Page 177 of Studs Up
“What the fuck?” He was surprised, and it was only about to get worse or better, depending on his perspective.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the news,” I said. He glowered as he sat back.
“The fucking Europeans are reporting on it. Of course, I’ve heard.” When Nolan finally let me have access to the internet, I was shocked to find the news had spread like wildfire.
“What do you want?”
“Well,” Nolan sat back in the chair. “We’re getting married.” He flashed his hand with the matching platinum ring. Coach paled.
“Shit,” he sighed. “Guess you two are rooming together permanently, then.”
“Probably should put us at the end of the hotels from now on,” Nolan quipped, and I groaned with a dramatic eye roll. But the idea of not having to be quite so quiet was appealing. I’m not saying we’re going to go all out and have amazing scream worthy sex while on national duty. But if someone heard something sexual, it wouldn’t be a shocking revelation.
“Fuck,” he hissed.
“Anyway,” I said. “We feel since this is all your fault,” I gestured between Nolan and me. “That you should be the one to marry us.”
“You have to be fucking kidding me,” he said with his mouth hanging open like he had lost the ability to close it.
“Nope.” We said together. Nolan reached for my hand and laced our fingers. Being able to do that in public now was amazing. Not having to fear and live with anxiety was so freeing that I felt like I had been floating through life the last two weeks with only Nolan keeping me tethered.
“Dear god, what have I done?”
“Not gonna pull that parent trap shit again, are ya?” Nolan asked with the biggest shit-eating grin.
“Get the fuck out of my office.”
Nolan
“Can I take your name?” He asked.
“What?” I was deep into a book and didn’t know he had woken up. He had been so quiet. Our wedding was in three days, and almost everything was done. Less than twenty people had been invited. A caterer was going to set up a table of appetizers and drinks, and Ma had turned up yesterday with a fucking uhaul. I finally learned the truth about the candles.
It turns out she had been planning this wedding for years. All the bees, the wax, the candles were for us.
Holden spent the afternoon and evening with her, setting up all the candles and hanging the chandeliers from the overhang on our porch. It was an outdoor wedding in the snow. When they lit the candles as a test run, Holden cried. It was beautiful. The lights danced in the dusk and encircled the spot we’d picked to get married. When it finally happened, it would be perfect.
The effort Ma was going into to make Holden feel loved, and a part of our family had been a dedication years in the making. If asked, no, I didn’t shed any fucking tears watching the man I loved bond with my mother in that way. Not a single fucking one.
Except I did, and I scared the shit out of Holden because he didn’t think I was capable. So when he asked the question, I shouldn’t have been too surprised. But I was.
“Can I take your name?” he repeated.
“Why?” We hadn’t talked about it. I assumed he would keep his name for professional reasons, at least. And if he had asked me, I would have hyphenated my name.
“The Monroes aren’t my family.” He shifted, and his eyes were earnest and begging. “You are.”
“Sweetheart,” I said. “You can do whatever the fuck you want.”
He smiled and snuggled closer.
“Good,” he sighed.
I pictured it. His name, Holden Reed. Then I pictured it on the field.
“My name is gonna look so good on the back of a Rover jersey.”
“Oh my god,” he groaned and buried his face into my chest. I grinned, picturing him with the last name Reed walking onto his home field. It made my cock hard and my heart swell.
