8. Noah
noah
. . .
T he bonfire crackles as the sun starts to set over the ocean. All around, family members are talking, carrying on like they haven’t seen each other in years, instead of months. For some of us, it’s only been weeks. After the camping trip, I went back to Portland to start training, while Peyton stayed at her parents. With the long hours of working out and watching game film, I suggested she stay in California, even though I could’ve easily used her knowledge and keen eye to make my game better. My girl just knows football. It’s one of the qualities I love so much about her.
I look around our little circle and realize how lucky I am. I have teammates whose parents are too old to travel or, for whatever reason, they’re not on speaking terms. I can’t imagine not talking to my mom or dad on any given day. I still harbor some resentment over the fact my father was missing for the first ten years of my life. I know, it wasn’t his fault or my mother’s, but the pang of missing important moments with him still lingers.
The women are all gathered together, forming a circle around my soon to be wife. Each day, I wake and pinch myself, to make sure I’m not dreaming. My life is my dream. Peyton and I are going to be married. I want to know the statistics of guys choosing a wedding date because that is where we are right now. I’ve given her a date, one that I know she wants, but she won’t pull the proverbial trigger. I know she doesn’t have cold feet, she fears repercussions. I say screw it, and screw them. This is our lives and we should be the only thought when it comes to our wedding. However, the season is approaching fast and I’m going to be tied up, hopefully until the first weekend of February, and I want to be able to help her. I know our moms can handle it, but I want to be a part of making Peyton’s fairytale come true. Hell, I want to be Prince Charming and have my fairytale too. I don’t want to just show up. It’s another dream, leading the Portland Pioneers to the Super Bowl, but not one that’s out of reach. Our offseason acquisitions put us high on the depth charts and the rookie sensation we drafted is sure to give us the boost we’re going to need to get over the expansion hump.
Their laughter makes me smile. Even from here, I know they’re looking at the wedding book Peyton has meticulously put together. Everything from flowers, to dresses and color schemes. Each section of her binder is organized by season. I have yet to fully look through it, I get glimpses when she’s sitting beside me and assumes I’m not paying attention to her. The thing is, I’m always watching her, memorizing the way she flips the pages and what season her eyes light up at - Christmas. It’s what I want too.
“Do you ever feel like they’re talking about you?” Quinn nods toward the group. Not a single one of them is looking around to see if anyone is staring at them. They’re too busy oohing and aahing over the collection Peyton is showing them.
“They are talking about me,” I tell him. “That’s Peyton’s wedding bible.”
“Ah,” Quinn says, almost as if he understands. Someday, he will. But until then, I’m just happy he agreed to be my best man. Asking him while we were camping was perfect. Together, with our fishing poles, I poured my heart out to him, telling him how I used to be jealous of the relationship he has with my father. But the more I got to know him, the more it dawned on me that Quinn and I are more alike than we are different. He’s my best friend and there isn’t anyone else that I want standing up next to me as Peyton, albeit his sister, walks down the aisle toward me.
“Yep,” I sigh as I get up, checking to see if Quinn wants something to drink as I head to the cooler. He tells me he’s good, but that he’ll take one of the cookies sitting out on the tray. Luckily, for me, the cooler is near the love of my life and it gives me an opportunity to be in her presence for a few seconds. It’s funny to think I spent most of my life with her, growing up next to her, and yet I can’t get enough of her. During the season, the few days we’re apart are the hardest of my week. I don’t care how many times I’m sacked on Sundays—well I do care, but it’s different—missing her is an ache I can’t describe. Even though I know I’m going to see her, my heart still breaks each time we have to say goodbye.
I don’t want to think about what life will be like if she takes the job here. While she was in Chicago, she didn’t have classes every single day so while I was there, we spent time together. Here, things would be different. She’d travel with the team and we’d be passing each other, most likely in planes, thirty-thousand feet in the air. But if this is the job she wants, she needs to take it and not worry about us. I’ll figure that part out because there isn’t anything, I wouldn’t do for her.
Standing behind Peyton and the rest of the female contingent, I pick up bits and pieces of their conversation. It’s my mother who suggests we don’t have a winter wedding. My mom knows. She’s been around football for a long time. Peyton lets out a dejected sigh and an almost too quiet “I know” that really hits me square in the chest. It seems that I’ve been clear as mud when it comes to choosing a date and need to really drive the message home that if my girl wants to get married in the winter, I’ll make it happen. Even if I have to fake an injury.
“You look lost,” my dad says as he stands next to me. “Unless you’re admiring.”
I laugh because all you can see are the backsides of everyone. “Just listening.”
Dad reaches into the cooler and pulls out two beers, handing me one. “Let’s take a walk.”
“I need to deliver a cookie to Quinn.” However, Dad doesn’t care and puts his arm on my shoulder, directing me toward the darkened beach. “Is there something wrong?”
“Nope,” he says as we trudge through the sand. “Just want to talk to my son for a minute, away from everyone else.”
We walk until our feet start to sink into the wet sand from the receding tide. “What’s on your mind?”
He laughs. “Not mine, yours. I wasn’t kidding when I said you looked lost back there. What’s going on?”
I sigh heavily and take a quick drink from the bottle of beer. Not my favorite, but right now I don’t care. “Peyton wants a Christmas wedding but is fearful of the backlash. Not only from the league and players but future employers. I’ve tried telling her none of that matters, but she’s worried about my image and how she will be perceived.”
Dad is silent as we stand there listening to the ocean as it laps at the shore. For the most part, the beach is private, and the only people out here are the homeowners. Long put away are the pile of surf and wakeboards we had out earlier. Even though it stormed weeks ago, Quinn was still insistent that we hit the waves.
