Play Along (Windy City Series Book 4)
Chapter 38

I’m in a complete daze leaving Reese’s office. My vision is fuzzy and zoned out, focused on nothing in particular when I close the door behind me.

What the hell just happened?

How did that all happen?

Well, I guess I know the answer to that, so the real question I’m asking myself is how did I get so lucky?

“Kenny.”

The voice snaps me back to reality, my focus zeroing in on a frantic Isaiah as he jogs towards me.

Speaking of lucky.

How lucky am I that I get to call him mine?

Isaiah is wearing his baseball pants—only his baseball pants. His perfectly disheveled hair looking like his hands haven’t stopped running through it all morning.

He’s got that manila envelope, holding it up when he stops in front of me, heaving chest and desperate, pleading eyes. “Look,” he begins. “I know I gave you a choice. I wanted you to make your own decision, but I’ve got to be honest here, I don’t totally love this one.”

My face softens into a smile.

How was there ever a day that I wasn’t completely and utterly gone for this guy?

There are a lot of things I learned in our time together, but the biggest lesson my husband taught me is what it feels like to be loved for the first time in my life.

I’ll never be able to thank him enough for being unwavering in his feelings for me, but I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure he feels as safe and secure with me as he’s made me feel with him.

“Maybe let’s hold off on this part,” he continues. “I don’t know that we necessarily need to file these right this second—”

“Isaiah,” I cut him off with amusement. “Did you not look at them?”

There’s a heavy pause as his throat works a swallow. “I couldn’t do it, Ken.”

My sweet, sensitive husband. Words I never thought I’d use to describe him, but Isaiah’s soft edges are one of my favorite things about him. He only allows certain people to see that side of him, and I’m not only one of those lucky people he chose to trust, but I’m also the one he chose to love.

Staff members busy the halls, getting from one place to another while the two of us stay locked in a standstill in front of Reese’s office. We’re on full display for anyone to see us, and Isaiah is holding our divorce papers in his hand.

“Come with me,” I tell him, taking his hand and pulling him behind.

Outside of the clubhouse, we slip into the same restroom where we first met.

“Open them,” I urge.

He shakes his head. “Don’t make me do that here of all places.”

“Isaiah,” I chuckle. “Trust me. Open the envelope.”

Confusion is clear as day on his handsome face, looking at me like I’m attempting to torture the man in the place where we’ve had so many of our big moments.

We met in here. We exchanged rings in here. We’ve argued and made up in here.

I get to tell him I love him in here.

Leaning back on the sink, he carefully lifts the metal prongs, opens the flap, and pulls out the stack of papers.

His eyes trail down the first page before flipping to the second, looking for whatever it is I’m so adamant about him seeing. I don’t rush him. I allow him the time he needs to take it all in. But soon enough, the obvious defeat takes over as he reads the papers he had drafted for us.

That is, until he flips to the final page, where our signatures should be.

Isaiah didn’t sign them when he dropped them off at my apartment, as if he couldn’t bring himself to do it unless he had to—unless I signed them first.

His eyes go soft as they bounce over the words, following the path of the pen I used to ink each letter on the signature line.

“Kennedy.”

“I do.”

I chuckle a bit at those two words that got us here in the first place.

“Really?”

“So much, Isaiah.”

He finally takes his eyes off the page to look at me.

“I love you,” I tell him, using the same words he found written on the signature line of our divorce papers. “It may have taken me a bit longer to allow myself to open my eyes and see it, but there’s no doubt in my mind that I love you. Every part of you. The parts you show everyone and the parts you show only me.”

His eyes trail over my face, his lips parted without words to say. So clearly stuck in a state of disbelief.

So I repeat myself. “I love you, Isaiah.”

That mischievous smile is back. “One more time for me, Kenny. Don’t think I quite caught that.”

Taking the papers from his hand, I set them on the sink behind him, getting them out of the way so I can move to stand between his legs, hands slipping around his neck, needing to touch him.

“I love you.”

He bends his arm back behind his neck to cover my hand with his own. Then he circles the ring I’ve never once taken off since he gave it to me. “God, after all this time, that feels unreal to hear you say.”

His words come out like a breath of relief, as if he can finally tell me how he feels, knowing I’ll say it right back.

His forehead falls to mine. “I love you, Kenny.”

Do what feels good.

This right here, this feels good.

It feels right.

All this time, I wanted to practice, plan, and schedule how it’d happen. I wanted to be perfectly ready for love when the time came.

But falling in love with Isaiah wasn’t a big, planned event. It was buying toothbrushes and providing food when I was too busy to eat. It was his mother’s ring and eating dinner together in a booth at Chili’s.

It was his patience and unwavering commitment to show me my importance in his life.

How lucky am I that I get to love and be loved so effortlessly?

My thumbs dust over his cheekbones as I begin the other speech I rehearsed this weekend.

“I have spent my entire life looking for validation, seeking attention, hoping for just a bit of acknowledgment that I exist, and you . . .” I shake my head. “You waltzed into my life and never left me alone.”

He huffs a dry laugh.

“Thank you.”

His fingers draw languid circles on my lower back, urging me to continue.

