CHAPTER 34 Ford Bradley
Best Man
When I walk out of my bedroom in my practice apparel on Friday morning, I find Tatum sitting on the floor near the tree.
She’s wearing some ridiculous pajamas with reindeer wearing Santa hats, and she has the lights on the twinkle-blinking setting.
She’s sipping from a mug of hot chocolate as she stares down at the boxes under the tree.
There are only a few. It’s certainly not the spectacle the Bradley Christmas mornings were, back when there were at least ten presents per kid, all bought and wrapped by assistants and hired help. We didn’t know it back then, but even if we had, I don’t think we would’ve cared.
I care about what’s under this tree, though.
The woman I love, for one thing.
“Merry Christmas,” she says. “Just so you know, I’m starting the day with your McGillicuddy’s.”
I chuckle. “I’d join you, but I have practice in an hour.”
She makes a pouting face, and I laugh.
“Open that one,” I say, nodding to the small box directly beside her.
She tears the paper off, and when she flips open the little box, she stares at the contents inside before she glances up at me, her eyes shining.
“This is gorgeous, Ford.”
She takes the necklace out of the box it’s nestled in, and she holds it up to inspect it. It’s a silver chain with a delicate pendant on the end, a diamond outline of a dolphin shape. She immediately puts it on.
“I love it. That was so sweet of you.” She stands, and I meet her halfway to press a soft kiss to her lips. “Your turn!” She grabs a box and shoves it at me, and I chuckle.
I open it, and it’s a bottle of McGillicuddy’s—the big size.
“I figured I’ve gone through probably a bottle of this shit all on my own, so you deserved a new one.”
I laugh. “That was very thoughtful.”
We each open a few more gifts, and the final one is a large one hiding in the back that she got for me. I can’t begin to imagine what it is, but when I open it, I can’t help but laugh even as the meaning hits me.
“This is amazing,” I say, studying the two-by-three-foot canvas print that’s clearly a screenshot from the viral video where I proposed to her while dolphins danced behind us.
I kiss her softly, tenderly, and then I need to get going to practice.
By some miracle, we just barely grab the victory on Sunday even without Landry. The other team was riddled with injuries, too, and I guess they were down more starters than we were.
That means we’re in for Wild Card Weekend. We’ll either advance to a longer season, or it’ll all be over.
Except for Christmas morning, I’ve been forced to keep my distance from Tatum since we got back, barring the one indiscretion on the kitchen counter—one that just so happens to make me hard every goddamn time I walk into my kitchen.
We’ve been tasked with extra film to study along with extra meetings to prepare for our opponents.
I don’t want to keep my distance, but in order to focus on football, it’s been a necessity.
But with that said, I’m getting married on Thursday.
I’ve done zero preparations for it. She’s done everything.
I’m not quite sure what to expect other than the fact that Tatum has told me I need a best man.
I know exactly who to ask, and I do it on Sunday after the game.
We traveled for this one, so we’re on the plane back to Tampa when I turn to the guy in the seat beside me, closest to the window…my closest friend here in Tampa.
“I have a question for you,” I say to Cole.
He narrows his eyes at me. “You wanna go out tonight? I’m beat after that game, man, but I guess I can force myself to—”
I hold up a hand. “No.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Okay. Then what?”
“I’m getting married, and I was wondering if you’d be my best man.”
His eyes go from narrowed to wide so fast that I think they might pop right out of his head. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“When?”
“Thursday.”
He chokes. “Thursday, like as in four days?”
I nod.
“New Year’s Eve. There better be some premium pussy there for me to give up my plans for this shit,” he mutters.
I laugh. “You don’t have to give up any plans. I just need you for an hour to witness. Then you can be on your way. We’re not doing anything over the top.”
“I didn’t even know you were seeing anybody, let alone serious about somebody,” he says.
“Her name’s Tatum—”
“Wait a minute. Tatum? I saw the viral video, but I figured it was AI or some shit. Wasn’t your brother serious with her like five minutes ago?”
I grimace, and he lets out a low whistle.
