Awake At Dawn (Wildflower Series Book 2)

“EVERYONE WILL UNDERSTAND if you want to stay home,” I said as I walked behind Gemma in the mirror.

We stood in our bedroom as she tried to figure out what to wear to my playoff game tomorrow. Now that she was almost in her third trimester, the Knights jersey she usually wore while watching my games no longer fit over her bump, and she’d been frowning into the mirror for over a minute.

I wasn’t so concerned about the jersey as I was about everything else. I’d been worried enough about Gemma when she came to my Minnesota game; now she was much further along, I was head over heels in love with her and Baby, and I found it increasingly hard to let them out of my sight.

“Noah.” She sighed. “There is no way in hell that I’m going to miss the—oh my God.” She broke off with a groan of contentment as I cupped my hands under her bump and lifted, giving her relief from carrying the weight.

She smiled at me in the mirror as she leaned back against my chest, letting me support her in more ways than one.

“Stop trying to distract me,” she said, but her voice was a lot less strong now that my hands were on her. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

“I just worry about you, Em,” I said softly, kissing the top of her head. “It will be a lot of walking and big crowds and rowdiness, and what if⁠—”

“Everything is going to be fine.” She cut me off before I could work myself up with hypotheticals.

But no matter what she said, I couldn’t help the concerns from swirling. “I just wish I could be there with you.”

“I know, baby,” she laughed, and my insides flipped at the little term of endearment. “But that kinda defeats the whole purpose, right? We’re there to watch you on the field. And you’re going to do great.”

I smoothed my hands on the underside of her belly, still supporting its weight. But I remained quiet, thinking, worrying, and she sighed.

“Julian will be there,” she pointed out. “And Natalie and Chloe. And all your brothers. And all my sisters. Both of our parents, too. I think I’ll have plenty of people around me if I need anything.”

I scoffed. “Julian is going to be far too busy making sure the rest of your sisters are safe from the London boys.”

It was just another reason I wished I could be in the stands with them. I wanted to be there to watch the chaos that would undoubtedly be the collision of the Londons and the Briggs. I’d warned my brothers to keep their shit together or risk Julian’s wrath, but I doubted they’d heed my advice.

Gemma laughed. “I told Julian he had to behave.”

“When has that ever worked?”

“He listens to me more than he listens to most people,” she said. “I’d bet I’m second after Juniper.”

My lips twisted—a combination of irritation and amusement. “I’m not going to convince you, am I?”

“Not a chance,” she confirmed.

It was for the best. Because in the end, I selfishly wanted Gemma there. I wanted her to be with our family in the stands. I had this feeling that tomorrow was going to be one of the best days of my life, regardless of whether we won or lost. Just the fact that everyone was going to be there, together, watching in real time. I couldn’t describe the feeling it gave me, but fuck, it was a good one.

“Then come on.” Releasing her stomach, I grabbed Gemma’s hand instead, leading her to my walk-in closet. “Let’s find you something to wear. I need my girl wearing my number if she’s gonna be at my game.”

“I’ve been wearing your number for years,” she confessed with a shy smile.

“And I’ve wanted you to be my girl for years.” I kissed her temple, murmuring the next words across her skin. “Seems kinda perfect, huh?”

“Not kinda,” she whispered. “It is. It’s perfect, Noah.”

Absolutely perfect.

As I suspected, the playoff game was unbelievable in the best way.

Somehow, my brothers survived meeting Julian (and his sisters).

Gemma was well taken care of by all our siblings and looked so damn good with my name and number on her back.

And we won the game.

We didn’t win the ones after it, though, which meant that the London-Briggs takeover game had been my last one of the season. It was disappointing, to say the least, but I could hardly be mad about it. Our team played a hell of a season, and now I got to be here. At home with Gemma. And Baby.

“Is Baby girl ready for her bedtime story?”

Gemma turned on her side as I dove into bed next to her, grabbing a pillow and propping my head on it so I was face-to-stomach with her.

“Oof.” Gemma slid her hand over her belly, rubbing soothingly. “That was a big kick. I think that means she’s ready for the story.”

My heart leaped into my throat as I snuck my hand beneath Gemma’s pajama shirt—one of my old football tees—and waited to see if Baby would move again for me. “Did she really kick?”

“She always kicks when she hears Dad’s voice.”

I’d been getting used to that word—Dad. But whenever Gemma called me that, I fucking melted. I wanted to be a dad—I really did. But one of my favorite parts of that title was how it linked me to the other half, to Baby’s mom. To Gemma. That we were in this together. That we were a family.

Gemma’s fingers trailed down my arm, as far as she could reach from this position, and I knew what she was looking for. I lifted my arm so she could see my new tattoo, just above my elbow, where a pair of angel wings had been permanently etched into my skin. Just like she was permanently etched into my goddamn being.

I loved how much she loved it. How much she sought it out, trailing her fingertips over it.

So I let her do that while I brushed my lips over Gemma’s stomach, clearing my throat and whispering to our daughter.

“Tonight’s story is about the night I met your mom.”

Gemma’s breath hitched audibly as she stroked my damp hair, similar to how I’d threaded my fingers through her gingery locks in the shower just before this.

Taking care of Gemma in these last few weeks of her pregnancy was my favorite thing. She’d finally given in to it, letting me dote on her and pamper her and treat her like a fucking queen. My queen. I couldn’t carry the load for her, but I could carry her and love on her in every way I knew how.

Gemma didn’t complain much, but I could tell how uncomfortable she was. How ready she was for Baby to be born. She was restless. It likely had to do with not skating anymore, and thank fuck for that. She hadn’t been skating for the last two months, finally agreeing to hang up her skates until after the birth.

