The Southern Nights Series Read online

  The only person missing is my mom, who should be here any minute. She flew in from Hong Kong last night, so I imagine the jet lag is slowing her down.

  The low hum of chatter in the bright, airy restaurant and the joyful energy at the table creates the perfect blend of momentary perfection. Kam is laughing and joking with his brothers. My father is sharing his newest culinary venture, while I sip on the most heavenly, blood-orange mimosa.

  “Doing okay, Lemon? You’re quiet,” Kam drawls as he slides his hand up the inside of my thigh under the table. The light contact makes me flinch. My muscles are seriously sore. We both acknowledge my response. A secretive little smile skirts across Kam’s lips.

  “I’m fine.” I suppress a smirk. “I’m just taking it all in.”

  “Having second thoughts about officially becoming an Ellis?”

  “Of course not.” I tap his stone bicep. “Laney Ellis has a great ring.” I steal a sip of my cocktail.

  “Yes, it does.” Kam steals a kiss on my cheek. The whole table becomes quiet. Kam and I quickly turn our attention to the audience in front of us. Everyone is smiling.

  “What?” Kam barks out a laugh, and the silence dissipates.

  “We’re just all so happy for you. For the two of you.” My father raises his champagne glass. I try not to blush, but I fail miserably.

  The maître d’ appears in the middle of the attention onslaught, saving me from prolonged focus. The man, dressed in a tan suit, whispers something in Kam’s ear. He looks toward the entrance and then smiles.

  “Laney, your mom is here.”

  I whip my head in the same direction as Kam’s gaze and see her walking through the restaurant. Tall and statuesque, dressed in an all-white jumper.

  “Thank you, we’re good.” I hear Kam relay to the maître d’ as I rise to my feet and stride excitedly in her direction. It’s been six months since I’ve seen her, and for some reason, out of the blue, all I want to do is hug her.

  “Hi, baby.” She embraces me as I all but run into her arms.

  “I’m glad you’re here.” I release her and look into the face that is so similar to mine. We have the same dark hair, blue eyes, and wide smile.

  “There isn’t any place I’d rather be.” She holds onto my upper arms lightly. “I watched you on TV this morning. That was quite the proposal.”

  “Kam loves a spectacle.” Our engagement was splashed all over the news more than the game. Only Kam could outshine a championship win.

  “I sort of think he loves you, too.” She scrunches her nose.

  “Yeah, maybe a little.” I laugh. “Let’s go sit. We were waiting for you to order.”

  “Great, I’m starving and in desperate need of caffeine.”

  “You’ve come to the right place.” I lead her by the hand to the table.

  Kam stands and greets my mom with a bear hug and a kiss. Even though they’ve only met a handful of times, it’s clear he’s fond of her. Kam is hard not to like, and the same goes for my mom. She may be a pit bull when it comes to business, but she’s a puppy dog when it comes to me. She says her pleasant hellos to everyone else at the table then takes a seat in the empty chair next to me.

  “Okay, let’s see it.” She holds out her manicured hand. Everything about my mother’s appearance screams refined and professional and put together.

  I place my palm in hers, and she inspects the massive square diamond on my finger, blinding everyone in the room.

  “Gorgeous.”

  “Riley and my mom helped me pick it out,” Kam offers.

  “Oh?” She smiles, but there’s a hint of sadness in her eyes. Why? “You three make a good team.”

  “We have our moments.” Kam’s mom places her hand affectionately on my father’s arm.

  “Laney is very lucky to have you.” Her expression displays happiness, but her eyes? There’s an emotion she’s hiding behind her eyes. I’m sure no one else notices but me. My mom has been physically absent from my life since before I started high school. She’s a career woman, and her goals and aspirations were just as large and challenging as my father’s. They both have monumental drive. That seems to be a theme with the people I love. Bigger than life. But in saying that, she’s still my mom. I know her. I can read her the same way she can read me.

