I do as he asks, detaching the tape gently while eager to see what’s underneath. Cursive writing comes into view with a small lemon on a branch strategically placed off to the side.
“Oh, my God, Kam. A tattoo?”
“Yup,” he states proudly. “Do you like?”
The inscription reads “Better than I was. More than I am.”
I freakin’ disintegrate. “I love.” I pout.
“You love? Then what’s that face for?”
“Because I want a matching one. With a football, of course.”
Kam beams. “I’m sure we can arrange that.” He pulls me into his body and hugs me tightly. Our limbs tangled and skin warm.
This, right here, is the heart of everything. Of us. No spotlights, or reporters, or screaming fans. Just a simple southern boy and the sassy city girl he loves. The sassy city girl who loves him back. Who understands the myth, the man, the legend, and knows exactly who the true person is inside.