“Premium pussy,” he murmurs.
“Huh?”
“It’s the only explanation.” He shrugs as if it all makes sense.
“I mean, yeah. It’s premium. Definitely. But there’s more to it,” I say.
“Of course there is.”
I’m quiet as I debate how much to give away.
“Well, out with it. What am I agreeing to here?”
Fuck it. I decide to tell him everything. He’s an impartial third party, so maybe he’ll have some insight I haven’t thought through yet. “I love her, and I think she loves me. But there are reasons we decided to fast-track this.”
“She’s pregnant,” he guesses, his voice flat.
“No! I haven’t even fucked her yet.”
He makes a face of horror. “And you’re marrying her? Are you saving yourself for marriage, Bradley?”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t know why I bothered talking about this with you.”
“Okay, okay,” he says, holding up both hands. “I’ll stop. Go on.”
“She’s a wedding planner. We invested together in a property. The woman who sold it to us is elderly and has nobody to leave her money to, and she said she’d return our investment to us if we’re the first couple to get married at the estate after it switched ownership.”
“To the tune of…” He trails off as he waits for me to fill in the blank.
“Five million dollars.”
He lets out another low whistle. “Fuck, man. I can see why you’d fast-track it. But isn’t that messy with your brother and your feelings for her?”
I nod. “Incredibly messy.”
“And not like you at all.”
I shake my head. “Zero percent like me. But I’ve loved her since I was a teenager, and I’m not passing up the opportunity to have everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“Damn, bro. I didn’t peg you for a romantic.”
“Make no mistake, I’ll still kick your ass.”
He laughs. “Right. Text me when and where, and I’ll be there. Oh! Should I wear my tux?”
I tilt my head. “I have no idea. I’ll get back to you on all of that.”
He laughs. “You’re an idiot.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, and then I text the actual boss to get all the details.
* * *
I glance through my schedule one more time for the rest of this week.
We have practice tomorrow morning that gets out in the early afternoon, I’ll get married, and then we have a late start on Friday since we’ve already secured our wild card spot and it’s the morning after a night when we’ll all be up later than usual.
Tatum informed me that we have a rehearsal on Wednesday evening, so Cole and I head out of practice together and drive toward the Winston Manor so I can show him around.
When I walk in, I find Tatum chatting with Ms. Winston, and a perky blonde woman stands beside Tatum.
“Oh, you’re here,” Tatum says, and she beelines for me. She presses a kiss to my lips, and her eyes edge over to Cole, who’s eyeing the blonde woman up and down like he’s never seen a woman in the flesh before.
“This is Cole, my best man,” I say, elbowing him in the ribs to get his attention. I’m pretending to introduce him to Ms. Winston, not Tatum, since I don’t particularly want to raise Ms. Winston’s suspicions, and learning that my best man is just meeting my bride might just do that.
“Nice to meet you,” he says to Tatum. I elbow him again.
Tatum plays it smoothly, though. “Oh, stop, Cole. Good to see you again. You remember Kenzie, right, Cole?” She’s playing that we’ve all met and hung out before. Well done, future bride. “My best friend from Vegas. She’s my matron of honor.”
I’m trying to remember if matron versus maid means married or single when I spot the giveaway on her left-hand ring finger, and I hope Cole notices it, too.
That’s when a dude walks through the kitchen doors and straight up to Kenzie, slipping his arm around her waist. He must be in the know, too, because he nods at me.
“Ford, man, great to see you again.” He holds out a hand, and I slap it first, and then we fist bump as if we’re old friends. Bro code for the win.
“What did you think of the kitchen, Cody?” Tatum asks, clearly so we can figure out this dude’s name.
“It’s incredible.” He does the hand-slap, fist-bump thing with Cole, too, pretending to know him as well, and Ms. Winston seems fooled enough.
We run through the ceremony. It’ll take place at sunset, and Cody is going to officiate. We’ll share a small catered dinner afterward, and provided all goes to plan, I’ll be home fucking my wife when the clock strikes midnight.
Jesus.
I can’t fucking wait.