Fallon
We’re in the visitors’ locker room before game six in the WNBA finals.
We’re up three games to two in the best-of-seven series.
Game six is in New York City. We want to clinch the title tonight for obvious reasons, but for Jett and me it’s also because he can be here to see it in person.
The Camels play in LA this Sunday. If we go to a decisive game seven, it will be on Sunday, and he won’t be able to attend our game.
It’s been weighing heavily on him all week.
I haven’t seen him much lately. Between us being in the playoffs and him dealing with all the Ginny shit, the past two weeks have been the least we’ve seen each other since we started dating.
It’s wearing on me. I know it’s wearing on him too.
I’m hopeful with our season ending, things will change. They need to.
The small handful of times we were together, we spent them with Kennedy. She wants to get to know us as a couple. It’s been very natural and easy.
I gave her about a thousand openings to tell Jett about Daylen and the baby, but she refused to do so.
She said she needs to focus on the team, and she’ll deal with that after the season.
Half of why I want to win tonight is so she’ll finally tell him.
The weight of this secret is becoming too much for me to bear.
It’s going to be a problem when Jett realizes just how long I’ve known about it.
Harper caught a ride here with Kamryn. Bailey is too pregnant to leave Philly. Tanner is staying with her, but Harper wanted to be at the game. Kamryn was happy to oblige.
Harper walks into the locker room while the girls are all laughing. “What’s so funny?” she asks.
Kennedy smirks. “We’re talking about red flags.” When Harper appears clueless, Kennedy continues, “Things we don’t like in boys.”
“Like when they pick their noses?” Harper inquires innocently with a look of disgust on her face.
The girls on the team all giggle. Sulley nods. “Exactly like that.”
“What else?” Harper asks with excitement.
“Keep it clean, ladies,” I remind them. Some of their red flags are bedroom related.
Kennedy rolls her eyes. “I don’t like guys who use their middle names as their first name. Use the damn name your parents gave you.”
Harper nods in agreement. “My mommy only uses my middle name when I’m in trouble.”
Sulley smiles. “Mine too. Palmer doesn’t like boys who drink iced coffee. She thinks it’s girly.”
Harper pinches her eyebrows together. “Hmm. Uncle Daylen drinks iced coffee.”
Kennedy smirks. “Yep, he’s a walking red flag. And…” she pauses for dramatic effect, “he likes pink drinks. That’s a huge red flag for me.”
Harper giggles. “That’s funny. I don’t like boys who wear Tom Brady jerseys at school. It’s Vance McCaffrey or no one.” She scrunches her nose. “Tom Brady is so old.”
Sulley smiles widely. “You know what, Harper? I think that’s the best one of them all. You win.”
Harper pumps her fist. I may be biased, but I think she’s the cutest kid in the world. I love how she seamlessly interacts with people of all ages, and every one of them is always drawn to her. It’s her superpower.
I hug my amazing little girl and kiss her head. “Baby, my biggest flex in life is when someone asks me which kid is mine, I get to point to you.”
“Me too. I’m so lucky you’re my mommy.” She squeezes me back. “Other mommies have boring jobs. Yours is the best.”
This game is a nail-biter. It’s been back and forth all night. Both teams are playing well. We’re up by one with ten seconds left, and the other team has the ball.
During a timeout, I tell the girls, “Watch the pick and roll. They’ve been killing us on it all night. You need to slide away from your player or draw the foul before they can plant their feet.”
Coach Lakshmi nods. “Yes. And keep a hand in their faces. No open looks.”
One of the New York players is inbounding the ball.
Kennedy is all over Diane Garma as she attempts to get open for the pass.
I can hear her in Diane’s ear. “You know, Diane, a Blue Whale’s crap can weigh up to five hundred pounds, making it the second biggest piece of shit in the world, next to you. ”
I honestly don’t know where she comes up with this stuff.
Diane shoves her. “How would your hot father feel about your mouth?”
Hmm, I wonder if Kennedy has gotten crap her whole life about how good-looking her father is. I remember Layla mentioning it before too.
Without missing a beat, Kennedy replies, “I don’t know, but your dad sure likes it.”
I have to swallow down my laugh. Kennedy Jeffries is a force of nature.
The ball is inbounded. They’re looking for Diane, but Kennedy is blanketing her with her defense. She should win Defensive Player of the Year in the league. She’s so damn good.
Palmer’s player sets a pick for Langford, the player who ends up with the ball.
Palmer’s player then rolls. It’s like slow motion. Langford passes her the ball for an easy two-foot jump shot as time expires.
The ball rolls around the rim a few times as we all watch it. And then it goes in for the basket. Game over. New York wins.
New York piles on top of the player who made the game-winning shot, while our girls hang their heads in defeat and walk off to the locker room.
I look over to Jett and see him also hanging his head. I feel so bad for him. He’s going to miss the decisive game seven.