Billionaire Flawed 2(109)

Truth be told. She was thinking of Anton.

Sitting on a red picnic mantle, she watched her baby crawl around. How she wished Anton was there to see their daughter’s growth. But he was not. He was dead. As least that was what she thought.

Not far off, Anton stood under a tree, trying to find the courage to approach his family. Papa, if you ever hear me, please help me be a father that I should be to my daughter.

Since the time Anton saw his father’s reflection during the fight with Java, he was convinced his father had long desired his forgiveness. As Anton allowed himself to forgive, a sense of relief followed him all the time. It was the power of forgiveness that had taught him healing.

A cold breeze hissed at him. Goosebumps stood up on his skin. Was it his father’s spirit who was helping him out?

“Alexis, don’t go that far,” Tasia told her daughter.

Oblivious to who was behind her, a hand grabbed Tasia’s shoulder. She recognized his smell and the texture of his palm. Don’t tell me his ghost is haunting me?

Every doubt was abolished when she heard him speak.

“Tasia?”

She could not get it wrong. His strong, but soft Russian accent was remarkable.

“Anton?” She excitedly turned.

Gems of precious tears began to roll down involuntarily from their eyes. They were both speechless – tamed with surprise and gladness that miracles really do happen. And a happy ending was possible.

“How did you find us?” She asked with thankfulness in her voice.

“I’d do everything to find you and our daughter.”

He shifted his gaze at Alexis while she was crawling around, exploring her skills. She got her golden brown hair from her father. Her eyes were Hazel, a little bit lighter than her mother’s eyes. But her skin tone was mixed. A little lighter than Tasia’s. And a little darker than Anton’s.

“She’s beautiful. She looks just like you, Tasia. Can I hold her?”

“Yes, of course. She’s your daughter, you know. Our child.” Tasia blushed.

Taking her up from the ground, she wiggled her hands as she played with her father’s nose and eyes. Her smile was priceless. Suddenly Anton felt that same sensation of love that his father must have felt when he had held Anton for the first time.

Watching, Tasia was crying. The tears of pain and sorrow were replaced with tears of joy and thanksgiving. Finally, they could now live in peace and harmony without worrying about tomorrow.

She stood up, and then approached them. As she did, Anton wrapped his arm around her while the other was holding Alexis – the chain that interlocked them together.



****

THE END





Sports Romance Collection





SPORTS Romance - More Than a Game

“Grades matter, they matter a lot. I worked harder than anyone else to get here, and I have the report cards to prove it. The lowest grade I had was an ‘A-‘, and that was because the teacher hated me. It’s a black spot on an otherwise spotless record. I don’t want another black spot. It would make all the effort I put into getting into this college moot.”

“What was your name, again?”

“You know me, Coach, I’m Christine. I’m in your athletics course on Monday, and Wednesday at 9 am. I noticed that my grades had dipped into the ‘B’ level and wanted to know what I could do to improve my grade. I need to get an ‘A’ in this course, or I may not be able to transfer to a graduate degree program.”

The coach rolled his eyes at me; I’d seen it happen before and was quite use to it at this point. His old leather chair was a bit worse for the wear, more duct tape than chair it would seem, and his hand grasped at what I could only assume was a playbook.

“Are you telling me to change your grade to an ‘A’ because you asked me to?”

“No, I want to know if there’s anything I can do to improve it. I have looked through your syllabus and have recorded my performance.”

I produced a notebook that I had kept through the entire course. I recorded my athletic improvements including my jogging speed, blood pressure, and several other factors that I felt would prove my point.

He took the book and flipped through the pages.

“Are you serious?”

I pushed my glasses from the tip of my nose.

“I assure you, I’m quite serious. I believe I’m showing major cardiovascular improvement in the class, but if my own improvement isn’t enough to sway your grading scale then I would like to know what may?”

He threw the notebook back on the desk; I felt he may be impressed by my research. He rolled his chair to a filing cabinet behind him and thumbed through the files for a minute.

“What’s your last name again?”