  She’s always been there for me. No matter the time or what side of the world she was on, she always made me a priority. There were countless three a.m. phone calls, video chats over a gallon of ice cream, and vacations to the most beautiful parts of the world. Our relationship is unconventional, but so are the relationships I have with my father and my fiancé. Just because they aren’t cookie cutter doesn’t mean they are any less important. And I manage each of those just fine. I’m pretty independent, and my career is just as important to me as my mom’s is to her. Kam’s is to him. And my father’s is to him. I may not live in the spotlight, or travel all over creation, but I love what I do. Being an architect is my dream, and I’m living it the same way everyone else around me is.

  The waiter appears to take my mother’s drink order. Once she’s settled, the conversation niceties begin.

  We spend the morning catching up over decadent French toast, pancakes stacked a mile high, and fruit so fresh it tastes like it was just picked from the vine. Kam eats enough for three people. He’s changed so much over the last two years. He’s always been tall and athletic, but this new level of training has transformed him dramatically. His arms and chest are almost double the size, and his waist is leaner, more tapered than it was before. He is all male, all athlete, all super-star.

  And all mine.

  I admire the diamond sparkling like fire on my finger. It’s beautiful yes, and I love it, but I love the person who gave it to me more.

  “Have you two thought about a date yet?” My mother’s question cuts through my daydreaming.

  “Um, no.” I glance at Kam. “We have one big event to get through first before we start planning another one.” I can’t even imagine what the next few weeks are going to be like. Kam prepping for the championship game was intense enough. Preparing for the Super Bowl? I don’t even want to think about it until tomorrow. I have a feeling I’m going to be a football widow until the clock times out.

  “Well, not to overstep or be that pushy mother”—she rolls her eyes and does this little gesture with her head—“but I took the liberty of calling a friend of mine. She’s one of the most sought-after wedding planners in New York.” She adds quickly. “Anyway, she told me she has an opening June 6th. So, I booked her.”

  “June 6th of what year?” my father asks as I stare at my mom.

  “This year. I know it’s soon—”

  “It’s less than six months from now,” I point out.

  “I know. And you don’t have to commit to anything. But she sent me this picture of the Conservatory Gardens in Central Park.” She pulls out her phone and brings up a picture. “It just looks stunning.” She shows the aerial view of the extravagant gardens. They’re bursting with rows of white and purple flowery trees, French-style gardens, and the greenest grass you have ever laid eyes on.

  “Wow!” Kam takes her phone and inspects the image further. “This would be an awesome place for the wedding.”

  “And June would be the perfect time,” my mom hints.

  “I agree, June is perfect. But . . . this June?” I weigh the option. “There’s so much planning. I have a huge proposal coming up at work. And Kam? The Super Bowl?”

  “Sweetie.” My mother takes my hand. “I do not want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I just thought I would help lessen the load reaching out to a pro who is accustomed to working with celebrities.” She nods at Kam. “She would do most of the grunt work. You just have to pick out the details.”

  “That does sound less stressful,” Kam considers, handing my mother back her phone.

  I’m at a loss for words for a moment. “This June wouldn’t be too soon for you?” I ask Kam in a
ll seriousness.

  His baby blues burn with affection in the sunlight. “Lemon, I would go to city hall tomorrow if that’s what you wanted. I don’t care when it happens, or where it happens, just as long as it happens.”

  The table goes quiet for the second time this morning. My cheeks are going to blister from embarrassment if I’m kept under all this scrutiny.

  “Okay. June 6th, it is,” I cave, my heart pounding a mile a minute.

  “Excuse me.” An unfamiliar voice pulls my attention away from Kam. A young boy, no more than ten, is standing behind us, bouncing back and forth nervously with a pen and paper in his hand. “I’m sorry to bother you.” His words are shaky, not nervous but upset.

  “It’s okay, bud.” Kam turns and smiles. “Would you like an autograph?”

  “Yes, please.” The boy’s brown eyes water. “My dad was a huge fan. We watched your first game at Alabama and haven’t missed one since.”

  “Well, that’s awesome.” Kam takes the pen and paper. “What’s your name?”

  “Tommy. Tommy Miller.”

  “Well, Tommy Miller”—Kam scribbles his name on the small white paper—“where’s your dad? I’d like to meet him, too.”

