He reached forward and squeezed my shoulder. “I can’t blame you. But let’s just hope Flint doesn’t feel the same way. This isn’t your fight anymore.”
I kissed the top of Eliza’s head and rested a hand on her stomach. It was going to kill me, but Slate was right. I would have to watch this one from outside the ring.
It was Flint’s turn to fight.
BLAKELY PAGE WAS BORN THREE months after that horrible day in Vegas. She was the bright light during a dark time for all of us. With a head full of Till’s straight, black hair and my deep-blue eyes, she was beautiful—there was no disputing that. She had a tiny freckle-sized birthmark on the top of her hand that Till quickly fell in love with. He was such a great dad. He always had been though.
“The Silencer” Till Page lost his title belt after a rematch with Rick Matthews only a few months later. However, as the defending champion, the contract read a little differently that night. With a guaranteed eight figures in his pocket, “The Poor Kid Fighting For A Better Life” Till Page smiled with genuine excitement as The Brick Wall’s glove was lifted into the air. It didn’t matter one bit that he’d lost his final fight as a professional boxer. Till was the absolute winner as he walked out of that ring.
The day Till received his cochlear implant was extremely bittersweet. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room as he heard Blakely cry for the very first time. Unfortunately, not everyone was there to witness it firsthand.
Flint and Quarry never truly came back from Vegas. Sure, they both returned home with us when Flint was well enough to travel, but my boys weren’t on that flight.
They lived under our roof, but after that the smiles were never as wide nor were the laughs as loud. The apartment became entirely too quiet. I understood why Flint had changed so drastically, but even my sweet, foul-mouthed Quarry withdrew. We tried too hard to make everything go back to how it used to be, but ultimately, we were forced to let go and make the best of the present.
The first thing Till did after he lost his title was write two enormous checks. Slate was more than happy to sell him fifty percent ownership of On The Ropes. Even though the funds were transferred electronically, Slate made a huge production about Till coming up to the gym late one night to deliver the check personally. It was all a ploy though. When Till walked through the door, Slate surprised him with his name painted in the coveted blank on the wall. Till was, in fact, On The Ropes’ first world champion, and he had been on every possible news and sports network you could imagine, but nothing validated his success more than seeing his name on that wall.
The second check Till wrote was to the old construction company where he used to work. We spent over a week sketching our dream house. As soon as we were finished, Till rushed it down to the architecture firm to have formal plans drawn up. It wasn’t anything huge, but it was a mansion for us. I was banned from visiting the build site. I knew he was hiding something, but Till gave me a classic one-sided grin every time I brought it up, so I let it slide. Finally, the day we were presented with our keys, he let me in on his little secret.
“Close your eyes, Doodle!”
“I’m carrying a baby, Till!”
“Well, then, give me my baby.” He pulled Blakely from my arms.
She went more than willingly and squealed as he tickled her stomach.
The entire house was empty since we hadn’t moved in yet, but when we entered the large master suite, there were pale-pink curtains drawn over one of the windows.
“I didn’t take you for a pink kind of guy.”
“You know, when we bought this land, I wasn’t completely sold on it. But one look at the view outside of that window and I decided that I never wanted to live anywhere else. Seriously, check it out.” He tilted his head.
I narrowed my eyes at him as I moved toward the window. He held my stare, but a massive smile threatened to split his face.
After one last look over my shoulder, I pushed the curtains back.
I gasped as my hand flew to my mouth and tears made my vision swim.
The other side of that window wasn’t outside at all. It led into a small room laid out exactly like our old abandoned apartment. There were cushions against the wall for a couch, our filing cabinet pantry, and the easel he had built for me years earlier. Till had made a few additions of his own too. There was a table covered by sketchpads, and various art supplies and paints lined a shelf. A picture from our wedding hung on one wall while black-and-white photos of Blakely, Flint, and Quarry covered the other.
“Till,” I whispered, unable to drag my eyes away.
With Blakely in one arm, he wrapped the other around my waist. I swayed back to lean against his chest.
“I know how you feel about doors, so I had them add one in the closet.”
I turned to look up into those hazel eyes and said, “I think I’d rather use the window.”
He smiled and placed a gentle kiss on my lips.