3. Elle
elle
. . .
6 Weeks Later
T he fanfare at the stadium is something I’ve never seen before. People tailgate. They’re throwing parties in the parking lot, with food, music, and games. Some have televisions set up and they’re watching the pregame. Each time I hear Noah’s name, I block out what the announcer says. I don’t care to hear whether or not they think the Pioneers should be in the Super Bowl or not. They’re here, and that is the only thing that matters. Win or lose, Noah’s dreams of making it to the big game have finally come true.
Nola and I walk around the parking lot, taking in the energetic atmosphere. I’ve been to concerts where the tailgating is a giant party, but not to this extent. Venues normally open the parking lot two, maybe three hours before a concert starts, unless it’s a festival. Still, I’d love to see 4225 West or Sinful Distraction have something like this.
“I’m hungry,” Nola says. My stomach growls loud enough for her to hear. She covers her mouth and cackles. I roll my eyes and pray no one else heard it.
“Thanks.” It’s her fault. Lately, food doesn’t interest me. My mother has picked up on the fact I’ve lost weight and barely eat. I don’t have the heart to tell her or anyone in my family about Ben and what we’re going through. How do I tell my loved ones when I don’t understand myself?
“We can head into the stadium and get something,” I tell her.
“Or we can introduce you to people, tell them who you are, and see what they give us.” Nola waggle’s her eyebrows and she smiles like the Cheshire cat. Nola doesn’t care that she’s intermingled with a famous family, and rarely tells people who she’s engaged to, until she wants something. Even then, she’s joking. She’s never used Quinn’s name to get anything from anyone. She likes to tease though.
“Or we go find my dad and drag him around the parking lot with us.”
Nola’s mouth drops open and she gasps. “Oh my, can you even imagine? We wouldn’t make it past the first row. Of course, if we did this, I’d have to get a bullhorn to let everyone know Harrison James walks among us.”
This time, I laugh. More times than not, my dad and uncles can mingle without anyone realizing who they are, until it’s too late. Of course, there are those super fans who recognize them immediately and alert everyone else to their presence.
“I can’t believe we aren’t sitting in a suite today. Do you think anyone is going to bug Quinn?”
I shake my head. “They haven’t yet,” I point out. “He’s never in a suite when he’s in Portland, neither is Liam. They like to be where the action is.”
“Yeah, true.” Nola sighs. “Truth be told, I don’t want to wait in line for food.”
I laugh at her statement. There are definite perks that come with being who we are or who we are related to. “Tell Peyton, I’m sure she can set something up.”
“You tell her,” Nola says as she bumps her shoulder with mine. “If it comes from you, it won’t seem like I’m looking for handouts.”
“Peyton would never think that of you,” I tell her. “You’re going to be our sister, we love you.”
Nola beams and throws her arms around me. We hug it out for a minute in the middle of the parking lot, with tens of thousands of people surrounding us, and no one knowing who we are. It’s an amazing feeling. I suppose if my hair wasn’t tucked under a ballcap and I had on my Noah Westbury jersey, someone might give us a double take. As is it, everyone is either wearing a Pioneers jersey or one for the other team. It’s nice to blend in.
We make our way to the family entrance and show our passes. Nola grabs my arm and drags me to the family area where there’s food. I lean in and ask in a hushed tone, “Are you pregnant?”
Nola stops dead in her tracks, turns, and looks at me. Her eyes are wide, scared. “Why would you ask such a thing?” she asks in a noticeably clear southern accent. Most of the time, I barely hear it because I’m used to it, and she works hard to speak without a drawl. I actually don’t mind it and think it’s rather cute. It gives her character, and she stands out among the rest of us, which isn’t a bad thing.
“You’re yanking my arm out of the socket for a hotdog.”
“Not just any hotdog, Elle. The hotdog. Ballpark hotdogs are the best.”
“We’re not in a ballpark,” I point out. “We’re in a stadium. What if the hotdog sucks?”
She waves her hand and dismisses me. “Same diff.”
