Callan #2
I nod. “Yep. Rose is the other woman. Billy is the one in the hat, and Jacob is across from him.”
Keeping hold of Charlotte’s hand, I stroll over to the table, leaning over to kiss Nan on the cheek. “Hello, Nan. Rose, Billy, Jacob, good to see you all.”
“Callan, you brought a girl,” Rose gushes, taking in Charlotte. “And she’s such a bright little thing. Look at that orange shirt and those pink pants! That’s my kind of fashion.” She looks down at her own brightly colored dress as if trying to decide whether she could pull off Charlotte’s slacks.
“This is Charlotte, my girlfriend.” The introduction slips from my lips naturally, and I force myself not to read too much into it.
Charlotte offers Rose a large smile. “I’m not sure I could pull off paisley quite like you can.”
Rose pats her dress. “It pisses my son off when I wear things he considers to be ‘gauche.’ He’s coming to visit tonight. I’m usually the height of fashion, just like you.”
Nan remains surprisingly quiet on the subject, usually willing to support Rose in whatever assertions she’s making about herself, true or not. Instead, she watches Charlotte. My mind freezes as her lips turn down slightly. That was not the reaction I was expecting.
“Pull up a few chairs, Callan,” Billy commands, forcing me into motion.
Charlotte helps me pull over the seats from the table next to theirs.
Instead of resuming play like they normally do, everyone has their cards face down on the table and is shifting their chairs with a chorus of loud squeaks, so there is a wide enough gap for Charlotte and me to sit next to each other.
“Solid start to the season,” Jacob notes as Charlotte and I sit down.
Billy grunts. “You almost dropped that one last weekend.”
“But they didn’t,” Nan argues. “That drive with a minute twenty left was beautiful.”
Nan watches every single one of my games, though she tells the world she isn’t a football fan. She continues, her unimpressed gaze floating to take in Charlotte, “I saw you down on the field again, Charlotte. What an interesting decision for an owner to make.”
“I think it’s smart.” Rose offers Charlotte a consoling smile. “You’re a new owner. How else do you learn these things?”
Nan clucks her tongue. “It’s important for people to know where they do and don’t belong. And owners belong in the owners’ box, not down on the field, distracting the players and the coaches.”
“I’m—” Charlotte starts, but Billy cuts her off, “In my day, football was a man’s game. Not saying she can’t do it. I understand times have changed, but those boys aren’t going to start listening to her just because she signs their checks.”
“Guys,” I chastise, taking in the confusion on Charlotte’s face. “Charlotte’s doing an amazing job. And she can be wherever she wants. We’re professional athletes. We’re not distracted by a woman on the field. There are female staff and reporters down there all the time.”
This is not what I prepared her for. I told her they sit here and play bridge or hearts, sometimes gin rummy if not everyone wants to play. She was ready to listen to stories about Rose’s family.
She was not ready to be criticized for her work choices.
She gets enough of that from the media and fan comments these days.
Apparently, it was cute during the preseason, but now that we’re in the regular season, Charlotte needs to step back and let the men who understand the game run the team.
I want to throat punch footballlover214 for that specific comment.
Charlotte shakes her head. “It’s fine, Callan. I understand I’m doing things differently. It’s what I think is best for the team, but people have different perspectives.” Her smile is tight as she looks around the table.
Rose is glaring at both Nan and Billy, but Jacob is completely distracted, his glasses on his nose as he stares at his phone screen.
“Tell Callan about your granddaughter’s visit last week, Rose,” Nan prompts. Rose starts into a long story involving lots of questions about her new bed and whether there is anything else she needs to be more comfortable during her last few years.
“She actually said that!” Rose exclaims. “My last few years! Can you believe it?”
“How long are you planning to live, anyway?” Billy’s gruff question makes it clear he’d be fine if he wasn’t granted that many more.
“More than a few years! I’m going to hold out at least another decade, if for no other reason than to piss my son and daughter-in-law off.”
When there’s a lull in the conversation, Nan turns to Charlotte, “So, Charlotte, are you after your parents’ money as well? Or just Callan’s?”
“Nan,” I say forcefully as Charlotte’s wide-eyed gaze shifts between me and my grandmother. “She’s not after my money.”
“I have no need for your grandson’s money,” Charlotte states.
“So you love him for him, then?” Nan asks. “If he weren’t a football player, you’d be as likely to date him?”
Enough.
“Nan.” It’s harsher this time. “What are you doing?” The grief and confusion on Charlotte’s face make my chest tighten, the desire to pull her into a hug and protect her from the world an overwhelming urge.
“I’m the only family you have, Callan. I’m making sure this woman isn’t a gold digger who’s going to get pregnant and ruin your life.
” I can’t hide my flinch. I know she thinks my parents having me so young ruined my dad’s life, made his irresponsible tendencies become who he was, rather than the man he might’ve turned out to be if not for me, but still.
That’s not who Charlotte is. Even if she wasn’t a Langford.
Not that Nan’s going to take my word for it.
“Charlotte’s family has more money than everyone at this table combined,” I tell Nan. “She’s not here because of my money.”
She’s not here for me, either, but Nan doesn’t need to know I’m a tool to get her what she wants. It might be worse than her being with me for my money.
Billy and Jacob both snort derisively, like I’ve offended them by saying they don’t have as much money as the Langfords.
“I think it’s time to go,” I say, standing up from the table. “Maybe next time we come, you all can remember you’re nice people who don’t go out of their way to say incredibly rude things to others.”
“It’s okay, Callan,” Charlotte starts.
“No,” I disagree as I move our chairs back. “It’s not.” I’m not sure whether I want to laugh at the absurdity of this entire afternoon or start punching walls.
“Here’s your cookies, darling. We’ll see you soon.
” Nan hands me a plate of chocolate chip cookies, the same ones she’s been sending me home with since I moved out of her house for college.
“Charlotte.” Nan simply nods in acknowledgment of Charlotte’s presence, like she didn’t imply that I would be coming back solo next time.
Charlotte gives a strained smile. “It was nice meeting you.”
“Of course,” Nan replies before picking her cards up. “It’s your play, Rose.”
We walk down the stairs and out of the building in silence, Charlotte’s hand cold in mine.
I start the car as Charlotte stares out the window, her body folded in on itself. For the first time, she looks like the small woman she physically is, rather than the force of nature she appears.
“She hates me.” It’s barely more than a whisper, but I can feel it all the way to my bones.
I want to disagree. Tell her she’s wrong.
But I’m not sure she is. The only person I’ve ever seen Nan act like that to is my father, when he showed up five days after I was drafted, claiming to want to be back in my life.
Five hundred dollars was all it took to get him to leave.
He’s increased his asking price since then.
“It’s okay,” I remind her. “It’s all fake, anyway.”