Chapter 21
Roman
“See you in LA, Romie,” Coach says in his patented low grumble.
I pat his back as he gives me a bear hug. “We’re gonna take the world by storm, Coach.”
“And we’re gonna have one hell of a good time doing it.”
It’s late afternoon at the golf club. Coach and I just finished playing a life-changing round.
Thanks to what we talked about today, we’re about to become the first coach-quarterback duo to win a college championship and a Super Bowl.
Wait, no. We’ll win back-to-back Super Bowls, just like we won those two championships at Michigan.
“Hardy!” a valet yells with his hand up.
With a parting wink, Coach heads over to his rental car. As I watch him drive away, I feel like the same cocky kid I used to be under his brilliant tutelage—the hotshot with a cannon for an arm who thought the world was his bitch and nothing could keep him from achieving all his big dreams.
I crane my neck to see if my rental car will be the next one coming, but no dice.
Man, I can’t wait to get away from this place and call my family and Cameron—and then, to rush back to the bungalow to take Iris into my arms and tell her the amazing news.
Thank God Iris found out the truth about me yesterday, so I can race back to her now and celebrate.
“Roman Maguire!” a gray-haired guy in a polo shirt booms to my left. “Great to see you again.”
I look at the guy blankly, not recognizing him, so he supplies his name and reminds me we played in a foursome at Pebble Beach last year in a charity tournament.
“Oh, yeah,” I say. “Hey, Frank.” I only vaguely remember him. He’s a CEO of something. But it’s not unusual for people to unilaterally remember meeting me.
“Hey, if you’re free to play here again tomorrow,” the guy says, “I’ve got an eight o’clock tee time that needs a fourth.
” He name-drops the two other guys he’s already playing with tomorrow morning, and they’re both well-known, high-profile billionaires—guys who’d surely be able to give me some great tips on handling my business portfolio.
Normally, I’d accept the invitation. I won’t be playing football forever, so I’m always trying to maximize my knowledge on the business side of things.
But this time, I’m not even tempted. Tomorrow’s my last day with Iris, unfortunately, and I’m not willing to miss out on a single minute with her.
In fact, I’ve planned a spectacular horseback-riding date that’s going to turn Iris into a swooning puddle.
“I’m all booked up tomorrow,” I say. “Maybe another time.”
“Maguire!” a valet calls out.
I say goodbye to the CEO guy, stride to my car, hand a Benjamin to the valet, and practically peel out.
And the minute I make it off the golf club grounds, I turn onto a quiet side street, park my car, and place a FaceTime call to my family: my parents, my brothers, and my cousin, Marco, who pops onto my phone screen with Nicola.
“Well?” my father says. Everyone on this once-in-a-lifetime call knows about my golf game with Coach today, and they’ve been waiting with bated breath for an update.
With my heart thundering, I pause for dramatic effect before shouting, “Coach said yes! I’m going to LA, fam!”
Everyone on my screen cheers and whoops, and I proceed to tell them everything that transpired today and what it all means, based on the verbal assurances Cameron’s already received from the Thunderbolts.
Mom wipes a tear. “I’m so happy for you, honey. And so happy for Maverick, too.”
Luca adds, “Mav’s gonna grow up with his daddy being there, just like Dad was always there for all of us.”
The comment sends a lump into my throat, so I don’t reply. Not verbally, anyway. Surely, my brother and everyone else on the call can see how deeply I’m feeling my brother’s momentous words.
“As your cousin,” Marco says, his voice laced with emotion, “I couldn’t be happier for you. As a football player in the NFL, however, I can’t wait to dog-walk your fucking Thunderbolt ass.”
We all burst out laughing through tears. Marco’s team, the San Francisco Knights, has had a storied, decades-long rivalry with the Thunderbolts.
“You’ve got that backwards, cuz,” I shoot back, as Marco and I share a broad smile.
We chat some more, but only briefly. Soon, I tell the group, “I need to call Cameron now so he doesn’t have an aneurysm waiting on me.”
After another round of kind words—even from Evil Levi, who looks uncharacteristically emotional—we say our final goodbyes.
But after I end the call, I feel the urgent, thumping need to see my son’s face before calling Cameron.
I can’t tell Maverick my good news, obviously.
A four-year-old can’t be trusted with highly confidential information.
Not to mention, Vanessa is always somewhere nearby while I’m talking to him.
But even so, I’m determined to see Maverick’s face and hear his voice as part of my celebration.
I place the call, and after some brief pleasantries with Maverick’s mother, Vanessa, she hands the phone to our son.
The second I see Maverick’s cherubic face, I tear up. “Hey, Mav,” I choke out.
“What’s wrong, Daddy?” Maverick asks, his dark eyebrows cinched together. “Why are you sad?”
A car passes on the quiet street where I’m parked, so I look the other way to hide my face.
“I’m not sad, buddy. I’m happy because I get to see you soon and for the longest time ever.
” Vanessa and her husband, Jay, are going to some big wedding in Europe soon, so they’ve decided to do some traveling from there.
When Vanessa first called to tell me about the trip, it was to inform me she was planning to take Maverick with her, but by the end of the call, I’d convinced her to let me take my son the whole time—six consecutive weeks.
“Can I bring my trains when I come to your house, Daddy?” Maverick asks.
“Jay always plays trains with me before bedtime, and I want to play trains with you, too.” My stomach twists.
