Chapter 29
Taysom
“To the bride and groom!” One of my dad’s friends says in a toast at the reception.
I can’t remember his name because I’m getting the vibe that they’re not old friends.
He must be one of the newer ones from after I joined the NFL.
My dream of playing professionally added some weird dynamics in my father’s life.
He started doing things a lot differently than he had before.
One of those things was a dating life on steroids.
Case in point? I’m at his wedding. His third wedding. He and Breanne split up a couple of years ago and now he’s marrying his personal trainer, Jess, who is also fourteen years younger than he is.
I should round up all the women I know who are exactly fourteen years younger than him and warn them, right? That someday, he might be coming for them.
It’s cynical and probably unfair. But yet, here we are again.
My sister, Emma and her husband, Anthony, and their young son, Chandler, stay glued to this table all during the reception.
I make the rounds, wandering around the various guests and trying to strike up conversations.
Uncomfortable doesn’t even begin to cut it.
Besides the random extended family member—there aren’t very many of them on Dad’s side—we know no one else here.
And there’s still an hour and a half left.
Kyle and Charlotte said they’d be coming.
Charlotte offered to come with me, to be my buffer in this crazy scenario, but I knew she had a virtual job interview.
A follow-up one. Her current job at the center is officially ending soon so she really needed to do this.
But she and Kyle will be getting here soon, I hope.
Part of me feels bad about subjecting her to all this, though.
“Would he hate us if we left early?” Emma leans over in a conspiratorial whisper, twisting a white linen napkin in her hands. “We could say we’re worried it might rain again, so we need to get home.”
A few minutes earlier, there was a Texas-sized downpour outside, and the big, open double doors leading to more reception tables had to be closed. But as only Texas can, things cleared within minutes and the sky is back to showing off the blaze of the sunset.
Which reminds me of Charlotte.
“I was just wondering the same thing.” I laugh, but I know I won’t leave early. I can’t do that to my dad.
I thought being a pro football player would solve all our problems. I know that sounds silly.
But my family was broken for so long that the prestige and money and all that comes with this job seemed like just the thing.
The only connection I ever had with my dad was with football.
So part of me thought, oh, playing professionally?
That’s a surefire way for my dad and me to be even more bonded… closer than ever.
But it didn’t work out that way. Even before I got drafted, when I was playing college ball, Dad started doing interviews. The media loved him. He’s animated, high energy. He understands football and was proud of me, and all that came through onscreen.
When I joined the NFL, the number of interviews and appearances he did increased. It was almost like he was viewing it as his career, not mine. He started going to parties and things we never had access to before I joined the Wolves.
He still comes to all my home games and the occasional away game. I like having him there. He has good insights and perspectives to discuss.
Sports. That’s what we talk about. We can’t seem to make that jump from sports stats and game analyses to anything deeper. I used to try, and it never worked. He’d joke away any comment I made to try to segue into other parts of my life. I eventually stopped trying.
And a part of me thought we’d grow closer the better I got at football. The more famous I got. That somehow that would break the walls between us. But if anything, we’re more distant than ever.
What’s odd is, I don’t think he’s happy. Even now, on his wedding day, he’s not acting like himself.
But do I even really know my dad anymore? Come to think of it, did I ever really know him?
And there’s Jess. She seems really happy today, which I’m grateful for, but I barely know her. I can’t help but feel like he’s rushed into this.
In my opinion, he needed to focus on himself and healing his own wounds—his own crap—before getting married again.
But here we are. I take a sip of my drink, letting the ice cubes clink against each other in the glass, stewing over my father and our lack of connection. The storm brewing behind his eyes. Does anyone here know him well enough to even see it?
The orchestra starts playing a slow song and my dad and Jess begin to dance.
“You seem to be loving this about as much as I am,” Emma says with half a smile. “I want to leave so bad.”
My gaze sweeps around the room. “I hardly know anyone here.”
Where did he even get these friends? Maybe they’re Jess’s side of the family? Her friends?
All I know is, a lot of people have introduced themselves to me, congratulating me on my last game of the season, which happened to be a win. It’s nice to hear that from people, but right now? I kind of want to go home and be with Charlotte.
Because my dad marrying yet another woman who isn’t my mom is hard. I want him to be happy, but I’m not sure he is.
I hope he is.
Thoughts of Charlotte’s big baby browns filter through my mind and body.
I’m in love with her. It’s a love that has caught ahold of me and won’t let go. She’s so fierce and devoted and interesting. She’s gorgeous and funny. She’s got a wit that would make a monk crack up.
I love her. I don’t exactly know when it happened, but here I am.
Not that we’ve defined anything yet, not in so many words.
If I were to marry Charlotte, what would that be like? We wouldn’t get married in a stuffy, high-end hotel like this. No. I could see her wanting to get married in a church. A cute little stone church on a hill in the spring with her entire family present.
I can picture her in a white dress, her hair down, maybe a clip at the back of her head for a veil. Or better yet, maybe not a veil at all. Maybe she’d choose just to let her sunset hair trail down her back in all its glory.
I love her. But looking at the wreckage of my father’s life is doing something to my resolve. I want to love her. Outright. Completely. And without any hesitations or complications.
But what kind of life is the NFL? I travel even more than my dad did all my growing-up years, and look how things turned out for his family? We were broken up because of it.
I want to provide a stable life for my future wife and kids, but I’m living on borrowed time here in San Antonio as it is.
Especially considering the new darling on the team, Casey Riddock, who, any day now, could claim the starting quarterback position and leave me stranded without a plan. Without a team.
