33. Winona #2
“That’s the only gift I want,” he says.
He glances toward the front door.
“Declan, forget about the people trying to intrude.”
“It’s hard to forget when I have to stand by and watch it take a toll on you.”
I don’t know what to say to that. He’s not wrong. Living with people stalking my house and saying awful things about me online has been hard. I just don’t want them to win. I want this first Christmas to be magical—one we’ll remember forever.
Declan opens my next gift. It’s a framed photo of us together. One he didn't know I took.
“If you need more photos of us, there are a number to choose from now,” I joke.
“Not funny,” he says.
“It’s a little funny.”
His next gift to me is in a medium-sized box. I open it and gasp. “A snorkel?”
“To use in St. Thomas.”
I stand and throw my arms around his neck. He tugs me onto his lap and kisses me.
We spend the rest of the afternoon together, snuggled up by the fire.
When I drive out of Declan’s neighborhood, no one is following me.
But when I pull up in front of my home, a few cars I don’t recognize are out front.
I tell myself they’re here for the neighbors. But then I see a man with a camera.
I don’t call Declan. What’s he going to do?
I step out of my car, walking quickly toward my porch.
A different man—one I didn’t see at first—follows me up the walkway and up the steps to our front door.
“Winona, is it true you started dating Declan while he was still your patient?”
I fish for my keys. My heart is racing. I’m avoiding looking at the man. I don’t answer him. That’s what Kate said to do.
I gasp out a “No comment,” and the door swings open. Cass looks like she’s ready to rip someone’s head clear off their body.
“It’s Christmas Day!” she shouts. “Do you people have no sense of decency?”
She steps in front of me, using her body both as a shield and a sort of bulldozer, pushing me over the threshold and slamming the door shut in the man’s face.
I pull my cell out of my purse without a second thought and dial Declan. My hands are shaking.
“I’m safe,” I say as soon as he answers.
“What do you mean, you’re safe? What happened?”
“Nothing much. I was followed home. There are a few paparazzi here. One got a bit ambitious and walked right up onto the porch with me, asking me questions and snapping pictures.”
Declan practically roars. “He what?”
“Don’t worry. I’m inside now. I wasn’t even going to call. You need to focus on resting and staying strong for Sunday.”
“I’m glad you called. Do you want me to come over?”
“No. I’m fine. Cass went all mama bear on steroids on them. She’s a force when someone messes with someone she loves.”
“Good. I’ve got all the respect in the world for your sister.”
“I’m definitely not telling her that. She’d probably have a T-shirt made that says Declan O’Connell Respects Me.”
“Ordering it now!” Cass shouts from the kitchen.
She comes out holding a mug of tea.
I take it from her and tell Declan I’m fine. After reassuring him twice, we hang up.
Three days later, Declan has his first game back on the field. He’s on a limited snap count which means he won’t play the whole game, but he’s finally back. We’re playing the Washington Commanders and I’m sitting in the stands, wearing the jersey I gave him for Christmas.
Cass and I find our seats. I scoot past people and settle into the folding chair, placing my soda by my feet.
When I sit up, the woman next to me says, “Hey, aren’t you Declan O’Connell’s girlfriend?”
I smile and say, “Yes.”
She turns to the woman next to her and says, “It’s her.”
“Who?” her friend asks.
“Plain Jane.”
“The gold digger?”
People around us start to whisper and take their phones out.
It takes a second for Cass to catch on to what’s happening and then she’s on her feet.
“Sit down,” I tell her, but my voice isn’t as strong as usual.
“Put your phones away!” she says. She points at a guy down at the end of the next row. “That means you too!”
“Cass, sit down,” I say again.
Phone cameras flash. I tug on Cass’s jersey. She sits.
“This is nuts, Win.”
“It is what it is. I’m not leaving,” I whisper to her. “I’m here for Declan.”
“If you’re here, I’m here. Maybe we should plan to sit with the WAGs next time.”
“The wags?” I ask, trying to picture what a wag has to do with Thunder. If they had an animal mascot … Nope. I still wouldn’t see what the animal’s tail had to do with where we’d sit.
“The wives and girlfriends of players,” Cass explains. “W-A-Gs. They sit in a special box.”
“Oh, yeah. Maybe.”
I ignore the stares and photos being taken of me the rest of the game, focusing on Declan when he’s on the field. The Thunder win. Declan made some great plays. My happiness for him almost overshadows the sick feeling I have from the interactions with fans throughout the game.
I stick around to congratulate Declan, using the pass he gave me to wait in the family room. I sink into a chair, avoiding eye contact and pulling up my Kindle app on my phone. Usually I’m more sociable, but after today, I just want to see Declan and leave.
About an hour and a half after the game, players start filtering into the family room.
I know the moment Declan walks through the door.
Something in me always senses when he’s nearby.
I stand, taking him in—freshly showered and wearing a Thunder hoodie and joggers.
He’s so gorgeous. His eyes catch mine and he strides over to me. I wrap my arms around him.
“Congratulations,” I say. “You played so well. How do you feel?”
“I feel like I could take on the world. It felt amazing to be back on the field.”
He leans in and kisses me.
I don’t tell him about the stands and how the people around me treated me.
When we step out of the family room together, reporters swarm around us, shouting questions and shooting more photos.
Declan bends in and whispers in my ear, “Do you want to come to my place?”
“Maybe later,” I whisper back to him. “I’m really wiped out.”
He nods. We walk together to my car. A few aggressive reporters follow us at a distance. Declan kisses me goodbye and I climb into the driver’s seat, promising him I’ll call before bedtime.
By the time I get home, I’m exhausted.
“Want dinner?” Cass asks.
“I’m feeling exhausted. I’ll eat later.” I head up to my room before she can interrogate me.
When I reach my room, I shut the door and fall onto the bed.
The toll of all the harassment hits me in an instant and the dam breaks. I sob into my pillow.
I can take the heckling.
I can even take being stalked by the photographers.
It’s just … everything. And not knowing when it will end.
One thought circles in my mind. Declan’s probably right. Even when this passes, there will be other storms. The media will not tire of picking at us.
I’m going to have to grow some thicker skin.
I will, because Declan is worth it.