Page 74 of Last Slice of Pie

“Don’t make fun of me. I’m serious.” I pout.

Blue like an endless spring sky whips through me as he holds me under his adoring gaze.

“Lex, I’m not making fun of you. I want to support you in everything you do and watch you fly. I love that you want to continually express yourself through being creative and an individual. I appreciate that you are different from everyone else, because, well, everyone else is boring, and to me you are everything. I am never going to try to dull your spirit or take things away from you. I want to be the person who helps you shine. You and me, together—we’ve got this.”

“We’ve got this?” I ask, my nervous eyes imploring him to reassure me that, no matter what, we’ll always be okay.

His thumb runs across my cheek as he leans down to kiss the corner of my mouth. It’s so light and so soft, the tension in my body instantly eases, and with his next three little words, I let the past go and begin dreaming of tomorrow.

“Yeah, we do.”

Pie Dough

LEANING FORWARD AGAINST the back porch railing, I rest on my forearms while my hands dangle over the edge. In one hand, I have a plate with a half-eaten slice of coffee chess pie, and in the other, a fork. The air is cool tonight, and as the earthy smell of acres and acres of trees and grass fills my lungs, I’m flooded with memories of my childhood.

The best memories are the one-on-one football games James and I played out near the large oak tree until the sun set, the summer days the three of us spent sitting in the orange trees, racing each other to see who could eat the most, and then there are the fall nights I spent with Lexi, chasing fireflies and sleeping in the tree house where we shared our dreams.

I think about these memories often, and surprisingly the bad ones never surface; it’s always good ones that fill my mind. That’s how I know I’ve moved on and am finally in a better place mentally, a place in this world where just she and I exist.

Lexi and I have talked a lot about how things were for me growing up with Cole. She didn’t know how bad things were—I mean, how could she have? She was a kid too. I hate that the things he said and the stories I told her made her cry, but I don’t want to leave anything unsaid between us. I want her to know me, all of me, even the bad, and it’s through this I’ve learned something new. Lexi told me GiGi never really cared for him. It was because of me she said yes when he applied for the job. She told Lexi she loved me the moment she saw me.

She loved me.

Lexi loves me.

Those truths have fundamentally shifted me, because maybe I was one of them all along.

No one’s ever heard from Cole again, something I’ve often worried about since I signed with the Tarpons, but now, if I ever do, it’ll be okay. I have Lexi by my side and, well, my attorney is on speed dial.

It’s been three months since she and I drove out to her Oakwood home after that fateful day in February, and honestly it’s been three of the best months of my life. It took losing for me to finally realize there’s more to life than football and I can find happiness too. If we had won, I’m certain I wouldn’t have had this growth within myself, and after all these years, it was well past overdue. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll take the win every single time and I still feel like shit because of the loss, but being here with her has put things in perspective.

Sure, I’ve had to head back to Tampa here and there for things, but mostly we stay here and the world leaves us alone—no requests for interviews, no speculations about next season, and mostly, there’s been no more talk of the Jarvie jinx. I’d like to think me standing up for us at the press conference made a difference, but my guess is that we’ve officially been together long enough that we are no longer interesting. We’re old news.

Meanwhile, Lexi’s business is thriving. A few other food magazines have reached out, she’s getting a spotlight in the All About the South Food Network issue this summer, and retailers have been inquiring like crazy asking to wholesale purchase stock for their stores.

I’m proud of her, so proud of her—even when she’s being feisty and still refusing to let me help pay for things. Yes, she gave in when it came to the barn, but she made me promise once business picked up, I’d back off on the next thing. I will, because I get her, and I love her even more because of it.

In front of me, the sky has shifted, its colors darkening. Although the sky is nice in Tampa, here it’s something else. It feels marvelous, endless, just like my love for her.

Behind me, the sliding glass door opens, and the warm air from inside rushes out and briefly blankets me. Lexi steps up next to me hugging Rafiki, our newest addition from the animal shelter in town. When we saw the tiny gray and white furball, we knew he was the one for us, and as for the name, it just seemed right.

“Oh, do you see them?” Lexi asks with wonder in her voice.

“Yep, I was waiting for them.”

The light from hundreds of fireflies flickers throughout the tall grass around our old oak tree. They’ve just recently returned in the last couple of days, and this was always my favorite part of spring. Through summer and into fall, they’re here every night like clockwork.

“How’s Meg doing?” I ask. They’ve been on the phone talking for the last hour.

“Oh, you know, she’s Meg. Everything looks like rainbows, glass is always half full, and she makes lemonade out of lemons.”

I chuckle, because as I’ve gotten to know her over the last couple of months, I’ve realized that description fits her to a T.

“How’s the pie?” she asks, suspiciously eyeing the half-eaten piece.

“Do you even need to ask?” I raise one eyebrow at her.

“Well, yeah—you only ate part of it.” Her face scrunches in confusion as she looks from the plate to me.