Page 233 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
“And what was that one about?”
“I wanted us to be happy and spend time together.”
How did he get such an amazing kid?
Emotion welled in his chest.
“Mibby says the universe is mysterious,” Sebastian continued. “And you never know exactly what will happen, but it will always be what’s supposed to happen.” The boy scratched his head. “She talks like that a lot, and I’m not sure what it means, but it makes me feel like everything will be okay.”
He patted his son’s shoulder. “She’s good at that.”
“Champ, we need to move,” Briggs called from the hall.
“I’ll carry the stool,” Sebastian chimed, the little helper.
Raz steadied himself. This was it. This was how it started. He opened the door as the murmur of pounding music drifted down the hall.
“You ready, boyo?” Aug asked, looking him over. “I see you’ve chosen a different color than usual.”
Sebastian lifted his chin. “I chose indigo, Aug.”
“Did you, lad?” the man said, and Raz could hear the hint of approval in his trainer’s reply.
Briggs came to his side as the music got louder. “Silas is already on the stage. He made weight. Your family and friends are in the crowd. They’re close to the stage. You’ll be able to see them when you get out there. Stick to the script. Give them a little snarl. You know the drill, champ.”
“Isshehere?” he asked, lowering his voice.
Briggs shook his head. “No, I thought that had ended. I took you leaving Rickety Rock with Aug to mean the partnership had run its course. I gave Aug the press release for you to sign.”
“I haven’t gotten to that,” he mumbled, his emotions on a bloody roller coaster.
He let out a heavy breath. Perhaps it was for the best. He could focus solely on bringing his A game and worry about making amends after the fight. But his thoughts weren’t on laying into Silas Scott or which combinations could knock the Snake into next week. His mind drifted to thoughts of two remarkable women and lightning striking twice two times.
“This is where we leave you, Raz,” Aug said as they approached the ramp leading to the stage.
Another person with a headset waved him forward. “They’re about to announce you, Mr. Cress,” she said as an event staffer escorted Briggs, Aug, and his son to their seats.
Alone, he closed his eyes and jogged in place. This is the moment he’d work himself up and become the beast, the roaring lion. He’d pound his chest and gnash his teeth, getting into character, but it felt wrong. He wasn’t the Lion anymore. He patted the items in his pocket, then reached inside and removed the stone and pocket watch—his past and his present. But what did the future hold?
The music stopped, and the announcer nodded to him.
“The British Beast, the London Lion, Erasmus Cress!”
The music blasted, and the vibrations thrummed through the floor. He jogged onto the stage. Light coming at him from every angle. He knew this song and dance, but this weigh-in was different. He shook off the ominous feeling.
Just go with it. You know what they want.
He unzipped his hoodie, allowing the cameras to capture his ripped, muscled torso. He stood, basking in the glow, allowing the media to consume him.
“How ya doing, Erasmus? How’s the eye?” Silas cooed, his Irish lilt syrupy sweet.
Raz ignored the man and focused on his friends and family, but his heart ached for the two people who weren’t there. The two women who’d made him a better man.
How many times does lightning have to strike twice?
“Step onto the scale, please,” the announcer instructed.
The refs and judges sat at a table, recording the information.
