Playing the Polo Player

“As serious as taxes,” he grins.

“Of course, of course, of course!” I chant as I throw my arms around his shoulders. He stands as I move, scooping me up as I hug him. Our lips collide in passion as the crowd applauds and shouts their congratulations. I pull back with tears in my eyes, unable to stop nervous laughing as he puts the ring on my finger. Of course, it fits perfectly.

“So, did the day get better?” Rupert teases.

I playfully hit his chest and kiss him again. “I don’t think I’ll be convinced for a while that a horse didn’t kick me and this is all some blissful sort of coma dream.”

He laughs and squeezes me tightly. Here, in his arms, I know it’s where I’m meant to be.

Second Epilogue

Rupert

FOUR YEARS LATER

The crowd gathered at the polo field might be going crazy, but no one is as loud as me as I watch Luce make the final point of the game—winning for her team. It’s her very first game, as her horse Cloverfield has just completed training. We’ve been practicing at least three times a week, and she’s fantastic.

With our two-year-old, Suzette, on my shoulders, I jog over to the stables to meet her. I greet her with a big, sloppy kiss which makes Suzette giggle hysterically. I pass her off to her mom, who hugs her tightly. My heart is never as full as when I watch the two of them together. Suzy has her mom’s chocolate brown hair and my blue eyes, and has every ounce of love possible poured into her.

There’s a bit of chatter in the stables as everyone congratulates one another and shakes hands. Everyone who approaches, fawns over Suzy as well, and she just smiles away at them and waves. Her mother’s adorable blurting, and my flirtatiousness. She’s a deadly combination and makes it seem professional, the way she steals hearts.

“You did amazing,” I tell Luce for the thousandth time as we head toward the car.

“Thank you,” she beams. “I can’t believe I actually did that. I mean, I’ve played skirmishes and all but this was totally different.”

“It is,” I nod.

“Yay, Mama!” Suzette cheers, earning a laugh from us both.

We make record time back to the ranch, where I have lunch, cake, and champagne waiting on us. We’ve built a house of our own next to Sierra’s, as I purchased the land next to us to expand the ranch. Sierra and Tyler are on the porch waiting for us. Before I can even put the car in park, Luce has rolled down the window and yelled, “I won!”

The couple cheer for her as we climb out, and Suzy runs for Sierra and leaps into her arms. They say you can’t choose your family, but Sierra is more of an aunt and family to that little girl than anyone in our actual families. And I honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. Music is cut on and I get to finishing up lunch, warming the chicken in the oven and finishing the sides. Luce has taught me a thing or two in the kitchen, and it’s become my domain on the weekends.

There’s the distinct pop of a champagne bottle, followed by a squeal from Suzy at the sound. After a little chatter, there’s a mumbling and a bit of silence. Frowning to myself, wondering if the champagne had been a bad bottle or something, I head into the living room. I find Sierra leaned toward the bathroom door, Suzy on her hip, and no Luce. I don’t have to ask to know that Luce has rushed into the bathroom.

“Is it bad or something?” I ask Sierra.

She shrugs and extends a flute my way, “It tastes fine to me. Besides, Luce said she didn’t want any.”

I take a sip and sure enough, it’s bubbly, crisp, and refreshing as ever. I recommend we give Luce some space and head back over to the kitchen with everyone. She’s probably right not to drink champagne after a match, as I’m not sure how much water she had to rehydrate. “When do you guys leave again?” Sierra asks. “So that I can remember to call in more ranch hands.”

“Next Friday,” I tell her.

“Fwiday,” Suzy parrots and I nod at her with a smile.

“It isn’t fair that I’m not invited to Italy with you guys, all I’m saying,” Sierra mumbles, though there’s a smirk on her face.

“Tell Tyler to take you for your thirtieth,” I chuckle and continue to prep lunch.

“Tyler, when are we going to Italy?” she shouts.

“We just went yesterday,” he calls from the other room.

“That was Little Italy Pizzeria,” she snorts.

We are all laughing and continuing the small talk when Luce hurries into the room with wide eyes. My brow furrows and I stand straight, stepping away from the cutting board. “What’s wr—”