136. I Love Atlanta
I LOVE ATLANTA
LIVY
The next handful of weeks flew by.
Layton called the NFL commissioner and asked for a special meeting regarding some expectations around agents and how they’re vetted, and specifically, how to guarantee rookies have the education they need to make informed decisions.
He cited Tingle, Schmidt, and Asses, as we’ve come to call them, and mentioned that he was one of the victims of them suppressing the competition by eliminating it.
We began looking into property to invest some of the proceeds from the sale of his home in Florida.
We went to New York City and met with Excel on a business proposal they’re keen to flesh out in the months and years to come. Tally wasn’t available to see me or to meet Layton. It was a long shot anyway, but I’d held out hope.
I tried my parents a couple of times, hoping to connect. I either got voicemail or a quick, “We’re on our way out the door. Another time?” I stopped after the last one.
Tommy, on the other hand, won’t stop, but Layton has a plan, and it’s worth the annoyance now to enjoy later, so I keep screening and declining the calls.
Finally, we came to Atlanta to see Dr. Jeffrey. She drew blood and did a complete workup. She did it at cost for two reasons. One, we’re paying cash, and two, Layton pulled some strings to get us on the sidelines for tonight’s Monday night football game against Carolina.
“You’re a hell of a negotiator, Mr. Ranger.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. You don’t seem to be a person who sways easily.”
“For my Falcons, I do.”
“Never give away your tell. Did they teach you nothing in med school?”
“I opted out of the poker classes and went straight for gynecology.”
Layton throws up his hands like he’s heard enough, and Elouise laughs. “He’s a keeper, Livy.”
“I’m planning on it.”
My fiancé hasn’t been on the field during game play since the play-offs last year.
“Do you have your gum?” I ask as we walk through the tunnel to watch the pregame.
He taps his front right pocket. “Yep. I’ll be okay, Pix.
First time’s going to be rough for sure.
Second time probably, too, but someone will have to show our boys the sport.
Might as well be me. And I’d rather not have my first game with them at my side.
But I’m not cheering for Atlanta. Or Carolina. ”
Dr. Jeffrey tries to play it cool, but she spends the first half like a kid in a candy store.
“Did you see that? That was pass interference. Come on, refs. Are you blind?” And that’s all while she’s not in the zone, high-fiving players and trying to amp up the crowd, towel in hand.
Just before halftime, I catch her staring at her phone, smiling from ear to ear throwing up a touchdown sign.
There was no touchdown.
“Everything okay?”
“Better than okay, Livy.” She turns the screen to me that has numbers and a plotter graph on it.
“I don’t know what that is.”
“That’s your blood work. Nothing’s changed with the endo, but your eggs? They’re ripe and ready, and nothing I’m reading says you can’t harvest for surrogacy.” She hugs me tight. “Nothing’s a given, but the first hurdle is the biggest, and you’ve cleared it.”
Thank God she’s hugging me because I would’ve collapsed otherwise.
“Hey, Ranger,” she shouts over my head.
The next thing I know, strong arms surround me and carry me through the tunnel to a bench just out of eyesight, where he holds me.
When I’m cried out, Layton sets me on the bench and slides down to one knee and pulls out a small box in iconic robin’s egg blue.
“I’ve already asked, and you’ve already said yes, but you deserve the whole shebang. Livy Morgan, will you marry me?”
“Yes.” Simple and direct, just like the first time.
He pulls a dainty rose gold band with channel set diamonds from the box and slides it onto my finger.
Post-halftime play must’ve resumed because, at that moment, the entire stadium cheers.
We return to the field and share a memory with a friend. She gets her win, and I celebrate my own. “I love Atlanta!” I shout to grumbles and mumbles behind me.
A week later, we gather at Pop’s for Thanksgiving. As is their tradition, now anyway, Emberleigh’s dad and Eli’s mom come. This year, Bean is with us too. I asked her to come for the weekend, and she obliged.
“Let’s not have a repeat of last year, okay?” Pop states as he passes the mashed potatoes.
“You didn’t like me showing you my abs?” Layton asks, to which the table gives a resounding “No.”
“You know what I’m talking about.” Pop cuts his eyes between Elias and Braxton, who, as it turns out, was his college roommate. I need to ask Layton about that story, especially if it was big enough that this year’s meal came with a warning.
Braxton smoked a brisket, and every time he makes a comment about his meat, Emberleigh goes red in the face and runs to the bathroom. There’s some inside joke there, but I must’ve missed it.