I’m not sure it is, but who am I to argue. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Nola starts to walk, but I stand there. She turns and puts her hands on her hips and juts out her right leg. “I am not pregnant.”
I shrug. “Wouldn’t matter if you were.”
“It would to my parents. Those southern values run deep. My mother harps on me every time we talk about how Quinn and I are living in sin, and how we should be married by now. How no one likes a long engagement. Lord, I could go on and on.”
I close the gap between us and place my hands on her shoulders. For a brief moment I’m about to tell her about Ben, and how he feels the same way, but then I stop, and start to wonder if there’s something wrong with us—Quinn and me—because we’re both engaged but haven’t set wedding dates. Unlike Peyton, who couldn’t walk down the aisle fast enough. I chalk her quickness up to her accident and the fact that she knew she would marry Noah when she was five.
“It’s a new era,” I tell Nola. “We’re allowed to have long engagements.”
“Are we though?”
I honestly don’t know.
After Nola and I stuff ourselves on hotdogs, which I have to admit are pretty damn good, we make our way to our seats. The stands are filling fast now that the opening musical act has finished their melody of hits. As a manager, it troubles me that people opt to forgo opening acts. The artists playing deserve and have earned their time on stage, and it leaves an empty feeling in their stomachs when they look out to the crowd, knowing it’s a sold out showing, and hardly anyone is sitting. You’ll never see it on their faces because they’re grateful for the opportunity to play, but as a manager, it’s irritating.
Nola goes to sit, while I head to the front row and nestle myself between my grandparents. I put my arms around them and pull them to me. Neither protest as I squish them into my sides. When I release them, my grandmother looks at me with a sad smile.
“Why are you sad, Elle?”
How does she know? It’s a stupid question, really, because grandmas know everything. “I’m just tired.” It’s not a lie. Living in a hotel room sucks. I miss my house, my bed, and my Ben. “I’ve been really busy at work. I have two new bands, plus Sinful Distraction is going on tour soon.”
Grandma smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She brushes my hair behind my ear and her fingers rest on my neck for a moment.
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “I promise. It’s exhausting building a business.”
“You need a partner,” Grandpa says loudly. “Tess and I worry about you kids all the time, overextending yourselves. Hire some help.”
“Yes, sir.” I don’t argue with him because there’s no point. Plus, he’s not wrong. I have one assistant, who could probably use an assistant. It’s bad enough I have to replace Ben. In the six weeks we’ve been apart, I’ve gone through two marketing companies and neither of the people they’ve sent over can deliver the way Ben could.
When I hear my mother behind me, I kiss my grandparents on their cheeks and tell them to enjoy the game. It’s not that I don’t want to sit with them, I do, but I want to hold Oliver and if my grandmother gets him first, I won’t stand a chance.
I linger on the steps for a minute because my mom has handed my baby brother to Julius Cunningham’s girlfriend. She bounces Oliver on her legs and makes the same faces I do at him. My mom had a custom jersey made for Oliver, with Westbury on the back. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, aside from Oliver. I can’t take it anymore and head to the aisle where he is and hold my hands out for him. Autumn hands him over and I go sit down.
“I’ve missed you,” I tell him. I rest my feet on the seat in front of me and set Oliver on my legs. He’s wearing shorts and a pair of baby Nikes which match his jersey. “Look at you, being the cutest boy here.”
Oliver coos in response and lets out a small giggle.
I play with his legs, touch his cheek, and love on him until I feel a tap on my shoulder. I look at Oliver and shake my head. “No, we don’t care who’s behind us, do we?”
He smiles. Another tap.
“Who is it, Oliver? Can you tell me?”
When the person behind me clears their throat, I know it’s my sister.
“Oh phooey,” I say to the baby. “Do you want to see that other sister of yours or stay with your favorite.”
“We’re both his favorite,” Peyton says. “Now hand him over.”
I bring him to me and kiss his fat cheeks before handing him to Peyton. I think about joining my mom, but decide to stay where I am. I turn in my seat and touch Oliver’s leg. “Is Noah ready?”
