Knot so Lucky: Epilogue

eleanor, march

“Are you ready for this?”

“I was born ready for you, Wild Card.”

Crew’s hand tangles in my hair as he leans down and kisses me gently before rubbing his nose over mine. It feels like the smile on my face has been permanent since he bailed me out of 49er prison camp. Probably because it has.

A soft breath flutters past my lips as I reach up and straighten his bow tie as he presses another kiss to my forehead.

“Hey,” he whispers as my eyes meet his again. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

I nod, running my palms over his black lapels, smoothing the fabric of his tux.

“Hmm,” he hums. “Then have I told you how perfect you are?”

I nod again, poofing out my ’60s vintage white Chanel cocktail dress.

He taps his chin, pretending to think some more, the shine of his Super Bowl ring creating a rainbow on my white dress.

“Then,” he draws out, pinching my chin between his fingers and lifting my face to his. “Have I told you I can’t live without you. That every fucking day is better than the one before because of you. Do you know I’d give it all up if you asked me to because there’s no better dream than being your husband…or…aka I love you.”

I stand in silence, drinking him in because I feel the exact same way.

Which is why eight months after we got married, we’re back where it all began—the Little White Chapel. Except this time, a hundred of our nearest and dearest are waiting inside to watch us walk down the aisle together and do it all over again.

It’s crazy. But so are we.

It’s unconventional. But we’ve never been ordinary.

Plus, who the fuck turns down a Super Bowl–winning quarterback in the middle of the field after the win?

Not this girl.

My palms press to his chest as I lift to my tiptoes, kissing him and speaking my words against his lips.

“I love you too, QB. You’ll forever be my number one.”

We’re lost in the kiss, letting it deepen as we hear, “Get a room,” followed by, “But not the one we had before.”

Crew chuckles against my lips as we pull away to see Nate and Millie coming from around the corner.

His arms are still around me as I smile at them.

“What’s going on?”

Millie holds up my bouquet. “You forgot this.”

I roll my eyes at myself, but as I take it, she starts chewing the inside of her cheek. Uh-oh.

“What else? Is my dad still mad he’s not walking me down the aisle? Because we’re doing that at the fancy wedding. I already told him that.”

Crew chuckles because it was his idea to have the fancy wedding, all because he’s still apologizing for once playing for the Raiders.

She shakes her head and looks at Nate, but he tries to hide his smile as he throws out, “God, you two look a whole lot better than you did the first time.”

Crew looks at me, just as skeptical as I am, before he runs a hand over his jaw.

“That’s not hard to do when the bar was set to drunk in the club. What the hell is going on?”

Millie motions to Nate like he should speak, and now my eyes are starting to widen.

“Okay,” she chuckles as Nate grabs her waist keeping her close. “So here’s the thing… He was really excited to surprise you, but I think it’s better to know going in.”

Millie looks at Nate for help. “Babe—”

“Who’s surprising…know what?” I rush out, smiling only because she’s smiling.

Nate laughs and shakes his head. “He even made sure the music was perfect…I mean, the guy’s a hopeless romantic. Take it from us.”

Millie swoons a bit as she adds, “It’s so cute,” before she looks at Nate, and he winks at her.

Crew and I look at each other, half laughing and fully terrified.

“They mean TJ.”

He nods, cradling my face.

“Wild Card, we got two choices: we can jump in that Cadillac that says ‘just married’ and peel outta here, letting those cans fly in the wind.”

“Or?” I interject, starting to laugh harder.

“Or we can just accept that we’re never getting rid of our wild and nutty family. And today wouldn’t be nearly as fun without them.”

I turn, taking his hand as we both face front, side by side, as Millie and Nate each take one of the double doors.

The same ones we burst through all those months ago, getting married on a drunk challenge, not knowing it would change our lives forever.

“We’re ready. Open the doors.”

Crew kisses my cheek, whispering, “How bad could it be?”

But as they swing open, a four-count beat drops before “YMCA” starts to blare, and our very own Elvis, clad in the white jumpsuit, also known as TJ, throws his hands in the air and yells, “Touchdown. Niners.”

If this is the beginning of the rest of our lives, I’d say we’re knocking it out of the fucking park.