Chapter Fifteen #2
About fifteen minutes later, Saint and Remy walk out with some of his teammates.
We cheer when we see him, and the other parents around us join in.
I can’t express enough how happy I am that Remy seems to be adjusting to the team.
It absolutely helps that Saint encouraged him to keep playing as soon as we got back.
I think the physicality of the sport is also helping him work through some of his emotions.
Like he has an outlet that maybe he needs outside of Saint or me.
Not that it was much of a fight to get him playing again. Remy is obsessed with hockey, and I think he wanted to feel some kind of normalcy to his routine.
“Here he is!” Saint yells, his hands up in the air. “MVP!”
Remy blushes and smiles so wide we can see every tooth in his mouth. He runs up to me and wraps his arms around my waist, and looks up.
“Did you see my goal?” Remy asks.
“Did I see it?! You mean you didn’t hear me screaming from the stands?” I laugh.
Remy giggles. “No, I couldn’t hear anything, and I couldn’t see anything under the pile of my team.”
I ruffle Remy’s hair. “Well, you were amazing out there today, Rem! I’m so proud of you. That goal was amazing! You won the game for your team.”
“I did!” He lifts his brows and nods. “It was close.”
A little boy walks by us and stops.
“Remy, are you coming to get pizza with us?”
Remy looks at Saint, then me. “Um, I don’t know. Can we?” he asks, hopeful.
Saint glances at me first, then at our group. “What do you think, everyone?”
“I’m down with pizza. Babe, you good with that?” Liam has his arm around Alie, and she looks up and nods.
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
Both girls are twirling around, completely oblivious to our conversation, so we wrangle them up and head out.
Fifteen minutes later, we walk into the restaurant, and it’s already full with kids and families. It seemed like every head turned our way when Liam and Saint walked through the door. Especially the fathers.
Once we find a table, the kids crowd around us, hoping to get a close look at Saint and Liam. They’re both used to the attention, so they don’t mind.
“Your uncle is so cool,” I hear one kid whisper to Remy.
I see Remy’s chest puff as much as a seven-year-old’s chest can puff, and he says, “Yeah, I know. He’s the best tackle in the NFL.”
He stumbles a little on the word tackle, and it makes me smile.
Then Aston and Brody walk in, and the noise seems even louder. Because when Aston doesn’t just exist in a room. He takes it over.
“REMY!” he yells with his hands around his mouth.
I look at Remy, who’s as surprised to see Aston as I am.
“My man,” Aston walks over and tries to do a handshake with him. “I’m sorry I missed the game, bud. Tell me all about it.”
Aston glances over at us and nods hello, then leans in and listens to Remy. That’s the thing about Aston. He’s goofy, but he’s really great with kids, and below the humor is a really good, sincere friend.
Brody sits down in one of the empty chairs around our table. “What’s up?”
“How did you guys know we were here?” Saint asks.
“I told them,” Liam pipes up. “Aston called on our way over here.”
One of the kids walks over and stands next to Remy. “Aren’t you—”
“Yes, I’m the favorite,” Aston says immediately.
“You play with Saint and Liam?” another kid asks.
“I do. Are you a Titans fan?”
“I am! Can you sign my shirt?” he nods excitedly.
“Sure can. Do you have a marker?” Aston asks.
“Mom! Can you find me a marker?” the kid yells.
One of the dads walks over to our group. “Hey, all. I’m Mark, Pete’s dad,” he points at a kid who must be Pete. “It’s really great you’re out with the kids. It means a lot to see their heroes in normal settings like this.”
Saint stands and shakes his hand. “Wouldn’t miss it. My nephew scored the winning goal today.” Now it’s Saint’s turn to have a puffed-out chest.
“I know, I saw it. He’s a great kid. We’re lucky to have him on the team.” The dad releases Saint’s hand. “I hate to ask, but is your brother Aiden Griffith?” Mark asks Aston.
Aston smiles and nods. “Yeah, he’s my older brother. You a fan?”
The way this adult man’s face lights up is almost comical. “I’m a huge fan. I’ve followed his career since juniors. He’s a force.”
“That’s awesome. Yeah, he’s the best forward in the league.” Aston says proudly. “What do you think, Remy? Should we call Aiden and see what he’s up to?”
