17. Peyton
peyton
. . .
I have never been one to gloat or brag about my success or even Noah’s when the time isn’t right. It’s a trait that I learned from my dad. He never talked about a hit that the band would have or comment on a song nominated for a Grammy until the time was right. That time being on the red carpet or during an interview. If someone came up to him in a grocery store and said something, my dad simply replied with a thank you.
Right now, I want to forget the lesson he taught me. I want to stand on my desk, dance a little jig, and run up and down the halls of the building, yelling about the headline in the paper. James Makes a Difference . Even without reading the article, I know it’s about me.
When the reporter called and asked me a few questions, I had no idea what the article was going to be about, until last night when he emailed it to me, saying it would be on the front page of the paper. Not just local, but nationwide.
The picture of me is one taken from a recent game. Julius Cunningham, Chase Montgomery, and I are talking about one of the plays. I don’t remember exactly what I was saying, but in the picture, both guys are focused on what I’m telling them.
Taking this job, I was apprehensive. I didn’t know how I’d fit in, whether they’d treat me as a coach, or if the guys would even listen to me. I also had reservations. There was a tiny voice in the back of my head that wouldn’t go away. It kept reminding me that Noah’s the quarterback and that he’s the only reason I got the job. I think I’ve proven otherwise.
The Pioneers are eight and three going into the Thanksgiving holiday. They are off to their best start ever, which isn’t saying much since they’re an expansion team and only a few years old. However, this is where the owners saw their team all along, as one of the top contenders in the division, and I’m being credited with some of their success.
I say some because I can only do so much. The players, the guys who bust ass day in and day out, who put it all on the line any given Sunday deserve most, if not all, of the credit. They’re winning because they’re playing as a team. There isn’t a single selfish player on the field who is looking to pad their stats. No one is looking to be a hero. Not even Noah, who is having a remarkable year. His trajectory is deadly, and the receivers are racking up yards by the hundreds to prove it. Our defensive line is holding offensives to an average of about twenty points per game, while our offense is scoring almost thirty a game. Not the best in the league, but better than anything they’ve done in the past.
“Knock, knock.”
I look up from the article to find Logan Baker standing in my doorway. My office has become my sanctuary. My parents bought me a painting for my wall. It’s still sitting in the corner and will probably stay there. The weekend before training camp started, Noah and I came in and painted the walls with dry erase paint. I wanted to be able to utilize every inch with plays and notes, without cluttering my office. Right now, it looks like the playbook threw up all over the place with x’s, o’s and lines going in every which direction. Everyone knows if I’m not in here, you’ll find me in the film room or on the field. I stay as far away from the players as possible, especially Noah. I don’t want to give anyone an excuse to complain about either of us.
“Hey.” Logan walks in and sits down in the chair in front of my desk. My secretary insisted that I have a chair in my office even though I rarely have anyone in here. Because I work mostly with the team, I meet with them on the field or in a classroom.
Over the past couple of months, Logan and I have become friends. He’s young, ambitious, and wants to succeed. He bought this team with his inheritance and has put his blood, sweat, and tears into building a franchise.
“Great article,” he says.
“It’s…”
“You know, Peyton. It’s okay to take credit for something you deserve.”
“I can only show the guys what I see and give them suggestions on how to make a change. I can’t physically go out there and play the game. That’s on the players, the team.”
Logan chuckles. I’m not sure what he finds funny about the whole situation. The last time I checked, football is a team sport, and you need eleven players doing their job, in hopes to score.
“Westbury tells me that you can throw the ball.”
I scoff. Noah exaggerates everything when it comes to me. Lately, it’s been my cooking. Sure, I can make the basics, but anything major and I’m calling for delivery. When he invited everyone to our house in California for Thanksgiving dinner, I wanted to maim him. Cooking for two is one thing, cooking for twenty when everyone is expecting the perfect meal, is a whole other game changer. I’m not embarrassed to say it. I’ve paid someone to cater our holiday dinner. Plus, I don’t have time, even if I wanted to take on the task of feeding everyone.
“Maybe in high school, but my days of throwing the spiral are done with bare feet in the sand and Noah on the receiving end. I’m not looking to make a career under the pads.”
“No, I think you’re doing pretty well with what you have going on now. Let’s talk about your upcoming wedding.”
A sense of dread washes over me. Not because I’m worried about what Logan might think, but because I haven’t done any planning. Elle and Paige picked out their own dresses. Noah ordered our invitations, but they’re still in boxes because we don’t have a guest list. My dress has been ready for at least a month and is still at the shop waiting for me to pick it up. The groomsmen don’t have their suits. I ordered the flowers months ago and have honestly forgotten what they look like. We have nothing planned for a reception, nor have we booked the church for the actual ceremony. We haven’t secured a minister or talked about our vows. My wedding is supposed to be in five weeks and I’m the most disorganized bride to ever walk the planet. I’m surprised Noah hasn’t called the whole thing off.
