Chapter 30
A UTAH RAPTORS CHRISTMAS
Barry convinced me to go with him to a Christmas party hosted at one of his teammate’s house, despite me telling him many times that doing so would send the message that I was his girlfriend, which, need I remind him, I was not?
I didn’t need to remind him, he’d said. He was woefully aware. But girlfriend or not, he wanted me there anyway, and if not me, then he said he wanted his daughter there, and I wouldn’t rob his daughter of her first team party, would I?
Turns out, I would not.
When I agreed to attend, he’d kissed my head in a way that made me remind him again that I wasn’t his girlfriend as he walked out of his room smiling.
This is how I ended up wearing the red dress with bows that Kate picked for me and a pair of her shoes, a size bigger than my usual—the swelling feet came for me full force—as Barry and I waltzed up to the Nilson’s very large place of residence.
“Fancy,” I observed as we walked to the tall, modern front door.
Barry’s hand rested on the small of my back, and I held a plate of homemade turtle pretzels.
He’d never had this most rudimentary holiday treat composed of a pretzel, a melted Rolo, and a pecan, and I had to chide him for eating too many of them before getting to the party.
Barry rang the doorbell, then picked up a curled strand of hair from my shoulder again, running it through his fingertips.
“You look pretty in red,” he said for the fifth time.
“Thank you,” I whispered again. Usually I thought green was my color, or maybe a teal blue, but his insistence that he loved the red had me wishing I had more warm-toned clothes. To be fair, though, he loved me in the green dress, too.
Not because I wanted him to always look at me with starry eyes or anything. Not at all.
The door swinging open interrupted our eye contact, and we both turned to meet the very excited face of Trevor O’Neil.
“Hannah!” he shouted, and pulled me into an excited hug, careful not to smush the plate in my hand. “Merry Christmas. Glad you forgave us for demo-ing half of your house and exposing mold in the process.”
“I suppose I should thank you for that last part.”
O’Neil walked us into the house after giving Barry a hug, too. He was a good five inches shorter than Barry but wrapped his arms around Barry’s waist and picked him a few inches up off the ground, making me laugh and my nerves lessen immediately.
O’Neil pointed to the plate in my hands once the door was closed behind us.
“Are those turtles?”
“Yeah, do you want one?” I peeled the plastic wrap off and was delighted that he picked up two immediately, popping them in his mouth and humming.
Barry reached for one, too, but I held it out of his reach and mock-scowled at him.
He gave me puppy eyes in response, but we were interrupted by the cheers and greetings of a dozen people as we entered the main living area of the gorgeous home.
I recognized the players and Nilson’s wife, Hunter, who was still so beautiful and jumped up and down when she saw us before crossing the room to greet us. Her hair was slicked back into a very sleek low bun (my hair could never, I’ll just say that) and she had a body-hugging black dress on.
She excitedly pulled me into an embrace like I was an old bestie instead of having just met the one time before a game. Mind you, I’m not a monster, so I hugged her back with almost matched enthusiasm.
“I’m so happy you made it!”
“Thanks for having me.”
Barry smiled, the same look of pleasure that hadn’t left his face since I told him I’d be his plus-one. He accepted a hug from Hunter, too, and he and I took turns at a few rounds of complimenting her beautiful home.
“You two are too good.” Hunter waved her hands in front of her, and I noticed she had a new set of festive nails, probably also done by the WAG she told me about last time.
Nilson made his appearance, stepping up behind his wife while holding a squirming child, somewhere between three and six, I could really never tell with these things.
I would probably get better at guessing ages when I had my own little wiggler.
“Good to see you, Hannah,” Nilson said. He offered me a fist bump instead of a hug, probably because of the child. “This is Mina.”
The little girl in his arms lowered her face, shy only for a moment before she spotted my stomach and snapped to attention and pointed right at it.
“You got a baby in your tummy,” she said with authority. My heart grew maybe fourteen sizes.
“I do.” I smiled at the girl. “I like your red dress.”
She gasped again, her excitement a delight to me.
“It looks like yours,” she said. It was my turn to gasp, exaggerated shock on my face to match hers.
“You are so right, Mina.” I held out my fist for her to bump, and she did without a moment’s hesitation.
Barry watched the whole exchange, his every hopeful emotion evident in his face.
