The Right Move (Windy City Series Book 2)
The Right Move: Epilogue

Four Years Later

Iverson lifts his sweaty little head from my shoulder. An imprint of my shirt creases his cheek as he stirs awake from his afternoon nap. His sister, Navy, has been up for over an hour, running around our family box at the United Center.

It doesn’t happen too often, but at least once a season, both Ryan and Zanders will play at home on the same day. I intended to spend the afternoon at home while they transformed the arena from a hockey rink into a basketball court, but the kids fell asleep after their uncle’s game, and I wouldn’t dare mess with nap time.

“How’s my favorite niece?” Zanders asks, barging into the room as he carries my favorite niece.

Taylor Shay Zanders is my only niece, the same way Navy is his.

“She’s a little fussy.” My little girl’s hair is a mess from her nap and her eyes are still swollen from crying. “Navy, we’ll go see Daddy before his game starts, I promise.”

My daddy’s girl hates when Ryan has to go to work. Even though he’s only in the locker room downstairs and spent the entire morning with her watching her uncle’s game, it’s never enough time for her.

It’s not enough time for him either.

Iverson is my laid-back guy and Navy is my emotional girl. They’re both just over two years old with completely defined yet opposite personalities.

Zanders hands his daughter, Taylor, off to me so he can console mine.

“Hi, Tay Tay.”

“Goldfish?” she asks, holding her hand out to Iverson.

He smiles and takes one from her palm.

“Baby Iverson sleeping?” she asks me.

“He was. He just woke up.”

Tay pets his head as if she were putting him back to sleep. The girl absolutely adores both her cousins.

She calls him baby Iverson, but he’s only the baby of the family by three months. Ryan and I began trying to conceive as soon as we moved into the house, but not so surprisingly, it didn’t work. When I did my first egg retrieval, we came away from the entire process with only one embryo, so I did a second egg retrieval later that year. Again, after all was said and done, we only got one more viable embryo.

We transferred one immediately, and unfortunately, our first attempt was unsuccessful.

I took it hard. Those months were rough. I felt like I was letting myself down, letting Ryan down, but he couldn’t have been more supportive. He didn’t even bat an eye as he began looking into foster and adoption options. We wanted nothing more than to provide a safe and loving home to someone who needed it. Even if we were simply a stop for them until their biological parents were back on their feet. We never saw a difference between biological or un-biological. We’d love them with everything we had.

The entire process was lengthy and time-consuming, and while we were going through it, I came to a point where I finally felt mentally prepared to attempt transferring our last embryo.

It worked. I was finally pregnant with our son, and I had never felt the kind of joy and excitement as I had that day when we were told we were going to be parents.

That is, until about two weeks later when we got the call that an expecting mother wanted to meet us. After endless conversations and exploring every option, making sure we were not only the best choice for the baby but for the mother as well, that same unexplainable love overwhelmed me once again.

Navy Renee came into the world just three months before her brother. The new Shay siblings might not be biological twins, but they’ll be raised as if they are. They’ll share the same class in school and hopefully the same friend group. And if we’re lucky, they’ll stay as close as Ryan and Stevie have.

Just then, as I’m thinking of my best friend, she and Rio join us in our box.

All season long, this is the Zanders and Shay family box at the United Center. It doesn’t matter which of Chicago’s teams is playing that night, it’s ours.

On her way in, Stevie pops a kiss on my daughter’s cheek who is now giggling and happy with her uncle as they dance around the room.

“One win down. One to go.” She takes a seat next to me. “Tay Tay, how many is Uncle Ry going to score tonight?”

She throws her hands up. “A hundred!”

“A hundred? So confident.”

Understatement of the year. Taylor Zanders is as confident as they come, but also sweet in equal measure.

“Yeah, and they win like Daddy win.”

“And like how Uncle Rio won,” Rio cuts in, taking the chair on the other side of me. “Don’t forget about me, Tay.”

“Uncle Rio didn’t score.”

The family’s newest comedian does a great job at keeping us all humble, and I can’t help but laugh at my friend’s expense. Rio rarely scores. He shares the blue line with Zanders. It’s not typical for a defenseman to be a high scorer on the team, but Taylor rarely reminds her dad he didn’t score after a game the way she does Rio.

