August 28th
My last time.
Ainsley
Yesterday, I got up early with Damon and had a teary goodbye because I wasn’t ready to leave him. Normally, that isn’t something I would cry over, but just looking at his handsome face and thinking about the fact that I was carrying his baby really hit me. At a slightly inopportune time.
And I feel bad because it made him a little teary too.
It’s then that he told me that it was okay that I wasn’t going to be at his game because he wasn’t named a starter. I could tell it pained him. But he put a smile on his face and told me that he hoped he’d get some playing time so he could prove himself.
I wished him luck. And he pulled up his sweatpants leg and showed me he was wearing the socks.
Since I was up anyway, I ate one of Dani’s waffles and some bacon and hit the road.
Sammy wasn’t here when I arrived home three and a half hours later, so I unpacked, went shopping, got organized, and went to bed early.
Sammy isn’t here when I get up either, but I do see a text from last night, saying that he wouldn’t be. I have a leisurely morning, then get ready and go to the campus bookstore to buy my books and new school supplies.
Buying new school supplies is something I’ve always loved, and as I put them in my backpack when I get home, it hits me that it’s my last time doing this.
I put my hand across my abdomen and realize the next time I do it will be when our baby starts school.
Which makes me cry. Imagining how I will feel. I’ve spent a lot of time with my nieces and nephews. Babysat a lot when I was a teen and then again while working at the resort. I’ve always loved kids.
But this is Damon’s baby. Our baby. And someday, they will go to school.
I’m sort of bawling when Sammy bursts through the door.
“What’s wrong?” he immediately says.
I wipe my tears. “Nothing. I’m just … packing my backpack with school supplies for the first day of school for the very last time.”
He sits down on the seat next to me with a thud. “Wow. You’re right. I always loved going to buy new pencils and paper. I was a big doodler. No surprise. And I’d go through paper so fast. In fact, that’s how I studied. I took notes. Then rewrote them to prep for exams.”
“You are a very visual person,” I tell him.
“And you should see who I feasted my eyes—and other body parts—on last night,” he says. “New guy. Hot. Not as hot as Apollo, of course, but very fine.”
“I figured you were out whoring around when you didn’t come home last night.”
“I texted you last night. You know exactly why I didn’t come home,” he counters.
“I went to bed early.”
“You went to bed at eight?” He gets a wide grin. “I take it, Damon wore you out. Oh, tell me about your time there. I need all the details.”
I laugh. “You’re not getting all the details, but I’m going to text you a link to a video.
I watched it with his sister, and she explained what Damon does all day at the football facilities, which are so well designed.
And I feel like I have such a better understanding.
Like, when he says he’s up at five thirty and home at nine and goes to bed shortly after, he’s not joking.
And I see why he’s tired. Why sleep is so important. I know all the things!”
“That’s really good, Ains. And I’ll watch it. Just like I’m going to watch the game with you tonight. I’ve been feeling like I’m in a rut with my game-day snacks, so I’ve been collecting recipes … well, since I met Damon. I’ve been inspired.”
“To eat junk food?” I tease.
“No, everything I want to make is super high in protein. And starting today, I’m cutting out alcohol. I went to the gym this morning with the new guy.”
“What’s his name?”
Sammy waves his hand through the air. “It doesn’t really matter.”
“Not seeing him again?”
He shrugs. “Who knows? Plus, you and I are going to work out together, right? Get in great shape?”
“That’s the plan,” I tell him.
Which is almost comical. While I am going to continue to work out during my pregnancy, I know that while Sammy slims down, I’ll be getting … well, I’ll be growing a baby.
“I can’t believe it’s already opening weekend for football. Did you watch any of K-State’s home opener last night?”
“Uh, no. Totally forgot about it.”
“But we’re still going to games together this season?” he asks. “Like when you’re home.”
“Yes, we are. In fact, maybe you should come to a game in Lincoln with me.”
“I thought you’d never ask! Of course, I was going to invite myself at some point.”
I chuckle. “Okay, so while you cook, I’m going to take a nap. Otherwise, I’ll never be able to stay awake for the whole game. I wish it didn’t start so late.”
“It starts at eight,” Sammy says, studying me curiously.
“Fine, I had a lot of fun with Damon this weekend and need to catch up on my sleep. Is that what you want to hear?”
“For goodness’ sake, yes. Thank you! Have a good nap.
I’ll wake you up at seven so we can watch the pregame.
Which should be fun. The game is at a pro stadium, not at the school’s stadium.
