Jett
“Yo mama's like a Christmas tree—everyone puts their balls all over her,” Daylen’s father loudly announces at the small restaurant in which we’re having the rehearsal dinner.
Here’s what I’ve learned about Daylen and his father, Hank.
They’re the same fucking person. Hank is thirty years older and has a big belly, but they’re otherwise the same.
They’re loud and love to be the center of attention.
They’re also giant teddy bears with magnetic personalities and permanent smiles plastered to their faces.
I hope Kennedy likes him because I can see her future in Hank.
Though I think she does because she and Hank seem close.
Apparently he’s known about the pregnancy since the summer.
I was the only one in the dark. He’s as excited as a malnourished tick at a nudist colony.
He keeps touching her stomach and singing to it.
He’s talking about staying with them for a few weeks when the baby comes.
I’ve never seen anyone so excited about their son accidentally impregnating someone he didn’t even like at the time.
I’m still coming to terms with their relationship, though I’ll admit Daylen tends to every single one of Kennedy’s needs.
He coddles her. Not only does it shock me to see him like this, but I can’t believe how much she relishes it.
Even though Kennedy and Daylen are already legally married, they’re hosting a small ceremony and reception tomorrow. We played on Thursday night this week, so we don’t have a game this weekend. That’s why they chose it.
Tonight is just the immediate family, meaning the annoyingly happy couple, me, Pierce, Hank, his much younger wife, Ashleigh, and Daylen’s sister, Jagger.
Jagger is a year younger than Pierce, who seems smitten.
I learned they met at Daylen’s house this summer and seemingly struck up a friendship.
I’ve never seen Pierce flirt the way he does with her.
I get the appeal—she’s a pretty girl with wild blonde, curly hair—but the kid has no chill.
Who am I to pass judgment on dating? I’m a failure in that regard.
Apparently, yo mama jokes are a family tradition between Daylen and Hank, where they trade barbs until the other laughs, something they started after Daylen lost his mom as a way to cheer each other up.
They’ve been at it for ten minutes with neither of them cracking a smile, even though some of the jokes are a little funny.
I’ve never seen Kennedy smile as much as she is tonight.
She’s got this inner glow I’m not sure I’ve ever seen in my daughter.
It’s like the weight she’s always carried no longer exists.
She’s very obviously excited for their future.
Daylen stares at his father. “Yo mama is like a gas station—you pay, she pumps.”
Everyone else at the table laughs, but Hank doesn’t so much as flinch. He licks his lips. “Yo mama is so stupid—she got fired from a blow job.”
Daylen tries to swallow it down, but he fails as he starts laughing in a manner I’m confident will clear out the restaurant. This is by far the loudest table here.
Hank pumps his fist in triumph before raising his arms in the air. “I’m the master,” he shouts as if there aren’t fifty other patrons nearby.
Daylen nods in agreement with a giant grin on his face. “You certainly are, big guy. Grandpa Hank,” he smiles.
Hank leans over and kisses his wife’s cheek. “How ’bout some sugar for the big winner?”
She giggles as she turns and kisses him on the lips, with him pulling her close and deepening it.
Jagger rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Not again. Cut it out, you two. Get a room.”
Hank winks as he pulls away. “I got one. With soundproof walls.” He points to Ashleigh. “This one’s a screamer.”
Jagger covers her face. “Ohmigod, Dad, cut it out.”
Hank chuckles. He’s officially the happiest motherfucker on the planet.
I think I’m jealous. I wish I was happy.
I wish Fallon was next to me tonight. I could be kissing her.
I could be touching her. I could be making her scream through soundproof walls.
But no, I’m the fucking idiot who lost the love of his life.
My seven-week self-pity party has only gotten worse since Tanner left my house the other day.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I’ll beg her to take me back.
In a private area, out of the view of the guests, I take Kennedy’s hand and kiss her cheek. “You’re a beautiful bride, sweetie. A vision in white.”
She points to her stomach, which has popped an unbelievable amount in the past month. “I think the bride already had the white fucked out of her.”
I briefly close my eyes. “Even on your wedding day? Do you need to talk like that?”
She gives me her mischievous smile. “Every day, Dad. I know how much you love it,” she jokes before her face turns more serious. “Are you nervous about seeing her?”