“Yeah, well, Tay, Uncle Rio hasn’t scored in quite a while.”

He shoots me a look to remind me that he’s not only referring to the ice.

Rio DeLuca is one of my very best friends. Our bond has only gotten stronger since we met five years ago, but the guy is a giant kid. He’s twenty-seven years old, playing in his sixth year in the NHL, and his place is still the team’s party house.

He’s got a heart of gold and absolutely no idea how to talk to women.

Hopefully, someday, someone will see past the goofy exterior to realize his potential, but at the same time, he might need to grow up a bit for that to happen.

“How’s this year’s flight crew?” I ask.

He pops his shoulders. “They’re not you two.”

“Honey, we quit years ago. You’re going to have to move on.”

His green eyes concentrate on the court in front of him. “I refuse to accept that you both quit.”

“Three years ago,” I add for him.

“Yeah. Yeah.”

As much as I miss seeing the team on every road trip, I’m glad I left when I did. I flew for one more hockey season before calling it quits. Ryan and I were trying to get pregnant, and by the end of that year, we were. Plus, The Ryan Shay Foundation was taking off, and I was running the business end of it all.

By the time Navy and Iverson were here, my job was a full-time gig that needed my attention. I’ve loved every second of working for Ryan’s foundation. What used to be a summer camp, turned into a year-round passion project. We’ve been able to keep Chicago’s outdoor courts clean and usable, Ryan’s sneaker donation has tripled since we started, and what was once a provided lunch during the summer, has turned into daily after-school meals to those who need it.

Our latest project was one of my favorites. We’ve been able to upgrade thirty percent of Chicago’s public school libraries with new textbooks and tools for research. There’s also plenty of new books for those kids who want to read for fun, and we’re hoping to reach at least the next thirty percent this year.

Reading is something that Ryan and I first bonded over, and though we don’t have the same taste in books, being able to step into someone else’s shoes and read a story from their perspective, not only helps with learning and literacy, but also cultivates empathy.

The kids lose their shit when Ryan Shay, NBA champion and two-time league MVP shows up at their school or playground and shoots hoops, reads a book with them, or makes sure they have shoes to play in. He does a fantastic job not only being the face of The Ryan Shay Foundation, but also pouring everything he’s got into giving back to the city that loves him.

“Daily update, Vee.”

“Absolutely not.”

“This morning in the shower—”

“Make it stop.”

I cover the kids’ ears. “Your brother had me pressed so hard against the glass that I’m pretty sure there’s a permanent outline of my tits etched into our shower wall.”

“It’s been over four years, Ind. Put me out of my misery.”

“I made you a promise all those years ago,” I remind her. “I’m nothing if not loyal to my word.”

Stevie takes Iverson from me, and Tay makes herself even more comfortable in my lap, leaning her head back to lay on my chest.

“How’s my favorite guy?” Stevie asks her nephew.

“I’m good, sweetheart!” Zanders calls out from the back of the room.

Navy’s giggle fills my ears as she plays with her uncle.

“Is Uncle Zee full of himself?” Stevie pitches her voice higher, and Iverson loves it. He smiles at her, all deep-set dimples and baby teeth. “Yes, he is! He’s a cocky guy, isn’t he?”

She peppers her nephew’s cheeks with kisses, and I will never get over how much my kids love their family. How much I love my family. How lucky I’ve been to surround myself with my favorite people, for them to love on my kids the same way I love on theirs.

They’ve got grandparents that adore them, aunts and uncles that treat them as their own, and a dad who spends every free moment he has making sure they know how adored they are.

Taylor laughs in my lap at Stevie’s voice.

“Tay, is your mom talking like a baby?”

“Yeah!” She covers her mouth to contain her laughter. “Iverson is a baby, but I’m not a baby anymore.”

“You’re not?” Stevie sighs. “You’re still my baby, though.”

“No!” Taylor laughs. “I’m three.” She holds up her fingers to make sure her mom knows. “Iverson and Navy are two. They’re babies.”

“Ah. Then I guess you don’t want to go see Danny the Devil at halftime. I think only babies are into team mascots.”

