Page 67 of The Baby-whisperer and the Brute
For her part, Angelina went back to wearing her frumpy old lady clothes and to pulling her hair back into that severe bun-thing. It annoyed the shit out of me, but I disciplined myself to channel even that irritation into my prep and training, doing my best to save every scrap of emotion for the ring.
Even when she got a call that her mom had been taken to the hospital, I obeyed her wishes, kept my distance, and let her go alone though everything in me wanted to be with her and comfort and support her during what had to be a difficult time.
All in all, I thought I’d done a pretty good job of turning things around, of mastering my longing for her. Until the night of her birthday.
The last thing I needed was a distraction—the title match was only four days away, and it was actually my last night at home before leaving for New York where the fight would take place at the Barclays Center.
But I just couldn’t let the occasion pass without doing something special for her.
No one else would, and besides, she deserved it. She deserved every good thing anyone could give her or do for her. She’d changed the girls’ lives, changedmylife—even if she didn’t want to be a permanent part of it.
This morning I’d made sure Skyla and Claire made cards for her and gave her flowers and sent them all off to spend the day visiting art museums, which I knew Angelina loved. When they got home, I took over, encouraging her to take a bath and relax while I gave the girls their dinner and put them to bed.
Once they’d dropped off to sleep, I searched for Angelina. She was in the kitchen rummaging through the refrigerator.
“Hey,” I said from the entry to the room.
She whirled around. “Hi. Did you... need something? Are you hungry? I was just about to heat up some leftovers if you want me to fix you something too.”
“Actually, I was hoping we could talk.”
“Sully...” Her tone was a warning.
I cut her off before she could go further and turn me down. “About the girls... since I’m taking them back to their mom tomorrow. I want to be able to, like, give her a full update on how they’re doing, what all they learned this summer and stuff.”
Angelina dried her hands on a kitchen towel, barely meeting my eyes. “Of course. Where? The living room?”
“I was thinking we could sit outside. It’s a nice night. I’ve been cooped up in the house all day.”
“What if one of the girls gets up and needs something?”
I pulled a baby monitor from my pocket and waggled it. “Got it covered.”
“Okay, fine,” she agreed.
My stomach twisted with nerves. This was the moment of truth. For days I’d been making private phone calls setting it up so she wouldn’t suspect anything. The final preparations had been made after dark. Hopefully everything was ready.
“Hold on—I have to send a text real quick,” I said.
I took out my phone and brought up the thread of communication with the party planner who’d helped me, tapping in the message she’d been waiting for.
-Coming out now.
Then I nodded to Angelina and went to the back door, opening it for her. As soon as she stepped onto the dark terrace, the event coordinator did her thing. The lights went on, revealing my surprise.
Toward the back of the yard, past the pool and overlooking the ocean, sat a newly delivered gazebo. It was the wooden kind, octagon-shaped and strung with fairy lights all around.
In the center of it a cloth-draped table had been set with dinnerware for two, wine glasses, flowers, and candles. A waiter from a local catering service stood off to the side holding a covered platter, ready to serve Angelina.
She stared at the scene in front of her, lifting both hands to cover her mouth and nose, then she turned to me wide-eyed.
“What is this?”
I shrugged. “I thought we could eat while we talked. You did ask if I was hungry.”
With a hand on her lower back, I urged her to walk with me down the terrace steps and across the yard. Angelina stayed quiet and looked like she was sleep-walking—she might have been in shock.
When we reached the table, I pulled her chair out for her then took the one opposite her, opening the wine bottle and pouring some into each of our glasses. Then I lifted mine and tipped it toward her, smiling even though it felt like my heart was tearing in half.
