Married in Vegas: In His Arms

Cam. Leaving a message might have been easier, but it was important for our conversation to be in person. I thought about my mother and the gleam in her eye as she mentioned her plans. I had some to make of my own.

First order of business was calling my boss. He wasn’t exactly happy, but I’d become news. Something I’d always known would happen if our names were tied together.

Apparently that news was part of the reason Jillian fled. Reporters including some of my colleagues had stalked my house. I’d gotten out before they’d descended.

It had been all quiet when I arrived minutes ago. Though I’d parked far from my door and came from around back. But the window outside had shown they’d given up looking for me.

My boss wanted an exclusive in exchange for keeping my job. As we spoke, my plans started to form shape. In the meantime, I had other articles to write. Which meant watching games on TV since my media outlet wasn’t big enough to send me to cover a lot of out of town games.

A few days later, I wasn’t sure what to expect as the hour approach me seeing him again. I’d caught sound bites from him as I watched TV.

One reporter had asked Cam how he was dealing with rejection and if it contributed to the team’s loss. Though he’d maintained a cordial smile, I’d seen the tightness around his eyes and jaw.

“You win some you lose some,” he said, before cutting the interview.

Was I too late?

I drove to my destination anxiousness damping my palms. Once I was there, I parked and set my plan into action. When the bus arrived to deliver the players back from their defeat, I stood on the sidewalk waiting. Though I wasn’t the only team supporter, I’d certainly made my mark.

With the parking lot lights ablaze, my reason for being there was evident.

The interior bus lights flashed on and I watched as a lone figure was urged to leave the bus early from his spot in the back.

My heart beat like a drum to an urgent climax of a spellbinding music.

What would he say? What would he do?

Words dried up in my throat like wilted flowers as he stood in the doorway. His eyes swept over the rose petal message I’d spelled out in dramatic fashion.

You don’t know what lies ahead until you are staring at your forever. The speech I’d so meticulously practiced a hundred times since composing it wasn’t what I said at all. Maybe the way to fight for him like mother said was in the simplest statements.

“I’m sorry.” The profoundness of its meaning was a mere whisper, but it held hope for everything in the future. I cleared my throat knowing he hadn’t heard me. “I’m sorry,” I said in a clearer louder voice.

He didn’t smile as I’d imagined. He took the final step down and slowly walked my way. A gathering storm brewed in my eyes, but I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. Not because of embarrassment, but for him. He wasn’t the bad guy in this situation. If he declined my offer, I wouldn’t push the issue with female tears that people might use to brand him an asshole if he ignored.

I folded my nervous hands behind my back and found my feet with my gaze. I couldn’t bare the stony look in his face.

“What do you say, Cam?” a bystander said from behind me.

This public gesture seemed foolish now. But he taken a chance in front of cameras to ask me. I could do no less.

It was his feet that stepped into my view first before his hand lifted my chin so our gazes could meet.

“Be mine?” he questioned.

He wasn’t asking me but saying the words I’d spelled out using hundreds of petals from the roses he’d sent me.

I nodded unwilling to speak as I gathered my emotions in a ball I was going to throw into a mental closet.

“I know I don’t deserve you. But I’m not going to let you go without a fight,” I said.

His brow arched.

“Is that so?”

His finger still rested lightly under my chin.

“Yes,” I whispered.

Where there was love between us, there was hope.

“There’s somewhere I want to take you,” he said.

It wasn’t an answer, but I let him take my hand and followed him to his car. I’d already taken pictures, and the press was there. Not that I’d invited them. Cameras were always around when players arrived for a game and left it in hopes of sound bites.

“Where are we going?” I dared to ask in the silence of his car.

“You’ll see.”

Chapter 12

We arrived in front of my mother’s house. It was dark and I assumed she was out with friends.

“Why are we here?”

He pointed at the front door.

“I’d come over that Halloween to offer you a ride. When I walked in and saw you in the Harley Quinn outfit, I thought I was dreaming. That tiny shirt and shorts had me harder than I’d ever been in my life and I knew then you would be mine one day.”