  A tear drops from the child’s eyes. “He’s not here. He went to heaven a few months ago.”

  Kam pauses. We all do. “I’m very sorry to hear that.” Kam clears his throat.

  “I’m one of your biggest fans. I’m gonna watch all your games. For my dad.”

  Kam turns his entire body toward the brown-haired boy.

  “I appreciate that. I’m gonna play my heart out for you. And your dad.” Then Kam does something that breaks my heart. He hugs him. Engulfs him in his arms and gives him a fierce squeeze. Kam can’t see it, but I can. I can see the brief solace on the boy’s face as his hero connects with him on a human level.

  This, ladies and gentlemen, is exactly the reason why I have zero doubts about becoming Mrs. Kamdyn Ellis.

  Laney

  THE DAY’S FESTIVITIES aren’t through yet.

  After an eventful brunch, Kam and I had about five minutes of downtime before we had to shower and change for a celebration gala the team is hosting in New York City.

  I will be the first to admit my fiancé cleans up well. At heart, Kam is a down-home southern boy. He loves his broken-in denim jeans and casual T-shirts. But he has no issue adapting to the part of dapper gentleman draped in an Armani suit. He wears many hats, and owns each and every one of them the same way he owns the football field.

  Currently, Kam is owning the room. He’s the man of the hour. Sophomore year in the NFL and he’s leading his team to the big game. The excitement is palpable. Throw our high-profile engagement in the mix, and it’s a full-on electric storm. For me, anyway. Social media has been buzzing since last night. Every media outlet has played and replayed the proposal repeatedly. While driving through Times Square, the ticker congratulated the team on their win and Kam on our engagement as the Jumbotron simultaneously broadcasted a bigger-than-life still of Kam on one knee and me a delightful shade of red.

  My life is surreal sometimes.

  Like right now, for instance. I’m surrounded by models and actresses and reality stars fawning over my hand and the diamond you can probably see from Mars. All the wives and girlfriends of the players who have become part of my extended family.

  “It is gorgeous.” Chris, a six-foot-tall, statuesque model gushes. The brunette with the most beautiful, buttery-olive skin you’ve ever laid eyes on nearly yanks my arm off.

  The rock on her finger is just as impressive. She’s engaged to Martell Lewis, or Telly as we all know him, one of the top ten running backs in the league. I know most of the players’ significant others. We’ve been thrown together in a mishmash of public events and dinner parties the last two years. “And I can’t believe you have a date set already! You and Kam have been engaged for twenty-four hours!” Mia chimes in. She’s a reality star who won that around-the-world challenge. She met her husband, Robert, the team’s center, when he guest-starred on the show. Apparently, it was history after that. They eloped six weeks after she won and have been going strong ever since.

  “That wasn’t planned. My mom pulled a string, and Kam hopped on board.” I reach for my drink on the bar. The girls have been crowding me since the moment I walked into the room.

  “At least football season will be over.” Chris huffs, sipping on her champagne.

  “Hey, you were the one who wanted to get married on a leap year,” I remind her.

  “I know, but who knew they were going to go to the freaking Super Bowl. The tone of my wedding seriously depends on the outcome of that game.”

  “It will be fine.” Mia waves her off. “No matter what, everyone will be blitzed. It will either be from joyous celebration or drowning their sorrows. Drunk at a wedding sounds like a win-win to me.”

  “Dear Lord, please let it be from joyous celebration,” Chris prays.

  “If I know Kam, it will be. Nothing is going to stop him from getting that win. He’s like a bull seeing red.”

  “Awww, and then you guys will have the perfect happily ever after,” Mia pokes fun. “The Super Bowl MVP and his bride.”

  “You are lucky I love you, ‘cause I sorta want to throw my drink in your face.” I laugh.

  “Save it for later. The managers will totally have a cow if there’s a bitch fight at the bar.” We all giggle in great spirits. “Could you imagine?”

  “I can see the headlines now.” Chris snorts. “Girls’ fight night at celebration gala. Which NFL hottie hits the hardest?”

  “Definitely me,” I claim the title.

