We run the same drill forty-seven times. That may be an exaggeration, but it doesn’t feel like one.
We need to be perfect on Sunday, according to Coach. The game doesn’t matter in terms of playoff berth, but every play still matters. We’re fighters here in Tampa, and we’re not going to throw in the towel just because the outcome doesn’t have an effect on playoffs.
I’m exhausted by the time we’re excused at one, and I eat a quick lunch at home, take a long shower, and get ready for tonight.
We’re meeting at the manor an hour before sunset so we can take photos both before and after. The photographer that Tatum hired is one she’s already put on her short list of favorite vendors, and I can’t wait to see how they capture this day.
It’s a day a decade in the making. One I never thought would happen for me. Yet here we are, and I’m fucking ready.
Cole arrives a little before four o’clock, and I leave him in my family room so I can finish getting ready.
He’s already dressed in his tux, and I’m not quite sure how Tatum worked her magic to get him a properly sized tux when I just asked him to be my best man a few nights ago, but that’s her. She gets things done. It might take three drinks and a bunch of chaos, but she gets it done.
It’s one of my favorite things about her, along with the smell of her hair and the taste of her cunt. That one taste that left me wanting more. An appetizer for what’s to come. It was fucking perfection.
And tonight, that cunt will be mine.
Fuck.
It’s hard to believe that I’m about to get everything I ever wanted, and I feel better after our conversation last night. I didn’t want to go into a marriage that was based on a fluke. I didn’t want to get everything I wanted because of someone else’s strange request.
And when she said she loves me too, that she chooses me…well, that was everything I needed to hear.
I find Cole sitting on my couch watching SportsCenter once I emerge dressed and ready to go.
“Looking good, bro,” he says.
“Thanks.”
“You sure about this?”
“Yes,” I say. “Never been more sure about anything in my life.”
“That’s the exact sort of enthusiasm I was looking for,” he says.
“You ready to go?”
He nods, and we head down to his car. He drives us to the manor, and Ms. Winston greets me at the door.
“Good evening, Mr. Bradley,” she says, opening it wider to let me in. I wasn’t sure she’d be here, but I suppose it’sbetter for her to greet me than my future bride since we’re not supposed to see each other before the ceremony.
“Ms. Winston,” I say, and I give her a short hug as I enter.
“Why did you two rush this wedding?” she asks.
I glance at Cole, and then I give her the most honest answer I can. “Well, we have a wedding scheduled for mid-January, so we were trying to abide by your terms.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Would you have married her without those terms?”
I nod solemnly. I didn’t think it would happen, and maybe the stars aligned and I got lucky. But hell yes, I would have. In a heartbeat.
“Okay, then,” she says. She holds up her hands, her palms facing me. “Treat her well, and I bless you with many happy years of marriage.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, feeling surprisingly choked up at her words.
“You may go out to the gardens, where the photographer is waiting for you,” she says, holding a hand up toward the windows.
Cole and I head in that direction, and we pose for the photos, doing whatever the photographer asks. I wonder if Tatum is up in the bridal suite looking down at me. I wonder what she’s thinking. What she’s feeling.