Peyton shrugs. “It’s a big stage. The biggest of his life. He’s as ready as he’s going to be.”
“It’s too bad you can’t sit with us,” Nola says as she leans into my sister and touches Oliver’s cheek.
Peyton smiles and makes some baby noises at Oliver, which earns her a soft coo. “I’m right where I want to be.”
“How’s Uncle Liam? Did you see him before you came out?” I ask my sister.
“No, he and Dad are in the dressing room.”
“Uncle Jimmy is pissed he’s not here,” I add. “Mom said Eden has some huge event in Australia tomorrow, and they had to fly there early to kill the jet lag.”
“Liam said they’re going to livestream the game. Although, it won’t be the same. The atmosphere…” Peyton pauses and looks around. “This is incredible.”
I tap Peyton on her knee. “You’ve earned this too.” I pick up on bits and pieces of Nola’s conversation with Autumn. The poor woman is thoroughly confused by our family dynamic. It’s comical, in a way, but I get it. Peyton likes Autumn, and so do I.
Nola tells Autumn about her chart, and how she had to write everyone down in a journal so she could keep us all straight.
“Yeah, Peyton tried explaining it to me. I just nodded along,” Autumn says as she leans over to look at my sister, who shakes her head.
“I love telling people my sister married my aunt and uncle’s son—that really gets people going.” I can’t help but laugh at my joke. “Their faces are priceless.”
Peyton slaps my shoulder and I pretend it hurts. “You’re a brat. Where’s Ben?”
“He had to work. He’s got a big project.” It’s the same lie I’ve told for the past six weeks.
“A project that couldn’t wait until Monday?”
I shrug, signaling the end of that conversation. Peyton hands Oliver back to me and tells us she will see us later. As soon as she’s on the field with her headset on, everything in the stadium shifts.
It’s time for football.
We stand for the anthem, which my uncle nails. Everyone cheers for him, and some chant his name when he finishes. Noah is there to give his dad a hug, which brings a new wave of emotions from me. I pull my phone out and text Ben: Did you see Noah and Liam hug?
He’s not going to respond. He hasn’t since I left for Christmas. Blue bubble after blue bubble with no response, yet I still text him.
Text after text.
We won the coin toss.
Touchdown
Oh my gosh, so cute! Julius gave his son the football from his touchdown.
OMG we are tied. I can’t take it
I’m not sure Aunt Josie is going to make it through this game in one piece.
Ouch, did you see that hit on Noah?
I really wish you were here. Everyone misses you.
Did you know Eden has a surfing event in Aussie tomorrow . . . or is it tonight? I wonder if it’ll be on ESPN or something.
I think when Liam retires, he’s going to take up coaching. He yells at Noah – A LOT!!
Bianca has a dirty mouth. I swear the officials can hear everything she says. One looked over his shoulder and I think she shrugged at him.
Touchdown!
We’re going to win this game. I wish you were here to see this. Are you at least watching it on TV?
We won, Ben. Noah is a Super Bowl champion.
I put my phone away and celebrate with my family. Noah makes his way to my sister and picks her up. He twirls her around and when he sets her down, he kisses her long and hard. A pang of jealousy hits me. Their love affair is one of a kind; destined to be together from the moment they met. At times, I feel like Ben and I have the same kind relationship, but in reality, I’m alone and no longer with the love of my life. I glance down at my engagement ring and wonder when I’m going to take it off.
Noah and Peyton make their way to the stands. Our parents and grandparents are there to meet them. When my sister makes her way toward me, I start to cry. This moment, and many others, almost didn’t happen. I pull her into my arms and squeeze tightly.
“I’m so damn proud of you, P.”
“We did it. We fucking did it!”
My sister isn’t one to cuss, so for her to drop the f-bomb, I know she’s excited. She’s worked hard to prove herself in the league. A league filled with men. This victory is more than just a win, it’s putting women front and center of a male dominated profession.