Also? It’s kind of ironic that football was supposed to keep my family happy and together and it’s going to take me far away from them. It’s also the thing that’s preventing me from starting my own family.
I don’t want to hurt Charlotte the way my dad hurt my mom.
Granted, my dad hurt her in other ways than his absence. He neglected her. But still, the thought of missing out on Charlotte’s life because I’m too busy living mine is just selfish and cruel.
I’m stuck in these circles of thinking. I know I am.
I take another drink from my glass and as I lower it, I see Kyle, grinning and making his way to me. He’s in a dark suit and a black tie. I stand as he approaches me, and that’s when I see her.
Charlotte. In a light blue, short-sleeved, shimmery dress.
“You made it.”
She flashes a smile and then worries her lip. “We’re later than we expected. We were on Kyle Standard Time.”
Kyle snorts, his hands in his suit pants pockets. “Excuse me? I had to wait for you to do your makeup. How long should it take to slap some paint on your face?”
Still standing, she runs a hand along the edge of the table. “I wasn’t doing my makeup. I was touching up my makeup. There’s a big difference. You were late picking me up, so it’d started to melt off. So, see? It’s your fault, obviously.”
“How was the interview?”
She smiles. “I feel good about it. Except they admitted they weren’t looking to hire for the position until the start of the third quarter, at the earliest. I don’t want to be unemployed until July or later.”
“This is the one in Tulsa, right?”
“Yes, I don’t want to have to move.”
I don’t want her to do that, either, but I have no idea what to say. It’s easier to just focus on the here and now. “You’ll figure it out. Whatever happens will be the right thing.”
Words I should say to myself but somehow can’t.
She just offers a small smile before her gaze goes to the floor.
“Well,” I say. “I appreciate you coming tonight. That’s really great of you, especially since neither of you know my dad very well.” I cross my arms over my chest and shift my weight to my other foot. It’s been a long son-of-the-groom day today.
“We’re here for you, man. And I’m glad the invite said it’s open house style. That means we’re not late at all.” Kyle shakes his head and sits down heavily in the chair next to mine.
“I appreciate you getting dressed up,” I say to Kyle. “You look like you’re going to a funeral, but it’s fine.”
“Ha. Ha.” He turns to Emma and her family to say hello.
“You do not look like you’re going to a funeral,” I say to Charlotte, letting my eyes take her in. I wrap my hand around her waist, the slick, light blue fabric against my palm. “You look insanely beautiful.”
She quirks her lips and slides in closer to me. “My hair is insane.” She gives me a quick hug. “But thank you. Willa helped me pick it out. Look at you, son of the groom. You look hot.”
“First of all, your hair is like a mermaid. It’s stunning. And secondly, the suit was mandatory. Jess picked it out and had it sent over.”
Charlotte smooths her hand down my lapel. “Jess has good taste. Although, it doesn’t matter what you wear, you always look good.”
I kiss her temple, tripped up by what a knockout she is in this dress. Her skin is so white, it has the sheen of a plate of glass. I bend to kiss the freckles dotting her shoulder. But one isn’t enough. I kiss her shoulder a second and then a third time, her soft skin tantalizing my lips.
Emma clears her throat. “Um, hi, Charlotte.” She gives an awkward laugh.
“Emma, hi!” Charlotte tears away from me and rounds the table to give her a hug. “You are a knockout in this red,” she says. “And look at Chandler’s little tux!”
I watch as Charlotte talks to my nephew, Chandler, this bowling ball of a kid, barely two years old and solid. This kid is going to be a linebacker if I ever saw one.
She’s talking to him like he’s the only person in the room.
Maybe things could be different with Charlotte? I don’t have to do what my dad did to my mom.
Maybe if I’m lucky, I can take a page out of the Mercer’s book. They love each other—still do. It’s so tangible that I can feel it. Is that because Charlotte’s dad doesn’t travel for work, or is it more than that?
Whatever their secret sauce is, I want some of it. Maybe Charlotte inherited enough of it to make up for what I lack. Could I ever be so fortunate to be with her? Is there enough of that happy family fairy dust on her it could rub off on me?
The orchestra is playing a slow song, and a lot of the guests are out on the dance floor. It only takes me a minute to realize it’s a Miley Cyrus song—a very slow version of it.
I think Charlotte realizes it at the same moment that I do because her mouth drops open and her eyes gleam at me.
“Dance with me?” I ask.
She nods and I take her hand and lead her out on the dance floor. Wrapping my hands around her smooth waist, I tug her close. Kyle’s watching us closely. He’s probably starting to figure out that there’s something going on between us. Do I need to say something to him?
“This song begs the question. How’s our little Miley?”
“She’s awesome,” Charlotte murmurs, her head tilted so near me.
Everything about her draws me in. The way she looks, smells, tastes. The way she shows up in the world. Everything.
Except, my heart breaks a little as I look over and see my father and Jess. They’re not dancing anymore. They’re sitting at a table in the corner. Jess’s jaw is set, her face stone. My dad looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here.
Are they arguing? Did something happen?
Am I going to someday cause Charlotte pain like my father has with every woman he’s been involved with?
I won’t do that. And having Charlotte in my arms reminds me of a core difference between my father and Jess, and me and Charlotte.
We’re not them. Charlotte and I have known each other for well over ten years.
And I’m going to do whatever it takes to hold onto her.
To not take her for granted. To love her well.
With both of our futures so up in the air, I just hope I get the chance.