I was frightened by how much I wanted to sink into the warmth there, wanted to believe that he could love me, independent of being the mother of his own soon-to-be baby.
“Can I have one of these?” Nilson asked, pointing to my plate. I peeled off the Saran Wrap, and all three of them took one before Hunter touched my wrist and nodded toward the kitchen. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
Barry got intercepted by one of the rookies before he could make it with me to the very nice arrangement of foods set up on the kitchen island that made mine look like a bar table.
I was almost embarrassed to set my red and green paper plate next to all the platters of gorgeous desserts, hors d’oeuvres, meats, and vegetables.
Kate would lose her shit; she loved formal food spreads.
I did too. I really would have been embarrassed about my contribution to what I thought was a potluck if Hunter hadn’t reached for another pretzel and groaned, saying she loved them.
I loaded up a plate with way too much food—eating for two, etc.
—and Hunter poured me a cranberry lemonade and took me to a dining table where six other women were chatting.
They were all so polished in my eyes: perfect highlights, nice clothes, sparkly wedding rings, just what I imagined when I thought about the wives and girlfriends of professional athletes.
I felt embarrassed sitting down with my mountain of food, hair frizzy even when I curled it.
Hunter introduced the women—Lucy, Eden, Claire, Finley, Rebecca, and Marissa—and I wished we could be wearing name tags.
Their easy conversation and banter spoke to a closeness formed over years for many of them, seasons of team events and supporting each other while their partners were on the road for half of the season.
I felt like an imposter.
Food was delicious, though.
“I love your jewelry, I am a sucker for beaded necklaces like that,” Marissa said. I touched the two necklaces, both by Mom. She put a little gold charm of a Christmas tree in the center of one.
“My mom made them. She has an online shop,” I reported to the delight of the table. “She started making ones with the team colors after Barry got traded, I bet she’d give you some.”
They all got out their phones to bring up her shop, exclaiming that in no way would they accept free jewelry from my mother (they were better than me in this, I loved getting free jewelry from her). Seven orders were placed before I’d even finished my green beans.
“She’ll lose her shit if you post wearing them on Instagram.”
“Consider it done,” one of the women—Eden?—said. “Now can we talk about Barry?”
Next to Eden, Lucy dropped her head in her palm.
“Eden.”
“What? We all want to know.”
I glanced to the living room where Barry was in a conversation with some of the coaching staff, his eyes skirting toward me. He grinned when he caught me looking, and I sighed before turning back to the group of women who watched the silent exchange with wide, excited eyes.
“We’re not together,” I said.
“Does he know that?” Lucy asked as she took a bite of a Chantilly cake. A few of the others chuckled, and I’m sure my cheeks flamed.
“When we hooked up, we were both visiting New York. I didn’t think I’d see him again, but then he got traded and I ran into him, and here we are.”
“How’d you bump into him?” Marissa asked.
I took a sip of my lemonade—exquisite, by the way—and braced myself. I wasn’t ashamed of the family business or what I did for work—really, I wasn’t. But I felt like I did when I was telling Barry’s parents, like maybe these rich, lovely people would think less of me for it.
“I do custodial at the training facility,” I explained, trying my hardest not to sound like this was something I should be embarrassed about.
After a brief pause, the brunette woman to my left, Finley, exclaimed, “Oh! You’re the janitor Mike told me about. You clean in the mornings?”
“Yes, he’s so nice.” Mike Redmond was one of the players who always stopped to chat with me when the team had early practice. He often told me about his two-year-old daughter and asked how the pregnancy was treating me.
“That’s cool you work there,” Lucy said, and I believed she meant it.
“My husband said Barry just follows you around all the time before practice, is that true?” Rebecca asked. I thought about it for a moment, then tilted my head side to side.
“He does,” I agreed after a moment, and they made a variety of exclaiming noises and hoots that made me feel instantly like part of the group. I couldn’t help the smile pushing up my cheeks.
Marissa leaned on her elbows on the table, fully invested in the story.
“Bonkers that you ran into him. I thought he asked to be traded here for you.”
“He didn’t know I was pregnant,” I admitted. “I do think he would’ve masterminded the trade himself had he known, though.”
“Or retired,” Lucy chimed in, and the girls snickered again.
“This is so romantic,” Marissa said.
“Kind of like Cinderella,” Rebecca added.
“Because I’m a janitor?”