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A burst of laughter erupts from all four of us.

Thalia crosses her arms and eyes Sierra, a teasing glint in her expression.

“So… Mrs. Hardy. Finally.”

Theo steps forward dramatically and bows slightly.

“Allow me to reintroduce myself, Sierra. Theo Smith, one of your husband’s dearest and most handsome friends.”

He takes her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

I groan.

“Don’t push it, Theo,” I warn, gently tugging Sierra toward me and wrapping an arm around her waist.

Thalia moves in and hugs Sierra tightly, rocking her a bit.

“I’m so happy you two figured everything out. God, you had us all in emotional purgatory.”

At the same time, Theo pulls me in for one of those bro-hugs, firm and solid, patting my back a few times.

“Congrats, man. Would’ve been nice to find out about your wedding before it actually happened.”

“Oh, fuck off. You were in Greece for what, nine months? We thought you moved there permanently,” I shoot, laughing as I hug him back.

The room is filled with warmth and familiarity—like everything’s finally real.

My wife’s in my arms, the truth is out… and for once, I’m not thinking ahead, or worrying about the next game.

FORTY-NINE

Sierra

It’s eight in the evening.

We’ve eaten, talked about the media circus exploding outside our building, and tried—unsuccessfully—to pretend it’s all normal.

Thalia had the idea of turning on a livestream from one of the gossip networks and yep—press from every corner of the world, sports and scandal alike, is currently camped out in front of our building.

Helicopters. Cameras. Reporters screaming into microphones.

The curtains are still drawn tight. The lights are dim. And the four of us? We’re barricaded inside like fugitives, sitting on the couch with a half-finished game of rummy between us and mugs of tea we’ve long forgotten to sip.

There’s something strangely cozy about it all.

We’re talking about marketing strategies for Theo’s businesses now.

It’s hilarious how I bumped into him before I even knew he was one of Nick’s friends. Small world. Or maybe faith just had a twisted sense of humor.

Thalia and Theo… well. It’s not a secret they spent the night together. Not even something they’re trying to hide.

They arrived together, their energy still tangled—like a current between them neither of them is bothering to control.

There’s no kissing, no touching. But the way they look at each other? It says something. Yet I can’t understand what.

Playful glances. Half-smiles. A lingering awareness that crackles in the space between them.

I noticed it the moment we stepped into the club last night—that subtle shift in the air when two people are drawn to each other.