Because of the timeline, of course.
There are plenty of pictures of the three of us for the private album.
There’s another big round of photos in the cocktail dress Cora surprises me with for the reception, and then we party.
The reception is beautiful. It’s casual, a buffet catered by a couple of our favorite restaurants in Camden and basictables and folding chairs that were borrowed from the Jugs’ supplies. Lots of pretty lights, lots of ribbons, but nothing too fancy or expensive. It’s not even a full bar, just beer and wine plus champagne for the toast, but we’re in the middle of the season and most of the attendees are Blaise’s teammates and their plus ones. I know the boys smuggled in just enough whiskey for them to each get a shot in a sappy-sweet team huddle they do, but otherwise, it’s a chill night.
I cry through half of it. It’s overwhelming.
And I dance with my father for three whole songs. All we do is sway around, and after the first song, everyone else comes out on the floor with their dates, giving Dad and me more privacy by creating a wall of bodies, but I’m just not ready to let him go yet.
I know I’ll have to soon. There will be no miracles here. That’s just how life goes. But he was here with me tonight.
Dad and the nurse who traveled with him leave before the sun goes down. It’s not long after that when Blaise’s grandma leaves with Donovan so we can have a honeymoon night. I’m nervous since we didn’t plan it already and this might be a bad night for Donovan, what with how weird the day was, but Blaise reminds me that she’s a nurse and sickle cell runs in his family. She’ll know what to do, and everything she might need and all the emergency contacts are packed in his bag.
It’s odd trying to figure out the right time to leave one’s own wedding, but then Cora and Merrick get into some stupid squabble about her sitting with Wes Foster — who’s seriously just her friend, and Merrick has never asked for anything exclusive — and Cora tells me we should leave before she brings some damn drama into my special day.
I don’t need any more encouragement than that.
We ride off in a limo that has HAPPY BIRTHDAY painted on the back window, which has me cracking up the wholedrive. There’s a privacy shade which we take advantage of, making out heavily, and I’m barely able to keep Blaise out of my panties. We’re so caught up in each other that we don’t notice until we’re navigating through a neighborhood that the driver’s gone the wrong way.
I make sure I’m as presentable as possible while Blaise lowers the screen. “Hey, man. Sorry about this, but you’re going the wrong way. Lemme give you our address.”
“This is the address Bradley gave me,” the driver tells him, pulling into the driveway of a quaint two-story house with a decent yard, a realtor’s sign with a JUST SOLD! placard on it, and a giant bow on the front door.
“MauriceBradley?” Blaise asks. “My GM?”
The driver shrugs. “Here, these are for you.”
He hands us a set of keys before getting out to open the door for me.
“What the hell is happening?” Blaise mutters as he runs up to the front door and tests the key in it.
It works.
A million ideas pop into my head, but none of them seem real. I look around the outside of the house as I walk up, but it’s too dark to see much. It’s nothing gigantic, but it’s got a two-car garage and a nice, big driveway, a porch with a swing on it, and both the downstairs and upstairs have lovely bay windows. We’re in one of the nicer areas of Wilmington, a compact enough city that we’re probably only three or four more miles from the stadium than where our apartment is, but I can see the silhouette of the hospital close by, too.
I walk up the front steps and start to walk inside, only for Blaise to belt out, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!”
I jump back, scared that some little terror is lurking inside, but then Blaise sweeps me off my feet. “This is thehusband shit I gotta do,” he says very seriously, so I wrap my arms around his neck and let him carry me across the threshold.
And on into the house, past the narrow beige stairs and down the narrow white hallway into the minimalist gray kitchen. I catch sight of a small living room and dining room, dimly lit and sparsely furnished with basic furniture. Everything about it screams realtor-furnished so boring people can imagine what it would look like with their boring furniture, but it’s furnished.
Blaise carries me all the way to the kitchen counter before setting my butt down on it. There’s an envelope addressed to the bride and groom, and Blaise pulls a card out from it. He opens it before I get a good look at it, but the shimmery champagne and silver is clearly the front of a card congratulating us on our wedding.
“Dear Tilly and Blaise,”Blaise reads aloud for me.“Surprise! This isn’t—damn, it’s all cursive. I can’t read this shit.”
I snicker and take the card, recognizing Joss’s florid handwriting. “Surprise! This isn’t just your honeymoon getaway. It’s your new home. On and off the field, we’ve always had each other’s backs—because that’s what a team does.”
“Is that true?” Blaise asks, cracking a joke, but his hands are shaking.
I give him a little kick. “Stop with that.We wanted to make sure you had the space, comfort, and stability you deserve, so we all came together to make this happen as a wedding and early Christmas gift.Oh, gosh. Oh, gosh.” I clear my throat before I can continue.“This house isn’t anything fancy, but it’s enough, and it’s close to thestadium and Donovan’s doctor, and it’s yours, filled with love from all of us. May it bring you joy, laughter, and countless happy memories. No matter what, you’ll always have your team behind you. Welcome home. With love, your teammates, friends, and family.Oh, Blaise. We can’t accept this, can we?”
Blaise thinks on it a moment, seriously considering it. He looks around, as do I. Now that I know exactly what’s happened, I’m seeing it differently.
I’m seeing a breakfast nook with a table sturdy enough to hook a seat to for Donovan, so we don’t have to fight with a kitchen chair. I’m seeing a porch outside where Blaise and I can relax after a long day when the weather is nice. I’m seeing a fridge we can stick Donovan’s art to when he gets a little bigger. I’m seeing a dining room that, I know me, I will take over with sewing supplies.
We have a nice, big driveway. I could use the garage as a workspace, and then when I need ventilation, I wouldn’t need to leave, just open the door.
