The Game of Love (26 page)

Anna must have noticed, as well, because she shooed the men out of the room, telling them to head home and save their wives from all-day kid duty. Chris received another hug and a kiss on the cheek as each man exited, wishing her luck putting up with their baby brother, leaving only their mother behind. She gave Brett a peck on the cheek, straightened his sheet.

“I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t really split open that thick head of yours. Now that I know you’re fine, I will leave you in Christina’s capable hands.” Skirting around the bed, she came to give Chris a hug.

The feeling was so maternal, something she’d lacked for so long, she held on for dear life, turning her face into the warm, comforting crook of Anna’s neck. She inhaled, savoring the smell of powder and something like sugar cookies. She loved Brett, and would have married him if he’d been an orphan. But a woman like Anna for a mother-in-law was a sweet bonus.

His mother stepped back and cupped Chris’s face between her hands. “Call me if you need me, or if something changes.” When she nodded, Anna gave her a kiss on the forehead, then another hug. Just before she pulled away, she whispered, “I’m so glad he found you.” Then, as quickly as she’d descended, she was gone.

“So, you’re still going to marry me, right? After that circus that claims to be my family stormed in here?”

“I love your family. What you
should
be asking me is if you’re sure I’m marrying you for you, or for your mother’s cooking.”

“Hmm, good point.” He blinked in slow motion, yawned.

She sat on the side of his bed and took his hand in hers once more. “Why were you at my place anyway?”

He sighed, his eyelids drooping with exhaustion. “Went over there yesterday to give you something, he was there. Told Katie about it today, she explained what bad news he was.”

“What were you gonna give me?”

“In the garage,” he slurred, and dropped off the face of the conscious world as sleep claimed him.

She watched him sleep, the even rise and fall of his chest, and never wanted to leave his side.

The next day, doctors gave the okay to release Brett. His tests showed no damage, he was lucid and able to walk by himself, and other than a headache if he sat up too fast, he was fine. Tired, still bruised, but fine.

Scott drove them home in his SUV, taking care to miss as many potholes as possible. But though he stayed quiet, she could see the strain on Brett’s face with every bump and turn. His winces had her praying for a quick trip, but each minute felt like a millennium.

They got him home and situated on the couch, and he put up a good show. But it was evident to all he was wilting like a flower, and they convinced him to take a much-needed nap in bed. With a brother flanking each side, a brother behind and Chris guiding them up the stairs, they wrangled a mumbling Brett into bed where he promptly cursed them and fell asleep.

After his brothers had gone home to their own families, she gave in to temptation and ran down to the garage. When she flicked on the light, her gift was impossible to miss.

Sitting in the middle of the space was a shiny new stringing machine. She choked back a sob as she went down the steps to inspect it further. It shone in the yellow overhead light, and she ran her fingertips over the heavy metal in awe.

Jewelry was pretty, but she rarely wore it. Earrings got caught in her hair, bracelets annoyed her. Flowers were sweet, but they died so quickly. He could have done something ridiculously expensive, some rare trinket, but it would have been impersonal.

He’d bought her a stringing machine. A nice one. Oh, God. He understood her.

Her fingers caught on an unexpected groove, and she ducked her head to look.

Against the dull metal of the machine’s base was a bright gold plate. She squinted to read the inscription, and as she did, the tears welled in her eyes.

“Love is nothing in tennis. But in life, it’s everything.” ~ Anonymous

I love you, Christina.

One year later

He watched as his wife stretched for a backhand volley, grimaced as she fought for balance and move back to the center of the net. The team member she was drilling couldn’t recover as quickly, and the play stopped. Chris turned around to grab a few balls from the hopper behind her, saw him and waved.

Shouting a few instructions to the girls on her court, she jogged to the fence. “Hey, handsome. You here for a lesson?”

“Nope, here to see how late you’ll be tonight. And to make sure you’re not pushing yourself too hard.”

She rolled back to her heels, rubbed a protective hand over her rounded belly. “We’re fine, worrywart. You know I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

“I know, but even the best of athletes trip or lose their balance.”

She shook her head. He was overprotective, he knew it. But she was the love of his life, and she was carrying the proof of their love, at least for another four months. Although they’d refused to share the gender with anyone until delivery day—which drove his mother insane—in a few short months, Jared and Katie’s little boy would have a perfect little girlfriend. The first Wallace woman in God knew how long. Probably since the Crusades.

“I’ll be fine, I’ll be careful, and I’ll be home in time for you to bring home…” She trailed off, and her eyes shifted to the left in an unfocused glaze.

He knew what was happening. She always got that glazed look in her eye when she was trying to identify what she was craving. Eventually she’d snap out of it and tell him what she—

“Olive Garden!”

And…she was back. He knew better than to question the cravings of a pregnant woman. “The usual?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Her tongue traced the seam of her lips, making him think of more than just soup, salad and breadsticks. “I have a craving for first-date fare.” And with that, she winked and jogged back—only slightly less graceful than usual—to the net to reorganize the drill.

He was a lucky, lucky man. He had a job that challenged him, a wife he not only loved, but desired, and a baby on the way.

The game of love had been good to him.

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