“So why not just propose the date to her?”
“I have.”
“Try harder,” he smirks. Such a wise, smart-ass, man.
Later that night, Peyton and I lie in bed, facing each other. It’s times like this when I wish we had rented a hotel room, but her parents would be hurt. Of course, I should be thankful they allow me to stay the night with her. I think they know if I weren’t allowed, she wouldn’t stay here.
“You looked like you were having a good time going through your book tonight.”
“I was,” she says. “It’s nice to be here with everyone instead of exchanging emails about ideas. Where did you go with your dad?”
“You noticed?”
“I always notice, Noah. As soon as you started walking away, I knew.”
I slide a bit closer to her. “Did you watch me walk away?” I ask, teasing her.
Thankfully, the moonlight is beaming through the window because without it, I wouldn’t be able to tell she’s blushing. I run my thumb over the pinkness of her cheek and smile. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Tell me what you want, Peyton. You know I’ll give it to you.” She doesn’t say anything, although I can see it in her eyes; she has so much to say. “Will you marry me?” I ask her.
Peyton grins. “I’ve already said yes, a few times. You don’t have to keep asking me again. I’m not going to change my mind.”
I inch closer and rest my hand on her hip. “I wasn’t finished with my question. Peyton, will you marry me on Christmas Day in front of our friends and family in the same church where my parents were married?” I leave out the part where we mourned her father so many years ago.
“Noah?”
“It’s a Tuesday, Peyton. I know this is what you want. A Christmas wedding. I see your face light up each time you’re looking through your winter section. And as it turns out, we’ll have a bye the following weekend so we can go away for a few days. Our honeymoon won’t be much, but we’ll be together. The only thing that I don’t know, that I can’t tell you about is your schedule and what you will do. But with Christmas being a Tuesday, surely you’d be off.”
“Are you sure, Noah? Your teammates, they’ll talk. My future employer…”
“Without a doubt, Peyton. I just want to marry you and if you want a Christmas wedding, we’ll make it happen.”
Peyton launches herself forward and presses her lips to mine. “I love you so much,” she says against my lips. “You have no idea.”
“I think I do,” I tell her as I pull her tight to my body. As much as I want to make love to her, we can’t. I won’t disrespect her parents in their home. Instead, we make out like teenagers, pausing only to talk about wedding plans.
“I have to make a decision about a job.”
“Or you don’t,” I tell her. “No one will fault you for taking more time for yourself, or even taking time to plan your wedding.”
Peyton runs her fingers through my hair. “The offer from the Rams is really nice, but the distance?—”
“We’d make it work if it’s what you wanted.”
She lays her head down on my chest and drags her fingers lazily over my skin. I hold her tight, wishing I could make things easy for us. It’s like we’ve been dealt one blow after another and we haven’t even started our lives together as husband and wife yet.
The loud shrill of my phone ringing rouses me from sleep. I reach for it and realize that Peyton’s no longer in bed. “Hello?”
“Did I wake you?” Bud Walter’s booming voice echoes through the receiver.
“No… sort of. What’s up?” I ask my coach.
“Be here in an hour, we need to talk.”
“I’m in California. I can meet tomorrow,” I tell him, sitting up and rubbing the sleepiness away from my face. I’m exhausted and wonder what time it is. Peyton and I were up all night talking about the wedding. Things were going well until I suggested Santa Claus marry us and that we have elves for ushers.
“Westbury, I can’t stress enough how important it is that you get here, now.”
“What’s going on, Coach?”
He sighs. It’s loud and sounds disgruntled. He jostles the phone and then clears his throat. “Sorry, I needed to move rooms. Listen, I don’t know what you’re doing there, but the owners got wind that you’re shopping yourself to the Rams and they’re pissed. They thought you liked it here and were going to sign an extension. I did too.”
My heart drops. I don’t want to think the worst, but I am. If the Rams are using Peyton to get to me, they’ll be sorry for hurting her. I’ll make sure of it, and if I lose my job because of them, I’ll sue them.
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I haven’t met with the Rams or anyone. My fiancée… they offered her a job a few weeks back, that’s it.”
“Unfortunately, the newswire has a different story. Just get here, Westbury, the sooner, the better.” He hangs up, leaving me with nothing but an agonizing feeling. I’m going to lose my job.
I get dressed, throw my clothes in my suitcase, send an urgent text to my dad that I need the plane, and walk out into the living room to find Peyton, her mom, and sister hovering over piles of magazines.
“Hey, babe,” she says when she sees me. The smile she has quickly faded once she notices my bags. “Are you leaving?”
“The Rams…” I pause and think hard about how I should approach this. I don’t want her to feel used, but that’s exactly how things look. “I have to go back to Portland and meet with the staff. Someone is saying that I’m shopping the Rams for an offer.”
Peyton stands, the mortification of my words evident on her face. “We never even spoke about you in the interview.”
I nod. “I know.”
“Are you getting cut?”
I shake my head slightly. “I need to go and do damage control.”
“Harrison is outside, Noah. I’ll have him drive you to the airfield,” Katelyn scrambles toward the door as Peyton comes toward me.
“That’s such shit,” Elle blurts out. “Peyton doesn’t need you to get a job.”
“Elle,” Peyton scolds.
“She’s right, you don’t need me. I don’t think the Rams got that message though.” I hate saying it, but why else would they spread the rumor that I’m meeting with them? They have to know this isn’t how you go after someone whose contract is coming due. “I have to go,” I tell Peyton, who’s on the verge of tears. I lean down and kiss her. “I love you.”
I have to force myself to leave her standing there, knowing she’s about to break down. Her sister is there, and as angry as Elle is, she’ll take care of Peyton while I’m gone.