30. Chapter 30
“ H ow’s Dad life?” Quinton asks.
“Tell me it gets easier.”
Q laughs on the other end of the call. “Define easier. Will you all start sleeping longer? Sure, then Lennon hits a regression or starts teething. Eventually, it gets easier…until something else happens.”
I groan, cradling the phone between my ear and shoulder while I walk to the property’s gym.
This morning, I got a later start than usual.
A pretty blue-eyed cutie kept me awake for most of the night, but I’m not complaining.
Our late-night chats are my favorite, and the late start gave me a chance to call Q on his way to the stadium for his morning workout.
“That’s reassuring, man.”
He chuckles. “It’s the best, though. I wouldn’t trade a second of the worst nights with Cleo. Girl has me wrapped around her tiny finger, and my wife won’t stop buying her custom clothes for games.”
“I should get Lennon a little something for game days.”
“Call Macy. She hooks Wilder up with so much shit.” Macy Miller, soon to be Carlton, is a friend of Brynn’s.
We all ran around together for a while at CTU before she moved in with her boyfriend.
After graduation, the two of them moved to the East Coast for her fiancé’s golf career, and she opened a boutique where she makes unique sports pieces.
“I’ll text her later today.” I sit on a bench outside the gym. The air is sticky, but I’m not ready to get off the phone. “So how’s life with a, what, nine-month-old and the league?”
“Busy as fuck. But good,” he says. “It’s weird that people are buying jerseys with my name on the back and wanting to know all about my life.”
“Yeah, but you had that in college,” I argue.
“Not like this. The women waiting in the hotel lobbies, the fans screaming your name. It’s chaos, no matter where I’m at.”
“Fuck that. How does the most jealous woman in the world handle your name being called by other women?”
He bursts out laughing. “For every woman who screams my name, she demands an orgasm.”
I snort a laugh. “Sounds like Brynn.”
“And those women don’t matter. They only want clout. I don’t spare them a glance because all I see is Wilder, and there’s not a damn thing I would do to risk losing her and Cleo.” There’s a small pause as everything sinks in. “You think about it much?”
“Playing in the league?”
“Yeah. Ever regret not giving it a shot before going straight into coaching?”
I scrub a hand down my face, my mind drifting back: seeing Savannah at graduation, spotting her outside the Chinese restaurant, then having her move in with me, marrying her, becoming a dad.
“Fuck no,” I say without hesitation. “Coaching’s always been my dream. Sure, it might’ve been neat to give the NFL a shot, but I would’ve missed this. Missed a second chance at us .”
Q exhales. “Goddamn. I never thought I’d see the day when my broody best friend would turn into a softy.”
“Fuck off.”
“Nah, man. Having a daughter, shit changes you.”
“That it does. You and the fam still visiting at the end of the month?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Wilder can’t wait for Cleo to meet her new bestie.”
“Dear lord. My daughter's best friends with a mini-Brynn Wilder.”
Q barks a laugh. “Who would’ve thought?”
I think of all the times I gave Brynn hell for her immaturity and reckless behavior.
And now I’m married to one of her closest friends, raising a daughter who will grow up with Brynn’s daughter as a close friend—even though we’re hundreds of miles apart.
It’s a full-circle moment. One that terrifies me, because I know the kind of trouble their mothers have gotten into over the years.
Quinton still has the broken coffee table as evidence of their shenanigans.
We hung up after a few more minutes when Q pulled into the parking lot. I sit against the bench for a second longer before heading inside to work my muscles. His question lingers. Ever regret not giving it a shot before going straight into coaching?
Not for a damn second.
The smell of freshly baked sweets greets us as Sav, Lennon, and I walk through my parents' front door. If I had to guess, Mom made her special chocolate chip cookies, which is just the recipe from the back of the chocolate morsels, but I’ll let her keep her secret.
Savannah was quiet the whole drive. Her head rested against the window, and she claimed she had a headache. As much as I want to believe her, she just seems off . It’s the kind of mood shift that hazard lights flashing above her head are telling me to trust my gut on this one.
I carry the car seat deeper into the house with a sleeping Lennon as I place a hand on Sav’s lower back, guiding her beside me. Her blue eyes look at me, and they’re dull, almost lifeless. She’s here, but not here .
Leaning down, I press a kiss to her temple. “Love you, Peach.”
She gives me a soft, barely-there smile. I don’t have a chance to press matters before Mom comes around the corner.