Vanessa’s husband, Jay, is a solid, friendly guy who’s fantastic with my kid.
Also, he’s never once disrespected me. Surely, a more mature man would feel nothing but thrilled to know Maverick’s got such a close bond with his stepfather, but if I’m being honest, in addition to me recognizing that’s a good thing for Maverick, I’m also jealous about it for myself.
In fact, every time I think about Jay playing with Maverick or tucking him in at night, I feel like my hair’s on fire and my skin is physically hot with the desire to get to do those things with him, too.
“You don’t need to bring your trains,” I say, “because you’ll have all the trains you could ever want at my house.”
I’m expecting Maverick to express excitement. Maybe even to thank me for wanting to make our time together this summer as fun as possible. But he simply shrugs and says, “Can I go play with Jay again?”
My heart sinks. “Sure. Have fun, buddy. I love you.”
“I love you, Daddy. Bye.”
There’s a shuffle, and a moment later, Vanessa reappears on my screen. “He had so much fun with you and your family in Hawaii. He hasn’t stopped talking about it. How many Hawaiian ices did he have per day?”
I laugh. “Two. He had everyone wrapped around his finger.”
“Please, learn how to say no to him when you have him this summer, or he’s going to become a little monster by the time you return him to me.”
“He’ll be fine.”
Vanessa leans into her camera and whispers, “I saw a photo of you playing golf with Coach Hardy today. What’s that about? Was it a friendly game . . . or something else?”
“Just a friendly game.”
“Is Coach Hardy coming to the Crusaders?”
“It was just a friendly game, Vanessa. Tell Maverick I love him, okay? Tell him I can’t wait to see him next week.”
“I love you, too, Daddyyyyyyyyyy!” Maverick shouts in the background, and that’s all I need to tear up again.
I quickly wrap up with Vanessa and write myself a note to order every conceivable train set that’s age-appropriate for Maverick, once I know where to ship them.
After that, once I’ve composed myself, I start up my rental car, figuring I’ll talk to Cameron as I make the drive back to the bungalow.
Back to Iris. Hopefully, she’s already returned from today’s solo adventure, because all I want to do is take that woman into my arms the second I walk through the front door.
“What’d Coach say?” Cameron shouts maniacally after answering my call.
I cackle with glee. “He’s in.”
Cameron gasps. “In-in? With no caveats?”
“No caveats, other than them paying him what he’s worth. If they do that, he said he’ll sign a deal with the Thunderbolts the day after I do.”
Cameron whoops. “Holy shit, you did it!”
“You think they’ll offer him what he’s worth?”
“And then some. They were practically jizzing in their pants when I floated the idea of you two as a package deal. Oh my God, Roman. How’d you get him to say yes?”
“I just spoke from my heart. I admitted what a shitty time I’ve been having in Baltimore and then segued into painting a picture of how much it would mean to end my career on a team that genuinely values me, in the city where my son lives, with him as my coach.
” I snicker. “And then, when all that failed miserably, I begged.”
Cameron bursts out laughing with me. “Atta boy.”
“Just kidding. I didn’t need to beg him at all. Right off the bat, Coach admitted the chance to coach me again has always been a bucket list item.”
“Hot damn. Let’s get this locked down, ASAP. When can Coach fly to LA for a meeting with the owners?”
“He said he can fly on Monday at the earliest because he’s here with his wife and kids for his anniversary. So, let’s set up a three-way meeting on Tuesday.”
“That’s perfect. This way, we can meet with the owners first—on Sunday or Monday—to finalize your deal. I’ll book a flight for you tomorrow and let them know—”
“No, not tomorrow, Cam. I’m already flying to LA on Sunday to pick up Maverick, remember?”
“You need to come tomorrow, Rome. The internet is already buzzing about you and Coach playing golf today, and we don’t want anything to leak.”
I shift the phone against my ear. “The thing is, I promised Iris I’d take her horseback riding tomorrow, so—”
“Iris?” Cameron bellows. “Please, tell me that was a joke.” When I say nothing, he shouts, “I don’t give a flying fuck what you promised your little vacation plaything.
You’re flying to LA tomorrow to reassure the owners you’re worth over two-hundred-million bucks, and that’s that.
” He proceeds to rant about all the reasons why I need to get my ass to LA, as soon as possible, and I can’t deny he’s making sense.
As bummed as I am to miss out on one last day with Iris, clearly I’m going to need to do exactly that.
I run a palm down my face. “Okay, I’ll change my ticket for tomorrow.”
Cameron exhales a massive breath. “No. I don’t want you flying commercial.
I’ll arrange a private flight so you’re not bombarded at the airport with questions about why you’re flying to LA a day after playing golf with Coach.
The chat boards are already on fire with theories and speculation about what today’s golf game meant—and some of those theories are dead-on accurate. ”
“I’ve got to go,” I murmur, feeling overwhelmed. “I’m pulling in to my hotel.”
After we hang up, I start walking toward the bank of bungalows before me. With each step I take, I try to shake off the disappointment I feel about my earlier-than-planned goodbye tomorrow. Today is the best day of my life, for fuck’s sake. I should be feeling nothing but unadulterated elation.
As I walk, I slap my cheek. Literally. And tell myself to pull it together.
My conversation with Cameron was the reality check I needed.
He’s right. It’s time for me to focus on what matters most—being the best quarterback, teammate, and father I can possibly be—and to forget the silly fantasies I’ve been harboring about Iris possibly being The One.