In theory, a neutral location, but not really.
And some big celebrities will be there. You know who I’m talking about. ”
“I do,” I say, then head to my bedroom and lie down.
Just as I do, I get a text.
Damon: At the stadium. Just wanted to say hi.
Me: Hi. Are you doing okay? Part of me wants to say I’m sorry you’re not starting, but no. Just like meeting me, this is part of your life journey.
Damon: My dad says I’m supposed to learn a lesson from this, but didn’t tell me what lesson. And I have no clue.
Me: I’m not going to say work harder because I know you give your all in everything you do. Maybe you’re supposed to learn patience. Good-things-come-to-those-who-wait sort of thing.
Damon: I already learned that lesson. I waited three years for you.
Me: And what a moment that was. It went from nothing to greatness in just a few weeks. You will too.
Damon: You think?
Me: Yeah, I do.
Damon: You watching the game?
Me: Sammy is making us snacks, and we both are. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Speaking of that, I know your families always come for games and stuff, but is there any chance Sammy could come up one weekend, see a game, watch you play?
Damon: I’d love that. Actually, Daine’s concert in Lincoln is September 17th. Why don’t we plan for that weekend?
Me: That would be really fun.
Damon: Okay. Love you.
Me: Love you too.
I close my eyes, feeling happy.
Sammy wakes me up. I put on a Nebraska shirt that I stole from Damon for good luck and go sit in front of the TV.
“On tonight’s menu is jalapeno poppers; buffalo wing chicken tenders, coated in Parmesan cheese; homemade potato chips, fried in beef tallow; homemade ranch dip; and for dessert, a chocolate mousse, made healthy with avocado,” Sammy says with a flourish.
“It all looks amazing. And not healthy.”
“It’s all about the protein and lack of carbs and sugar, girl.”
“I love it. I’ll go grab some water real quick.”
“Oh, I almost forgot!” he says, rushing to the fridge and bringing back a new thermal pitcher with a football on it and two martini glasses. “I made us mocktails! A mocktail mule, to be exact.”
He pours us each a glass, and then he holds his up. “To victory and Damon having a good game.”
“I don’t think he’s going to play tonight. He is, like, fifth on the depth chart. So, unless they’re up by a bunch—”
“But he’s a five-star recruit!”
“I know. I don’t understand it. He doesn’t either. It should be an interesting game.”
It is.
And not in a good way.
The offense struggles.
It’s not that Chase is playing poorly—more that the offensive line is. The defenders keep getting through, and Chase is constantly under pressure—either running for his life or getting sacked.
And when he has managed to throw the ball, the receivers are … just off. Like it just hits their hands. There is a lot of punting on both sides. Three-and-outs.
With just thirty seconds left in the game, we’re up six to three.
The other team gets another first down, putting the ball at the sixteen-yard line with enough time for them to score.
On their first down, they run the ball, but fortunately, the defense holds them to just two yards.
On the second play, they give the quarterback just enough time to throw the ball toward the end zone for a game-winning touchdown.
And it’s a beautifully thrown ball, headed straight for their open receiver, who’s literally standing in the end zone, waiting for it.
“We’re going to lose,” Sammy says, but then suddenly, one of our players flies across the field and grabs the ball out of the air.
“Interception!” Sammy yells, standing up. “We win!”
I jump up with him, and we hold hands and do a little happy dance.
“It wasn’t pretty,” I say.
“A win is a win,” Sammy counters.
I can’t help but think the win would have been bigger if they’d let Damon play.
I wonder why they wouldn’t put their five-star recruit out there, but then I realize that a famous quarterback’s son who was highly touted has been sitting on the bench for two years, coming into games only occasionally, waiting for his time.
And I can’t imagine Damon being willing to wait that long.
He texts me just as I’m getting into bed.
Damon: What are you wearing?
Me: Honestly, a workout shirt that I might have stolen from you.
Damon: That makes me smile.
Me: Rough game. But a win is a win, right?
Damon: It was hard to watch and not be able to do anything about it.
Me: I bet it was.
Damon: To be honest, it pisses me off. I’ve never had to deal with this. With not being the best.
Me: Not even your freshman year of high school?
Damon: When you get on ESPN as an eighth grader who almost won a high-school state championship playoff game, you start the next year.
Me: True. I love you. And I know you will play. Soon. Just keep working hard.
Damon: Love you too, Champ. And I guess if I’m going to be with someone named Champ, I’d better become one myself too.
Me: Exactly!