Page 222 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
“I’ve been stuck with your beastly ass, night and day,” Aug complained.
The man had him there. Even he could concede it was no picnic training twenty-four seven. He reread the press release, finding it hard to believe sixty days were almost up.
“Her brothers’ schooling is paid for?” he asked.
“Briggs said he released the final payment yesterday.”
Raz stared at the page. “So that’s it?”
“You’re supposed to initial it, then give it to Briggs.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I don’t have a bloody pen on me. I’ll do it later,” he barked, folding the sheet into a tiny square and stuffing it into his pocket with the other items.
Would that be it?
He’d fight Silas.
There would be a winner and a loser.
And then what?
He’d promised Libby that after he’d won, they could go back to the way they were. But she’d done what she’d always been able to do. She’d looked through him with those amber eyes, looked right to his very core, and had seen the truth.
Would one win be enough?
He wanted to believe that it would, but when he pictured Libby’s face, he’d felt the truth—a truth he couldn’t quite acknowledge. All he knew how to do for Meredith was to fight and win. He couldn’t see a path forward that didn’t include fighting. He didn’t know anything different.
Train. Fight. Win. And do it for Mere.
Do it because she believed in him. Do it because she’d made him a champion. She’d been his greatest supporter. She devoted herself to him and started a charity in their name.
And he let her die.
He crossed his arms, his emotional armor in place. “Where are we going, Aug?”
The man didn’t answer.
“It’s the day before a fight. I have a ritual. You know that. I have fish and chips and then—”
“And then you and Meredith take a walk, and you buy her flowers from some vendor. I know your ritual. I know you’ve done it in cities across the globe. I know because I was there. I know because, for your last fight, you tried to do it by yourself, and that didn’t serve you well. We both know that.”
“That was because the last fight was in London and—” his voice gave out.
“And it was your hometown,” Aug interrupted. “And it was the exact place where you and Mere got fish and chips, and then you walked to the bench where you sat with her after your first date. I know, Erasmus.”
Raz pursed his lips. “It’s my ritual. It’s what I do.”
“Not this time, mate. We’re starting a new ritual.”
“Says who?” he barked, sounding more like the sullen fourteen-year-old Aug had reluctantly agreed to train.
“Says me, your bloody trainer!”
Raz shifted in his seat as a sickening sensation made his stomach flip-flop.
There it was. The fear and the doubt churning in his belly.
“No, Aug, I need to do it just like I did before. Like I did when I was racking up belts and titles and—”