I swallow. “Don’t worry about me today. Worry about the buffoon you’re marrying...again.”
She crosses her arms. “Stop calling him that. He makes me happy. You must see it.”
I can’t argue with that. I’ve never seen Kennedy as happy as she’s been since I found out about the two of them.
I hate to admit it, but they’re very good together.
They’re supportive and encouraging. He was her biggest cheerleader at the victory parade, and she’s now constantly featured on the big screen at our games as she cheers him on.
They cohabitate well and miss each other when they’re apart. He’s always searching for her at our games, finding her in whatever suite she’s in and making stupid heart gestures with his hands.
They already act like a team. And they agree on everything. Every little thing. From having the wedding in this rooftop restaurant in a Philly skyscraper, to the invitees, to what they would each wear. It’s…seamless. Effortless. It’s like living in the damn Twilight Zone.
She’s wearing a long, silky, white dress. I think it’s a bit too revealing on the top, but she said Daylen prefers that. I bet that fucking pervert does. I still struggle with the thought of him touching her—and he never stops touching her—but I’m doing my best to manage my emotions for her sake.
Getting to know them as a couple and this wedding have been good distractions from what has been the worst time in my life.
I’ve also completely thrown myself into my job.
If it wasn’t for Kennedy and Daylen, I’d have no life outside coaching because free time is the worst for me.
I think about her and what I’m missing. My evenings and my bed are lonely.
I’ve slept on my sofa in my stadium office more nights in the past seven weeks than the entire rest of my coaching career.
I can’t stand sleeping in a bed without her.
I got a glimpse into how happy my life could be, only to have it taken away. It would have been better not to have had it in the first place because now I know how perfect things could be for me. Self-loathing is practically my middle name. I’m so pathetic.
She nibbles nervously on her lower lip. “I’m ready, Dad.”
I take a deep breath before offering her my arm. The curtain is pulled back, and we begin our walk down the aisle. I need to stay present. I’m pretty sure this whole ceremony is just for me, given that they’re already married. She knew how devastated I was not to walk her down the aisle.
I’m two steps in when I sense her eyes on me. It’s a warm blanket after seven weeks of bitter coldness.
Because we’re two halves of a whole, in a sea of several dozen people, my eyes immediately find Fallon’s. Hers fill with tears, as do mine. It feels like a knife to my heart all over again. Like it all went down yesterday.
My heart starts beating fast. She’s all I see. The pull to her is so damn strong. And she’s in a red dress. She knows how much I love her in red.
She looks skinnier. I hate it. I’ve lost weight too. It’s hard to eat with a broken heart. Everything loses taste. Everything loses meaning.
Kennedy whispers, “Keep it together,” so I do. For thirty minutes, I focus on them and their vows, around half of which are appropriate.
When it’s over, they kiss in the manner you’d expect from the two of them.
It’s completely over the top and garners catcalls and whistles.
The only thing I can think of is that Fallon and I should have been engaged by now.
This could have been our wedding. I should be kissing her in a manner that makes everyone uncomfortable.
I should be feeling Fallon up the way this fuckwit is doing to my daughter in mixed company.
The weekend we were supposed to go to Napa was the worst of them all. I sat in my home theater and watched our home video from the night in the gym on repeat for forty-eight straight hours.
As soon as the reception begins, I search for Fallon. I need to talk to her. I need to make this right.
My eyes scan the room for the lady in red, and they find her within seconds. It’s like everyone else fades away as I float toward her, meeting her expressionless, blank face. I’m used to her smiling when she sees me. Seeing her downturned lips is like a punch to the gut.
“Can we talk?” I beg.
Her lips quiver as she pushes them together and nods. She looks so unhappy. She’s always been such a happy person.
I motion my hand toward a private area, and she leads the way until we’re out of view from the others, where she turns toward me and coldly instructs, “Say what you need to say.”
I take a few calming breaths. “Why didn’t you tell me the whole story about that guy?”
Her eyes widen. “Are you fucking kidding me? You didn’t give me the chance to explain anything. You just left abruptly and ghosted me like a spoiled brat. We’re adults. We were in love. You owed me the chance to explain.”
I nod. “You’re right. I did. But why didn’t you tell me earlier in our relationship? I thought we knew everything about each other.”