Blissed (Misfit Brides #1) (37 page)

She stepped quicker. Not for herself.

For him.

“It’s coming back on your right, Nat. Gotta move.
Now
.”

She scuttled faster.

“Now this way,” he directed.

They zigzagged up the field, Natalie’s feet responding to CJ’s orders to move faster, turn this way, stop here, go there. Five yards from the end zone, he lifted her over a sprinkler head, and the crowd went nuts. Dad and Marilyn—both soaked—were already across the finish line. So were the younger couple. Vi and Gilbert were halfway back, hollering at each other. Claudia and Wade were right on CJ and Natalie’s heels. 

But other than the coffee spills, Natalie was barely damp, whereas the other women—Marilyn especially—were looking pretty drippy.

Just before they crossed the line, CJ took the coffeepot and refilled the mug, then he hefted Natalie up in his arms to cross into the end zone. He set her down, a giant grin on his face, everything about him completely sopping wet.

“Way to go, wife,” he said.

He handed the coffee mug and pot to Duke for measuring, and right there in the end zone, three feet from her father and Marilyn Elias, CJ kissed Natalie.

Full on the mouth. His fingers tangled in her hair, his body pressed against hers, their breathing in sync.

Perfectly.

As though everything about this moment was meant to be. 

CJ pulled back from the kiss, but he took Natalie’s hand, twined his fingers through hers, and squeezed.

Vi and Gilbert, the last couple, stumbled into the end zone.

Natalie’s lungs compressed.

Moment over.

It was time for her real life to begin.

“Gentlemen,” Elsie said, her voice booming over the speakers, “your wives will now be taken for fresh clothing. But you will be moving on to begin your next challenge. Duke, lead the men away.”

“See you soon,” CJ said, that happy, confident, easy smile still lighting the stadium.

Nat gripped his hand, pulled him down once more, and pressed a hard kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” she said one last time.

Because he wasn’t hers any more.

A
LOVE LETTER.

As soon as the men had arrived at the husbands-only hospitality tent behind the stands, still soaked, they had been instructed to sit down and write their wives a love letter.

Which they would read. Out loud. In front of thousands of people. And which the Husband Games organizers would then post on the Internet so the whole world could vote on the best love letter.

CJ’s clothes had dried in the two hours since he’d finished the Hubstacle Course, but he was sweating like he hadn’t sweated since he came to Bliss. He was about to take the stage to read his letter. In front of his in-laws. His family. Natalie and her family. God knew how many strangers.

And he didn’t know if he’d written the right letter.

Too late now. Elsie Sparks was announcing the husbands’ arrival up on the stage in the end zone. The Hubstacle Course had been cleared, and rows of chairs now lined the football field, adding another few thousand people to the spectators. The wives were already there, seated and waiting. Like the Hubstacle Course, the couples were going in three groups.

CJ followed the line of husbands—followed Arthur—to his spot behind Natalie.

She had a small pack of tissues in hand, and she twisted in her chair to look at him with upturned lips. But there was more wariness, more questions, more insecurity than anything else in the tilt of her chin and the crease between her eyes.

She’d known this was coming. She’d known all of this was coming. And she’d agreed to play with him anyway.

He smiled back with no more confidence than she seemed to have. This wasn’t anywhere near as fun as dancing in the sprinklers.

Elsie announced the challenge and explained to the crowd that they’d get to vote online for the winner after the last letter was read, then reached into her magic bag of names to pick the first husband.

CJ held his breath. He wanted to read his letter. He wanted to be done.

He was scared how the crowd would take it. How his in-laws would take it.

How Natalie would take it.

These were the Husband Games. And not just any Husband Games.

The Golden Anniversary Husband Games. The Games that Natalie had dedicated her life to since her mom died. Her mom’s last Games.

He didn’t want to be the person who put a stain on her mom’s last Games.

Elsie leaned into the microphone and read a name.

Not CJ.

In her chair in front of him, Natalie was breathing almost as fast as he was. He wondered if her heart was pounding as hard too. She’d been a champ the last twenty-four hours. A pain in the ass at times, but he liked that about her. She didn’t take any of his shit, but she wasn’t stingy with her appreciation either. Her smiles. Her casual touches.