They’ve never announced her pregnancy. I’d expected they would on Layton’s birthday, but the day came and went without so much as a peep as did the days and weeks after that.
Her breasts are fuller, and she looks like she’s about to laugh or puke at all times. I know what I’m looking for, though. It seems to have slipped past the others.
Except maybe Willa, who watches intently while Kimpton nestles in his wrap-around contraption. She’s a natural. So is Exton. It’s as if they left the hospital with a full download of gentle, kind, patient parenting skills and started at the top of the curve.
Exton seems not to notice—or care—that anyone else is in the room. His wife and son are the sun, and his orbit is around them.
She catches my eyes. Hers flick to my ring, and her eyebrows rise, but she says nothing. She simply smiles.
“How’s he doing?” I nod at the bump sleeping soundly on her chest. “And how’re you?”
“He’s perfect.” She sighs. “And I’m about ready for a girls’ night out. Do you drink margaritas?”
“I like nearly everything that makes me think it’s summer.”
“Before Christmas, if we can swing it. If not, then between then and New Year’s?”
“Definitely. Speaking of...” I turn to Emberleigh, who’s returned to the table. “How are the plans coming?”
“Fine. I’ve coordinated large events before so this is relatively simple, in comparison. It’s the dress that’s giving me fits.”
“Oh?” Willa says, a glint in her eye.
“I’m sorry,” I offer.
“Off the rack is fine, but alterations are ridiculous. You’d think a simple dress would be easier, but it’s not. Those complicated ones don’t require the same skill because the seams are covered, you know?”
Willa and I nod, but I finally say, “I’m over here nodding, but I have no clue. I hate that it’s an added stressor for you. Anything I can do for you?” I lift a hand between us. “I can’t sew. At all, not even a button. When was the last time you saw me in anything other than athleisure?”
“I figured that was because of your Excel sponsorship.”
“It’s because I’m lazy.”
Layton leans over me. “Congratulations, by the way. I heard you impressed the hell out of them, and they’re a client of yours now.”
She nods. “Yeah. A connection you made for me, so thank you.”
“I was losing them. I didn’t help you at all. You pulled that out and saved my ass too. Honestly, Emberleigh, you’ve saved my ass more times than I can count this year.” He lifts his water glass to her. “Thankful for you, my almost sister-in-law.”
“Glad I could help, soon-to-be-brother-in-law.” She clinks her water glass to his.
“Bright,” I call. “I’m betting a few people here haven’t heard your Dolly Parton story.”
Braxton groans and gives me a look before peering over my head at Layton.
“You sure you want a wild one?” But he winks at me and continues as Bright begins recounting singing on stage with Dolly, “He never did like breaking the stallions. Thought it was against their nature. They need to be free to run.”
A hand wraps around the back of my neck.
“I still do,” Layton says firmly. “We breed in captivity. No need to break.”
The eldest Ranger nods. “You’re not wrong.”
“Braxton, I need to resign.”
His fork clinks to his plate, and his eyes skate between us.
“I’m not quitting on Layton. And I’m not quitting on the family.
I’ve moved here and resigned from my job, for heaven’s sake.
” I lift a hand to my mouth like I’m sharing a secret.
“But I’m sleeping with the client, after all, and your paying me makes that super icky.
So if you’re good with it, here’s my two hours’ notice.
I’ll work indefinitely for free, but I’d like not to take a paycheck. ”
“You drive a hard bargain, Livy, but if you insist…” He extends a hand, and I shake. He looks at his watch. “The best thing I did this year is make a blind phone call to you. You’re a great woman for my brother. I’m glad you’re in our lives.”
Emberleigh clears her throat.
Braxton talks behind his hand like he’s telling me a secret and says, “Okay, you’re the second-best thing I did this year. The best was knocking up Emberleigh.”
It is this exact moment Bright pauses for dramatic effect in her story and everyone waiting with bated breath hears his last words.
“What?” Pop exclaims, dropping his fork.
“Wait!” Mr. Carrington stands from his seat.
“Ha.” Willa smirks, rubbing baby Kimpton’s back.
“Yes.” Exton’s one word counters Bright’s face, the air being sucked out of her story, and then… elation. “Yes!”
Elias rounds the table and takes his longtime friend in a man hug, pounding him on the back. “Congrats, Brax.”
Layton throws his head back and laughs as Emberleigh beelines it for the bathroom.
Again.