  “Laugh it up now, ladies.” Monique, an ex-lingerie model and wife of the quarterback Kam replaced, tosses in her two cents. She hasn’t said much all night. Usually she’s a social butterfly, but she’s just been hovering by the bar, sipping her martini, a long, silk champagne gown draped over her lean body. “Everything is all wonderful in the beginning.” Her French accent drips with disdain. “You have kids, a beautiful home, the American dream, so you say. Then you find out it’s all a ruse. A scam, because your wonderful husband has been cheating on you the whole time. You are the fool, and everyone knew it but you.” She drains the vodka from her glass. “Demand a pre-nup.” She bumps into Mia then me before she struts off, clearly pissed and clearly drunk. We all stare at her bare back as she walks right past her husband without a second glance and out of the lavish ballroom.

  A dampening silence blankets our little group. Even though none of us will admit it, what Monique said is true. Being a professional athlete and being faithful is a rare occurrence. We’ve all heard stories or seen it firsthand. I look over at Kam laughing and talking, living in the moment. His stock just went up twenty thousand points. Women throw themselves at him on a daily basis despite our very public relationship. Groupies don’t care if you’re married, engaged, or have a girlfriend, and a lot of times, neither do the players. My only comfort is knowing cheating isn’t Kam’s style. It never has been, but it doesn’t mean temptation isn’t ever present. It’s front and center in this world. And I’m not naïve enough to pretend it doesn’t exist. Or that he isn’t confronted. I just have to trust in him. Trust in us, and hope we don’t end up like my parents. Or his.

  Kam

  I SIT AT the kitchen counter watching the sun rise over the Hudson River. I have an early flight to Tennessee to prepare for this weekend’s game. I’ve been putting in overtime at the gym and with my offensive coach to hone my concentration and stay in the zone. Miami is going to be a tough team to beat, but there are chinks in their armor that can work to my advantage. I just have to know when and how to use it against them during the game. Football is so much more than just brute strength and speed. For a quarterback, it’s a symphony of passes, fast footwork, lightning-quick hands, and split-second response times.

  I plan to be on-point ‘cause nothing is going to take this victory away from me.


  My attention settles on the signed Dan Marino football sitting proudly on the bookshelf next to the TV. It’s one of my prized possessions. Second to Laney, of course. He signed it at a benefit, and then auctioned it off for charity. I made sure I was the highest bidder. He joked afterwards that he would have signed a football for me for free. But I didn’t mind paying. Just being in the presence of one of my heroes was enough. Ironically, Miami is who we’re facing in the big game.

  My life can be pretty perfect at times. Like right now. I have my health, my girl, and the career I’ve always wanted.

  I reflect on all that I’ve been blessed with in the quiet moments that are short lived. I hear Laney’s heels against the hardwood floor before she appears in the kitchen. I’m already smiling.

  “Morning,” she chirps as she heads straight for the coffee maker.

  “Morning,” I respond, drinking in her lean form. She’s dressed in a white, button-up shirt with ruffles down the front, a skin-tight pencil skirt, and black high heels. She’s professionally hot in my opinion. And let’s be honest, my opinion is the only one that counts.

  “Whatcha doin’ here all alone?” Laney sidles up beside me with her coffee cup.

  “Nuthin’, just taking in the peace and quiet for a minute.” I slip my arm around her waist and suction cup a kiss to her neck.

  She giggles lightly, squirming in my arm.

  “Quit that. You’re gonna give me a hickey.”

  “And what’s wrong with that? I’m leaving in a few hours. I need to mark what’s mine.”

  “You have marked what’s yours. You proposed to me in front of half the free world. I’m locked down and everyone knows it.” She blows on her steaming coffee. The warm, fragrant smell wafting around us.

  That statement makes the caveman in me bang his chest. Laney is mine. She always has been, and she always will be.

  “Leaving is the worst part of my job.”

  “Every job has a downside. Even when you’re a pro football player.” I get very little sympathy from her. “You’ll only be gone a few days. I fly out on Friday,” she reminds me as she sips on her coffee. Her big blue eyes holding mine over the rim of the cup. “I’m sort of looking forward to getting away.”