“I was a sophomore in college when your mom showed up at the house I lived in with your uncle Julian,” I said softly, letting the memories take me back to that moment. Goose bumps covered my skin as it replayed in my head. “She walked in the door, and I remember thinking she was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen in my entire life.”

Gemma’s fingers stilled in my hair, but I didn’t look at her. Not yet.

“But after Uncle Julian recovered from seeing Aunt Juniper walk in behind your mom, he gave me a look like he knew exactly what I was thinking. He didn’t want me to so much as talk to your mom. But even though he was my roommate, one of my best friends, and my team captain…I ignored him.”

A laugh rang through the air, and I glanced to see Gemma’s eyes shining as she looked down at me. I smiled at her, warmth filling my chest, before returning to my story.

“I stole your mom away as soon as I got the chance. Uncle Julian started arguing with Aunt Juniper because that was how they used to flirt with each other before they got their heads out of their asses⁠—”

“You told me I couldn’t swear during story time,” Gemma cut in, and I cleared my throat apologetically.

“Sorry. Anyway, Uncle Julian was…distracted. And that was when I swooped in because I just knew I had to talk to her. Even if she was my friend’s off-limits sister.”

“Maybe you wanted to talk to me because I was your friend’s off-limits sister.” Gemma continued tangling her fingers in my hair, playing with it in a way that was both soothing and a bit arousing. If she started tugging on it…fuck, I’d be all over her. “Maybe you just liked to cause trouble, Mr. London.”

“If I liked trouble that much, I would have kissed you that night, Em.” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t you dare downplay my attraction to you.”

She raised a brow. “So because you were attracted to me, you didn’t kiss me?”

“I didn’t kiss you because I liked you. A lot, angel. Come on, you know that.”

Gemma’s gaze remained steadily on me as she soaked in my words. Then, she wordlessly tipped her head to the side, resting it on the pile of pillows. She smiled a gentle smile.

She did know—that was what that face told me.

But Baby didn’t know, so I turned my focus back to my story.

“See, I wasn’t much of anyone at the time. Just a second-string quarterback from Minnesota who somehow got a scholarship to a Division I California college. But your mom didn’t seem to care. She smiled at me like I was…someone. And I knew. I knew then and there that I would never have a shot with her. Not like a real shot. She deserved things I didn’t think I could give her, and that’s why I didn’t even try to kiss her. But that didn’t stop me from soaking up every bit of her that I could that night. Even while your uncle Julian glared at me.”

“You’re overexaggerating,” Gemma said. “I’m sure Julian didn’t care that much that you were talking to me.”

“Baby, there is no doubt in my mind that it was clear as day on my face that I wanted to do much more than talk to you. Trust me, Julian did not like that I was making a pass at his sister right in front of him.”

“I do remember you being a bit of a flirt,” she giggled.

“I was trying really fucking hard to play it cool.”

She brushed my hair back from my face unnecessarily. “Considering I spent the next few years with a silly little crush on you, I’d say you succeeded.”

“A little crush, Em?”

A secretive smile indented her cheeks. “There’s a reason I liked watching football with my dad whenever I was home.”

“Always did like John Briggs.”

Her hand slid down to cup my face. “He likes you, too.”

Baby kicked, clearly reminding me that I hadn’t finished my story. Unfortunately, though, there wasn’t much more to say about that night. Gemma slipped away as the night wore on, sticking to Juniper’s side. And then, the following day, she was gone.

“Demanding little girl,” I chuckled, brushing my lips over Gemma’s stomach again. “She’s definitely a Briggs.”

“I don’t know…” Gemma cocked her head to the other side thoughtfully. “I think she’s more of a London-Briggs.”

My gaze flicked to Gemma’s in disbelief. I stared at her, trying to figure out if those were just words she said offhandedly. But when she spoke, she sounded…nervous.

“How would you…” She cleared her throat. “How would you feel about that?”

Christ, was she really asking that question? I felt…I felt unbelievable. Speechless. So damn happy. So damn lucky.

“How would I feel about that?” I repeated when I found my voice.

“Yeah,” Gemma murmured, and I had to sit up and face her. I needed to see her correctly, needed to take in every bit of this moment.

“I would feel…really, really good about that, Gemma. Fuck, I love you. And I love her. And I—I just⁠—”

She leaned forward, kissing me into silence. “I love you, too,” she whispered across my lips. “But are you sure?”

“Oh, yeah.” My lips stretched wide in a smile so big it nearly hurt. But it was the best kind of pain. “Oh, hell yeah.”

My mind started to turn, the gears whirring. Because as elated as I was for our daughter to have my last name, I really wanted her mom to have it, too. Fuck, I wanted that. But blurting out an unplanned proposal wasn’t the way to do it.

My and Gemma’s journey had been decidedly unplanned. Nothing about us was traditional. And while I knew Gemma wouldn’t care if I proposed to her while we sat in bed, telling bedtime stories to Baby, I wanted to be deliberate about this. I wanted her to know this wasn’t something offhanded. It was something I’d thought endlessly about.

I wanted her to know I’d never been more serious about wanting to marry her.

So I tucked my thoughts about making her into a London-Briggs or a London or even a Briggs with a Mrs. in front of it into the back of my mind, and I put Baby’s name in the front of my mind instead. Her name—the one we’d spent so long picking out—plus my name. And Gemma’s.

It was perfect.

“London-Briggs had a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“I think so,” Gemma said, struggling just as hard as me to contain her happiness. “But let’s ask her.”

“What do you think, sweetheart?” I placed both my hands on Gemma’s belly. “Do you want to be a London-Briggs?”

It took a few seconds, but then we got the confirmation we were looking for in the form of a kick.

And everything was right in the world.