She sits up on my lap, her curly hair bouncing with the movement. “No! I want to go!”

“Oh, okay. I must have been mistaken when you said you weren’t a baby.”

She brings her cheek to her shoulder, showing off that cheeky smile her dad passed on to her. “I’m your baby.”

Stevie laughs before leaning over and popping a kiss on her cheek. “Yes, you are.”

Stevie and Zanders were one and done. Taylor was born and that was it, their family was complete. Rosie was obsessed with her from the moment she was born. They’ve recently moved into a house close to ours and adopted a few more pups, but Taylor is the center of their universe, and it works perfectly for them. She’s witty, charming, sweet, and sharp as a whip. It’s a dangerous combination and they’re going to have their hands full as she gets older. She’s also stunning, with hazel eyes and curly hair. Zee will be getting a taste of his own medicine when she grows up and has everyone in school chasing after her.

“Navy girl!” I call out. “Do you want to go see your dad before his game starts?”

She hops her bare feet off Zanders, stopping their dance for now. “Yes!”

“Daddy?” Iverson quietly asks. “Basketball.” He makes the American Sign Language sign for basketball with his hands.

It’s his new favorite word to speak and sign. He doesn’t have quite all the syllables down, but knows it starts with the “B” sound and ends with ‘ball’, but he caught on to the sign no problem. Both my kids are learning ASL as they learn to speak English, and Ryan is essentially fluent now as well. I love that my dad gets to experience his grandkids learning new words in the same way we do.

“Yeah, baby, he’s playing basketball, and you can see Dom.”

“Dom!”

He loves that word too.

With Navy’s hand in one of mine and Iverson’s hand in my other, we slowly make our way down to the court with their tiny steps, using the back tunnels to navigate our way through the arena. We take our time because just about every staff member here knows the kids by name and Navy needs to show off her bedazzled Converse while Iverson wants to throw them the stuffed basketball toy he carries everywhere he goes.

They give high fives and waves until finally, we make it to the court while the Devils are still shooting around before formal warm-ups begin.

“Daddy!” Navy bounces on her toes as soon as she sees him.

There he is, number five, all sweaty and all mine. Ryan Shay has only gotten sexier with age. He’s still the same confident and controlled basketball player out there on the court and I love watching him run every game he plays. But when he’s at home, he’s relaxed and knows how to let loose. Moving into that house has been amazing for many reasons, but it’s truly given Ryan enough distance from the city to leave the basketball superstar with two MVP titles at the door.

When he’s home, he’s Dad and Husband, and he excels at both.

“Dad!” Iverson catches on, wearing a little Shay jersey of his own with Ryan’s number on it.

Ryan is entirely focused as he always is on the court, running through ball-handling drills with Leon off to the side. Leon sees us first and while continuing to dribble, he gains Ryan’s attention, nodding our way.

Ryan looks up and that serious and stoic expression melts, my favorite beaming smile stretching across his lips. He drops both balls he’s working with and jogs over to us without a second thought. I let go of the kids’ hands and they charge at him full speed, which granted, isn’t very fast on their little legs. Bending down, Ryan scoops them up, one in each arm, covering them both in kisses.

It’s my favorite view, the three of them together. I could sit and watch them all day and never tire of the sight. Ryan Shay as a dad is not only sweet and fun, but he’s also hot as hell while doing it. Have you ever seen a 6’3” basketball player laying shirtless with his newborns or in a nursery building cribs with his hands? Because I have and let me tell you, it’s a vision that will forever be branded into my memory.

“Are you checking me out, Shay?” Ryan asks, wearing a cocky little smirk and breaking me out of my daydream.

No use denying it. “Yes.”

His smile only grows as his eyes rake every inch of me, all the way from my head to the Converse of my feet. As much I still love my heels, I’ve got a couple of toddlers to chase after these days, so they only really see the light of day when Ryan and I attend events or have date nights.

“Daddy play basketball now?” Iverson cuts in, interrupting his dad’s blatant perusal over my body.

“Yeah, buddy, just like you.”

