Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
She smiled gratefully at her dad before silently going back to her cake.
“Well? Did you kick him to the curb?” Nox asked, after a brief silence, licking some chocolate frosting off his fingers.
“Nope, still here,” Smith announced as he strode out onto the patio with a cocky gait. He’d showered, shaved, and was barefoot and wearing a fresh pair of jeans and his Archie and the Gang T-shirt.
He helped himself to some cake and sat down on one of the chairs, man-spreading obnoxiously in a pointed and unmistakable gesture of ownership.
He nodded at her father showing at least a token amount of respect.
“Happy birthday, James.”
Her father eyed him shrewdly, taking in the lack of shoes and the studied relaxation in his posture.
“I take it you two have worked things out then?”
“We have,” Smith nodded, not taking his eyes off of Kenny’s face. She had a hard time suppressing her happy smile and so stopped trying entirely and just beamed at him.
Her father’s eyes drifted to her face, saw her smile, and softened in affection.
“Ah fuck, so we’re never getting rid of you?” Nox asked without any real heat.
Smith shook his head.
“Never,” he affirmed, his eyes steady and voice assertive. “I’m here to stay.”
Epilogue
Day 985 and counting…
“I don’t know why you insisted on playing again tonight,” Kenna griped, as she dabbed at Smith’s bleeding lip with a gauze pad. “Ten goals conceded and now this. You could’ve lost a tooth.”
“The bigger mystery is why they keep letting him play,” Tina piped up from beside Kenna, and Smith angled his sister a wounded look.
“That’s downright mean,” he protested. “Why wouldn’t they let me play? All players are welcome, remember?”
“I know these guys are used to losing, but they always lose so much harder when you grace them with your skills every time you guys visit.”
“And I think at this point, Lindiwe is pretty much using your face as target practice,” Kenna groused, slanting a baleful glare at the teen’s back.
Smith grinned and sat down next to her, his hand loosely draped across one of her knees. This was his third retirement due to injury in four games. Not that he minded too much, because it meant he got to spend the remainder of the game with his wife.
They visited Riversend every two or three months for a weekend. They both looked forward to the trip and, despite their busy schedules, had never once postponed or canceled.
Kenna’s palm came to rest over the back of his hand and he turned it over to entwine his fingers with hers. She dropped her head on his shoulder and they watched as once again the Riversend Rovers—Spencer’s bright idea—were soundly trounced by the junior team.
Smith glanced down at his beautiful wife, and smiled when her free hand dropped to her abdomen absently. They had a secret which they had not yet divulged to their families. A secret that—for now—was theirs alone to enjoy.
His hands tightened around hers and she smiled contentedly.
A roar went up in the crowd and Smith lifted his head to see what the fuss was about.
Then chuckled.
Lukhanyo was at it again. The kid was irrepressible. He’d never quite matched the viral success of his first kiss cam upload of Smith and Kenna. But he kept trying. He apparently did not subscribe to the notion that lighting doesn’t strike twice in the same place.
Kenna lifted her head from Smith’s shoulder with a wry grin.
And as the very small crowd of tens chanted kiss kiss kiss, Smith lowered his head.
“Gotta give the crowd what they want,” he muttered.
“What a burden,” she giggled.
“I love you so fucking much, Kenna.”
“And I adore you, Smith.”
They kissed.