“What do you want to know?” Probably where his invite is.
Logan leans forward and sets a small envelope down on the table with my Aunt Josie’s name on it. “What’s this?” I ask, turning it over and pulling out an RSVP card.
“I’m letting you know I’ll be there.”
“Um… I don’t understand.”
Logan looks at me oddly.
“What I mean is, I didn’t send this out. How did you get it?”
He shrugs and stands, preparing to leave my office. “It came in the mail. See you after Thanksgiving.” Logan leaves me in my office, holding this card with his name and the number of people attending. I flip it over, hoping for some more information, but there isn’t anything.
The entire flight to California, Noah ignored me. He pretended to sleep or acted so enthralled with the book he’s reading that he couldn’t be bothered to answer any of the questions I have about the reservation card Logan gave me earlier. I tried asking Elle, my mom, and Josie, but they all acted like they had no idea what’s going on. Clearly, someone is up to something and whoever it is, needs to spill the beans.
Not far from our house is a private airfield. After we bought the house, Noah made friends with the guy, promised him some tickets to a few games in exchange for us being able to land the jet there. It’s such a convenience, not having to deal with traffic, and once we land, we’re home within minutes.
Noah pulls our SUV up to the curb, avoiding the garage. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, why?”
“Why aren’t you pulling into the garage?”
“The door has been sticking. I’m not sure if Hank has fixed it yet.” Hank, being the man we hired to manage the property while we’re in Portland for the season. He makes sure everything’s in working order, that the shrubs stay nice and trimmed, mows what little lawn we have, and the pool is clean and functioning. He’ll stay on, even after we move here in February.
“Huh.” I get out of the car, grab my bag and head toward the front door. I love this house and it’s cute New England charm. When I reach the top of the stairs, I run my finger along the wood shingle. Who knew something like a cedar shingle would give a house so much character.
Inside, I go directly to our master bedroom. Noah and I haven’t been able to spend much time here, but in a few months, all that will change. Unpacking quickly, I begin to wonder where Noah is. I call out for him, and nothing.
“Odd,” I say to myself as I walk through the house. It’s a bit chilly today, the glass walls are closed to keep the heat in, but the view is still as spectacular as ever. “Noah?” This time I yell, and he hollers back that he’s downstairs. Of course, he is. He has a man cave down there.
I have to turn the lights on in the hallway, and again in the great room. As soon as they come on, my eyes barely have time to adjust before a cacophony of voices scream “Surprise!”
“Holy shit.” I hold my hand over my chest to try and squash the rapid beating. “What is this?”
Noah comes toward me with a big smile on his face. “It’s your bridal shower.”
“My what?” That’s when everything starts to come into focus. The room is decorated with white and silver bridal décor, there’s a table full of presents, a cake and heaps of food, and the people that are here: my mom, sister, grandma, Yvie, Noah’s family, and my sorority sisters.
Noah leans down and whispers into my ear, “Every bride deserves a party. Enjoy it.”
“Did you do this for me?” Tears start to form in my eyes and I’m doing everything I can to stop from crying.
“It was a team effort.”
My mom and Josie come over, followed by everyone else. One by one, I give everyone a hug. “How?” I ask my mom after I’ve greeted everyone and have had a moment to decompress.
“Josie and I, along with your sister and Betty Paige. Noah has helped with information when we asked. We realized that you’re both so busy that you don’t have time to plan a wedding.” My mom reaches for my hand. “I know you want to get married at Christmas, and you will. We’ve taken care of everything. You and Noah just have to show up.”
“Are you serious? You’ve taken care of everything?”
Both moms nod. “Noah has been sneaking us pictures of your wedding book. We’ve implemented everything. The groomsmen have their suits. As you know, the flowers are taken care of. The dads met with the caterers and DJ for the reception.”
I can’t hold back the tears any longer. My family has taken care of everything to give me my dream wedding. I look around the room, it’s filled with people I love. Some of whom I haven’t seen since graduation. Everyone is talking to each other, they’re eating and drinking, waiting for me to join them.
Noah appears at my side and slides his arm around my waist as he kisses me on my cheek. He holds his lips there and whispers that he loves me. He truly does. Either that or he’s trying to wife me up before one of the guys on the team asks me to marry him.
“Where are we getting married?”
“Where my parents did,” Noah tells me. “At six p.m. I’m hoping you’ll meet me there. I’ll be the guy standing at the front, with your brother and my dad by my side, waiting for the love of his life to walk down the aisle with her dad by her side.”
I turn and pull Noah into my arms. “I’ll be there. I promise.”