Iverson waves his stuffed basketball around. The kid is an athletic freak for a two-year-old, already making the majority of his shots on his mini hoop at home and learning new tricks on his tiny scooter every day. His balance and coordination are out of this world, and he’s in the ninety-ninth percentile for height in his age group. I have a sneaking suspicion that Ryan’s mini me will be following in his dad’s footsteps one day.

Dom comes up behind them, holding his arms out in front of him, creating a circle like a giant rim.

“Can you show me how to score, little man?”

Iverson throws his stuffed basketball through Dom’s open arms.

“Nice shot, my guy!” Ryan cheers with so much pride on his face.

Iverson claps for himself then points to Ryan’s teammate. “Dom! Dom!”

Ryan passes our son off to him, and Dom instantly takes him to the real hoop, helping him throw a ball though the net before putting his little hands around the rim to hang all while Dom holds on to his legs.

Navy takes the rare opportunity of being her dad’s only kid and wraps her arms around his neck, burying her head in his shoulder.

“Are you my needy girl today?” Ryan quietly asks her. “Did you learn this from your mama?”

Ryan’s teasing ocean eyes replace mine.

“Yeah.”

“I love you, Navy girl.”

I watch her little lips tilt slightly as she closes her eyes.

Navy is my sweet baby. Emotional but fierce. She loves hard and she’s a good friend to her brother. We love our girly dresses and bows, and our favorite morning activity is picking out our outfits together. But when it comes to bedtime, the only way she’ll fall asleep is if her dad reads her a story. It doesn’t matter if he’s on the other side of the country for work, she has to see Ryan’s face before falling asleep. I couldn’t count how many times he’s read to her over Facetime from the locker room before a game.

Ryan loves it. He cherishes the nights when he’s home and makes an even bigger effort when he’s on the road. I truly couldn’t ask for a better father to our kids.

Navy catches Ethan’s girls running by. She pops her head up from Ryan’s shoulder before wiggling her body to get to her feet, wanting to play with them. Our daughter can’t keep up with the older girls whatsoever, but they’re good about slowing down and making sure she’s included.

I replace Ethan chatting away with Ron Morgan, but Annie shoots me a wave as she watches over her girls and mine.

Ethan stuck true to his word and retired after the Devils got their first championship last season. They came close the year before, losing in game six of the finals, but Ethan held on for one more year and ended his career on a high note.

Ryan misses him on the court and in the locker room, but Ethan still comes to most of their home games and swings by our house on nights we host team dinner. Not to mention all the weekends our families spend together now that they moved out of the city and closer to us.

Ryan slides his palm around me, grazing my lower back until his fingertips rest on my ass. “Did the kids sleep for you?”

“Iverson a bit longer than Navy, but yes. She was crying and wanting you.”

“She sounds like her mama.”

I wrap my arms around his neck. “Yeah, yeah.”

Peacefully and fully content, he smiles. “I love days at the arena, having all of you here.”

“We wouldn’t be anywhere else. Give them hell tonight.”

“I’ll do my best.” He pops a kiss on my lips. “I love you, Blue. I better hear you screaming for me from the box upstairs.”

“You will. And later, you’ll hear me screaming for you in a different way.”

“Jesus, baby. I’m wearing basketball shorts. Can you try to not give me a hard-on on national television?”

“No guarantees.” I give him one final kiss. “I love you. Good luck out there.”

I turn around to gather our kids and head upstairs so we can watch him play the game he loves.

“Oh, and by the way,” I call out. “Tay told everyone you’re scoring a hundred points tonight, so it might be kind of embarrassing if you don’t follow through on that.”

He laughs. “I’ll do what I can.” His eyes rake over his jersey I’m wearing. “You look good wearing our last name, Mrs. Shay!”

Over my shoulder, I watch him check me out as he slowly walks backward to the court.

I take him in just the same. Glistening skin, freckled cheeks, and silicone wedding ring on his finger that he’s allowed to wear during games. “Right back at you, Five.”

He shoots me a playful wink before jogging back to the court and refocusing on his game.

The kids and I rejoin the rest of our family upstairs, and I can’t help but count my blessings. The man I love gave me the life I always dreamed of, but it’s so much more than I ever could’ve pictured for myself.

He swept my romantic heart right off her feet, and little did I know the day I moved into his apartment, that my new roommate would be the center of my happily ever after.