Page 128 of Wicked Love

“We might actually beat Henley and Tru down the aisle, who knows?” I say, lifting my shoulder. “But yes. We’re getting married and you’ll wear a pretty pink dress.”

“Yay!” Becca says, pumping her fist in the air.

I lean in and kiss Poppy’s head and then we all hug each other.

I think maybe all I’ve gone through in my life, the pain, the feeling of rejection…all of it has been worth it to know how to appreciate this now. It’s why I’d marry her today if I could. Now that I know what it’s like to feel this complete, I want to bask in it forever and never let it go.

Poppy and I celebrate again when we get to our room, this time with the door locked. And then I text the guys before we fall asleep.

Poppy Keane said she’ll marry me.

“Watch this,” I tell Poppy, holding up my phone. Her eyes widen when it goes crazy with notifications.

Penn

WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT IS HAPPENING? WE ARE THE SINGLE DAD PLAYERS.

Rhodes

Holy shit, I am the happiest motherfucker who ever lived. And Penn, let’s not start, okay? We all know how you’ve hassled us over that name from the beginning. Get with the times, man. We are growing up.

Penn

Anyone who says get with the times has a foot in the grave.

Weston

LMAO. Ahhh, this is the best news. Sadie just came to see why I was yelling in the kitchen and I told her. She said she helped you pick out the ring with Elle and Tru. What the hell? If I weren’t so happy for you, I’d be offended.

Ask the professionals or ask you dumb asses, you do the math.

Rhodes

Whatever. I’ll have you know Elle is obsessed with what I picked out for her.

Henley

Bowie, this is the BEST! I am so fucking happy and proud of us right now. You’ll get there, Penn.

Penn

How many times do I have to say I DON’T WANT TO GET THERE. But I love you guys. Happy for you, Bow.

We laugh about Penn and I close my eyes, feeling happier than I can ever remember feeling.

CHAPTER FORTY

SWIFT KICK

POPPY

I tug Bowie’s oversized jersey over my head, the fabric comforting as it drapes over my fully popped belly. Once I crossed the seventh-month mark, baby boy fully took over my body. Bowie’s number—23—stretches across my midsection, but I don’t mind. I like my pregnant body. It probably helps that Bowie is obsessed with it too. I swear sometimes he sets up a little shrine there and worships. I am oiled up, lotioned up, and lovedup at all times.

I like the visible reminder that we’re connected. Me, Bowie, Becca, and our very own champ punter.

Speaking of, the little guy gives me a swift kick and I’m back in the bathroom one more time before I head to Elle’s to ride with the girls to the stadium.

Tru and I commiserate in the backseat. She’s about to pop. Due any day. In fact, Henley tried to talk her out of coming tonight, but she didn’t want to miss out. He was only appeased if Chelle, the wife of one of the defensive tackles who’s also a nurse, would be nearby. Fortunately, Chelle’s great and she happily agreed to hang out with us in a suite tonight.

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