“WHAT?!” Remy and pretty much every other kid in this place shouts. “Yes! You know he’s my favorite player, right?”
“I did hear that,” he says, glancing at Saint, smiling.
Then Aston takes his phone out of his pocket and dials—I assume, his brother—and puts it on speaker.
“What’d you do?” Aiden answers.
Aston laughs. “I’m the good twin, what are you talking about?”
“Right. What’s up?” he asks. “Why is it so loud? You in a club or somethin’?”
“No. Saint’s nephew, Remy, had a hockey game today, and he scored the winning goal, so we’re out celebrating with pizza. I thought, since you’re his favorite player, that you could say hi to him and congratulate the team on their win.”
Aiden laughs in a way that I can’t tell if he’s irritated or not. “Yeah, of course.”
“Let’s do one better. I’ll FaceTime you,” Aston says, hanging up before Aiden can reply.
Aston’s phone is tilted just enough that I can see Aiden answer, smiling and looking relaxed on a couch.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice as parents and kids alike take out their phones and point them in Aston’s direction.
“Hey.” Aston smiles. “Talk to these future legends.”
Aiden leans in closer to the camera. “Hey guys, what’s up?”
Remy looks like he might pass out, but waves.
“You’re Remy, right?” Aiden asks.
Remy nods.
“You scored the winning goal today, huh?” Aiden smiles and nods.
“Yeah,” Remy barely squeaks out.
It’s funny because his uncle is famous and really is one of the best in the league. He’ll likely be inducted into the Hall of Fame someday, but Aiden Griffith has him tongue-tied.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Aiden says. “Keep working hard, and maybe I’ll get to play with you someday.”
“You will?” Remy asks, and his friends around him jump up and down.
“If you work real hard,” he adds, “I’ll come see one of your games. Have your uncle send me your schedule, or my brother can.”
Remy actually freezes. Like his brain has shut down.
Saint laughs beside him, clapping his shoulder.
“Guess you better keep playing now,” he says.
Remy nods like it’s the most serious commitment of his seven-year-old life.
“I gotta run, but you guys go celly that win,” Aiden points at the camera. “Aston, call me later.”
“Thanks, brother,” Aston says, then disconnects.
“Thanks for doing that,” Saint says.
“Of course. He’s really chill. If it was Ace or Austin … I might be a little more cautious,” he laughs.
I don’t know the other Griffiths that well, other than the times I’ve seen them at my sister’s, on the field, or on TV. But they all seem like a good time. Maybe we will meet them all one day.
Pizzas arrive at our table, and the kids start reaching for pieces, but Saint stops them.
“Hold up. Has everyone washed their hands?” He raises a brow.
About half the team marches to the restroom.
We get the kids in our group slices, and they dive in like savages. Although Aston and Brody aren’t much better. I swear I see Brody eat a slice in one bite. I’ll let it go since it’s the off-season and their diet is a little more flexible right now.
And throughout dinner, I’m watching Saint.
Not blatantly obvious. Hopefully, in a way no one else would notice.
But I see a shift in him.
The way he’s laughing and leaning into the excitement. He seems more relaxed too.
It’s the first time since Savannah died that he looks…alive. Definitely not healed, but he’s present.
I feel something inside me settle, because I can see it all now. Much clearer than before. What we could be. And what would we be if I say yes.
Marriage.
It might not be in the romantic way I imagined. It’s not easy or simple.
And then I think about the rules of the pact: no loopholes, no take-backs, no excuses.
I practically choke on my drink when I think about everything we agreed to.
One standing out in particular.
Orgasms.
I look at Saint and watch as he laughs with Remy, completely unaware of where my thoughts just went.
God help me.
An hour and a half later, we’re home and trying to get the kids settled down. Alie and Liam left the restaurant before we did, because Sera was falling asleep with pizza hanging out of her mouth. Aston and Brody left at the same time as us.
I watch him help the kids get ready for bed, and something becomes very clear.
I want him.
Not just physically or emotionally.
And not someday.
Now.
Completely.
I want to say yes.
Because this messy, complicated life built out of grief and love doesn’t scare me as much as the idea of walking away from him does.
And for the first time since he asked me to marry him, I’m not thinking about what could go wrong.
I’m thinking about how it feels so right.