“I never had to beg for your attention, and I’m not sure you’ll ever fully understand how safe that became for me, knowing you were giving it to me willingly. I never had to ask you to see me, to understand me, and I’m sorry that I haven’t allowed you to be able to say the same. But I promise you, Isaiah, now that my eyes have been opened, I can’t keep them off you.”

His smile blooms, this devastating grin that lights up the whole room.

That’s him, though. He’s all good. Contagiously bright.

Bright enough to shine light on my untouched, undiscovered corners. The parts of me that no one else took the time to look for. He gave me the confidence and the security to come alive with him, to never once have to question his sincerity.

It’s not lost on me how rare he is.

“I um . . .” I clear my throat. “I feel like I don’t deserve to be as happy as you make me.”

He exhales a sympathetic breath of a laugh. “Oh, Kennedy.”

“I just feel really lucky.”

“It’s not luck, baby. The good things in your life are there because of you. You are good and smart and capable and so fucking deserving, Kenny. Yes, I’ve known all that for years, but I think for the first time ever, you’re finally seeing it for yourself.”

He leans in and kisses me, softly pressing his lips to mine. So unhurried, so patient, as if we have all the time in the world.

And we do. Only he doesn’t know that yet.

“When do you leave?” he whispers against my lips. “How much time do we have?”

I run my hands down his torso. “I’m not.”

“Kennedy—”

“You said I had a choice. And I choose to stay. I choose you, and I will continue to choose you every day after this one. There. Done. I made a choice, and it was the easiest decision I’ve ever made.”

Hands cupping my cheeks, he holds me as if I could slip away. He looks at me as if I were his everything. “Kenny, you can’t.”

“Dr. Fredrick was fired this morning.”

Isaiah rears back at that.

“The entire team filed complaints this weekend on my behalf.”

He drops his head back, Adam’s apple exposed as he looks towards the ceiling. “I fucking love those guys.”

“And Reese just offered me his position.”

“Shut up.”

I quickly shake my head in disbelief, a beaming grin spreading on my lips.

“Shut the fuck up, Kennedy.”

“I didn’t say anything,” I laugh.

“Well, you better have said yes.”

“Of course I said yes. I went in there with this whole plan. I was going to quit, apply to some local colleges, and wait for one of the other pro teams in the city to have an opening. But now . . . now I don’t have to.”

He exhales in disbelief and I get to watch as every realization dawns on him.

“You’re staying here.”

“I am.”

“We get to work together. Travel together.”

“We do.”

“And you love me.”

“So much.”

That grin grows.

“But I swear, Isaiah, if you ever bring me divorce papers again, I’ll be real tempted to sign them with something other than an I love you.”

We both know that’s far from the truth. Even though this marriage was supposed to be temporary and I wanted to separate as soon as we woke up that morning in Vegas, I couldn’t imagine that idea now.

His smile turns sheepish. “Is staying married really what you want though? We can start from the beginning, rewrite our story. We can still be together without being married. I can call you my girlfriend if you’re not ready to be my wife.”

“Can’t I be both?”

“What?” he says with a laugh.

“I don’t want to rewrite anything. I want to date you while already loving you. I want to learn about you while already knowing you’re the one. I know we skipped a few relationship milestones, but there are no rules that say we can’t be married while we go back and check them off.”

“Yeah. I like that idea.” He drapes his arms over my shoulders. “There’s been a certain milestone on my mind lately. We’re married and you still don’t live with me.”

“That is a big one.”

His eyes go soft with a smile. “What do you say, wifey? Will you move in with me?”

There’s no question regarding where we should live between his place and mine. His has felt like home since the moment I first walked through the front door.

“Yes,” I agree. “I’d live, laugh, love to.”

Chuckling, he brings me flush to his chest, lips dusting my forehead when he speaks.

“Thanks for marrying me, baby.”

“It was the best mistake I ever made.”

The bathroom door swings open, instantly shifting our attention. Reese walks in, eyes cast down on her phone, heading straight for a stall.

We look at each other, wondering what the hell to do, before Isaiah clears his throat to get her attention. Apparently, it only took the man three years to learn to make his presence known when he’s busy hiding in the women’s restroom.

“Oh,” she startles, her attention bouncing between Isaiah and me. “I’m sorry. I’m clearly interrupting something.”

“We’ll go,” I suggest, pulling out of Isaiah’s hold, both of us headed for the door.

She’s halfway into a stall before she stops and turns, looking right back at us. “Sorry, but this is so strange, seeing someone else in here. I usually come down to this bathroom by the clubhouse for privacy. All these months of it being empty, I started considering it mine.”

Isaiah and I share a knowing look, stupidly mischievous smiles on our lips.

“By the way, Kennedy,” Reese continues. “I was going to come replace you. I requested a name change on your new office door. It should say Dr. Rhodes by the end of the week.”

“Dr. Kay,” Isaiah corrects. “It should say Dr. Kay. She did that all on her own, long before me or my last name came around.”

I squeeze his hand in mine. “Actually, Dr. Rhodes is perfect.”

Reese offers me a sweet smile, slipping into a stall.

We leave the bathroom before Isaiah asks, “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” I hold his attention. “Like you said, I don’t care what my name used to be. I only care what it is now.”