Her own unique brand of sunshine.

The first husband—the youngest guy—led his wife to the microphone so he could look at her while he read his letter. CJ’s stomach rolled like it had tumbled out of a life raft.

Would Nat go up there with him?

Should she?

He barely heard the first guy’s letter. He saw the wife smile, heard her laugh, watched her wipe a couple of tears. Then the crowd cheered, and Elsie dipped back into her magic bag of names.

CJ’s gut tightened.

He could be up.

“Arthur Castellano,” Elsie announced.

Nat went rigid as a mountain, white-knuckling the life out of her tissue pack.

CJ cupped her neck, ran his thumb along her hairline. And when she relaxed back into his hand, he felt the same thrill as if he’d just hit the summit of Mount Everest.

Arthur said something to Marilyn, then approached center stage alone.

At the microphone, he cleared his throat. The sound bounced around the nearly silent stadium. “Dear Karen,” he began.

Natalie’s breathing audibly hitched.

Arthur straightened his paper. The microphone picked up the crinkling. “I wasn’t supposed to be here today,” he read. “Thirty-four years ago, you made me two promises. First, if I won you the Husband Games, you’d never ask me to play again. And second, that you’d let me go first.”

Nat trembled. CJ dropped to his knee and put an arm around her shoulder.

A little voice in his head whispered something about happiness.

“But here I am,” Arthur said, “playing in the Husband Games for you. And here I am, carrying on after you went first. I’ve spent a lot of time wishing I had one more hour, one more minute. What we’d say. What we’d do. But mostly, what I’d ask.”

A single tear rolled off Nat’s cheek and landed on her hand. CJ opened her pack of tissues and gave her one.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Arthur’s voice echoed in the speakers. “If I had another hour with you, I would ask for directions. You always knew where to turn for help, how to steer the girls, when to pack a flashlight and when to stay home and wait for the storms to pass. When I lost you, I lost my guide. I’m having to be my own guide now. I’m stumbling, but you left me two amazing young women who are so much more than the world gives them credit for.”

CJ squeezed Nat’s hand. She squeezed back. Warmth spread through his chest.

“If I had another hour with you,” Arthur continued, “I’d share you with them. When we got married, I wanted to go first so I wouldn’t have to suffer through the pain of losing you. After Lindsey was born, I wanted to go first so she wouldn’t have to live without her mother. When Natalie joined us, I knew I could never do what you do. I want you back for one more hour for our girls and our grandson. Because some days—no, most days, I’m not strong enough for them. Not by myself. I never was.”

Natalie shook her head, leaned into CJ.

“If I had another hour of your time, I’d ask for your secret,” Arthur said. “How you could pack so much strength, so much spirit, into one beautiful human body. I’m in pretty decent shape for an old guy, but next to you, I’m weak as a baby. I sometimes wonder if I’d been stronger, stronger in body, in mind, in soul, if I could’ve willed you to stay longer in this world with us.”

Arthur had lived. He’d lived a full life, with the woman he loved. He hadn’t hidden. He’d
lived
.

And look what he had to show for it. A beautiful family. A belief in the future. A life.

A right to stand in front of a stadium full of people and read a love letter to the woman who’d been his everything.

“I would still trade places with you if I could,” Arthur said. “But until I find the magic formula, I’ll be here, with our family, missing you and loving you. Forever.”

He stepped back. He handed his letter to Duke, then retreated to his spot behind Marilyn.

Marilyn…who was dabbing her eyes with a pristine handkerchief. She stood and hugged Arthur, then kissed him on the cheek.

“She’s been good for him,” Natalie said. Confusion and resignation and a bit of bewilderment creased her brow.

A slow rumble had begun in the crowd, and now half of them were on their feet. Yelling and cheering and wiping their own eyes.

Because as far as husbands went, Arthur Castellano was a hero.

“You gonna be okay?” CJ said to Natalie.

She visibly swallowed, wiped her nose, and then steel shone through her eyes. She nodded. Definitively.

CJ grinned. She smiled back at him, and he went lightheaded. “That’s my girl.”

Those pink lips of hers slanted farther upward, this time with a pretty pink blush adding to the mix.

She was beautiful.

Elsie pulled the next name out of her hat. Gilbert and Vi were up.

Then one of the younger couples from out of town. Three or four husbands down the line, CJ’s subconscious started connecting some themes, solidifying what he’d noticed in Arthur’s letter.

The good times. The bad times. The inside jokes. Their children.

Their lives.

Every one of these men—some not much older than CJ—had full, rounded, sometimes overwhelming, perfectly imperfect lives.

And they were embracing every moment.

CJ’s letter didn’t belong here.

Elsie pulled a name from her magic bag and stepped up to the microphone. “CJ Blue.”

Natalie cast a questioning glance at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

He swallowed hard, then pressed a kiss to her hair. “Back in a minute.”

He approached the microphone alone with eight thousand pairs of eyes staring at him. Ten cameras were lined up in front of the stage, several more situated around the stands to capture the crowd’s reactions.

And every last person in the place had gone more silent than ghost whispers. Wasn’t even a bird or a bug chirping.

He twisted the microphone stand, pulled it tall so he didn’t have to stoop. Looked out at the crowd, found his family several rows back in the chairs on the field, all of them in their
Second Chance Misfits
T-shirts. They waved their foam fingers at him.

“I had a letter written,” he said into the microphone, “but my family’s goat ate it.”

Basil cringed the Holy Wince of Embarrassment. Rosemary and Ginger wore matching horrified expressions. Margie groaned. But the rest of his family—sisters, brothers-in-law, nieces, his grandma—laughed. Bob and Fiona smiled. Confused, worried smiles, but they smiled.

Some of the crowd laughed too.

CJ smiled into the mic. “My sisters will tell you, the one thing a man does best is to mess things up. That’s pretty much where I’m most competitive as a husband. I screwed up a lot. There’s a lot I’d do better if I could.”

That much was true. And that much was in the letter in his back pocket. 

But now, the letter wasn’t what he needed to say. “I’m not here to win,” he said. “I’m here to remember the good times Serena and I had. I’m here to fulfill one last promise I made to her. It’s an honor to compete in the Golden Husband Games. But these gentlemen behind me, these are the men who are what husbands are made of. I barely had a year at it, but I thank you all for the letting me play in the Games anyway.”

He glanced back, at his fellow competitors, at Duke and Elsie, at Natalie.

Her head was tilted, eyes narrowed thoughtfully, as though he were a puzzle rather than the man who was sitting out an event in her mother’s last Games. Her hair brushed her shoulder. CJ wanted to kiss her there. Among other places.

God bless Kimmie for finding her klutzy side and giving him a few more days with Natalie.

He turned back to the mic. “Let’s hear it for the husbands.”

The crowd cheered for the men who had earned the honor, and CJ retreated to his spot.

“Just when I think I have you figured out,” Natalie said. The affection in her voice and the warmth in her smile made CJ feel as if he’d won something much bigger than a silly crown.

She rose and squeezed him in a hug. She still smelled like oranges, but not like Serena’s oranges.

Like her own, unique, special oranges.

He closed his eyes and hugged her tighter.

Wherever he went, whatever he did, he would remember her for the rest of his life.

Chapter Nineteen

CJ
AND NATALIE could’ve stayed in the hospitality tent and had lunch with the rest of the couples, but he wanted a minute alone with Natalie.

He had too few minutes left, and he wanted to pretend to fit in here just a little while longer. And there was a part of him that wanted to show her his letter. His real letter.

Because she would get it.

But as soon as they hit the parking lot, a cacophony of squawking burst out so loud, it actually made the sunlight flicker.

“CJ! Wait up!” one of the twelve most irritating voices in the world called.

“Hell,” he muttered.

“You’re up to about seven-fifty.” Nat flashed him a cheeky grin and bumped her hip against him. “Might want to quit while you’re ahead.”

The horde overtook them, and in the face of all his family, Natalie shrank back.

Natalie hiding—from his family, no less—was wrong.

“Great letter, Princess!”