“There’s my beautiful daughter and my sweet grandbaby!” Mom envelops Savannah in a hug, catching Sav off guard. Pulling away, my mom bends down, resting her hands on her knees as she admires my little Lemon.
“She’s so beautiful, Savannah,” Mom gushes.
“Thank you, Mrs. Campbell.”
Mom gives Sav a look and gently taps her arm. “Please, you know to call me Emily.”
Savannah nods, and I shift the car seat to my other hand. “Would you like to hold her?”
“Would I? Kids, if I ever decline, send me straight to the nursing home. I’d love to hold my grandbaby.”
Mom scoops Lennon up, cradling her like she’s made of glass, cooing in baby talk— the worst —before leading her toward the recliner. Dad steps in through the patio doors, smiling at us before glancing over at his wife. A gentle smile warms his face as he admires his wife and our daughter.
My dad might be a tough sonofabitch on the football field, but I’ve never seen a grown man cry the way he did when he met his granddaughter.
We’ve been in this stuffy hospital room for nearly two days.
Settling deeper into the padded rocker, my daughter’s soft breath fans across my chest. She’s nestled in her Velcro swaddle like a baby burrito, a soft cap covering her light brown hair.
It feels like she’s anchoring herself to me in the same way I need her.
The harsh hospital lights are off as the afternoon sun streams through the semi-closed blinds. Behind me, Sav is in bed, her face swollen, but peaceful as she drifts in and out of consciousness. My beautiful wife is thoroughly exhausted and deserves every moment of peace she can get.
I can’t stop staring at them both. My two girls. My whole world.
A soft knock breaks the stillness. Glancing toward the door, expecting another nurse to come in and disrupt Savannah, I’m taken aback by the sight of my parents.
My mom’s face fills the open space between the door and the wall. She clutches a giant gift bag in one hand as she steps inside slowly. Her eyes sweep over the room before landing on the bundle of pink in my arms, and she visibly swoons.
“Hey,” I whisper.
Mom glances over to where Sav is sliding up the bed. “Sorry, we won’t stay long.”
Sav waves them off. “You’re fine. Would you like to meet your granddaughter?”
Mom nods, smiling through her tears. “We would love that.”
I shift, lowering Lennon from my shoulder to cradle in my arms. Her face squishes in a little purse as she wiggles, never opening her eyes.
“Oh, she is beautiful,” Mom coos as she comes closer, her gaze never leaving Lennon.
“Would you like to hold her?”
Mom looks at Sav. “Can I?”
Savannah smiles and nods. I carefully stand, allowing Mom to take my seat. I transfer Lennon into my mother’s arms as tears stream down her face. “Lennon, meet your grandma.”
“Everything about her is perfect.”
Dad claps me on the back as my eyes lock on my hero, my biggest supporter, my role model. “Congratulations, Son.”
I swallow hard and watch my dad brush a gentle thumb over my daughter’s cherub cheeks. He doesn’t say much at first, as if he’s memorizing every detail of her. I know the feeling; I’ve found myself doing the same thing a time or twenty since she was born.
Giving my parents a moment with their first grandchild, I lean down to pick up the gift bag at Mom’s feet. “That’s a little something for Lennon and Savannah.”
I nod, taking the bag over to my wife. Mom is a gift giver. She loves finding the perfect gift for someone and making them feel special. I’m so glad they’ve welcomed Savannah and now Lennon into our family with open arms. Nothing about our relationship— or marriage —is conventional, but it’s us.
Savannah pulls the tissue out of the bag before reaching in to grab the hangers of baby outfits.
There’s a variety of styles in different sizes to keep our daughter’s closet expanding.
Savannah sucks in a deep breath as she pulls out a beige waffle-knit robe, a skincare set with different oils and lotions, a candle, and a journal—all for her.
“Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, you didn’t have to do all of this,” Sav says, voice thick with emotion.
“Of course we did, sweetie,” Mom replies, looking at my wife. “You deserve to be pampered, too, Savannah. You’ve given our family the greatest gift by allowing us to be a part of your daughter’s life. It’s the least we could do.”
Savannah nods, eyes filling with tears, giving them a tight-lipped smile.
“And please, call us Derek and Emily,” Dad offers her a smile.
They visit for nearly an hour before my wife’s eyes grow heavy.
Mom transfers a sleeping Lennon to the hospital bassinet, and then she and my dad hug us goodbye.
I follow them to the door, but Dad stops at the threshold, turning back to me.
He glances over my shoulder to where Sav’s head has drooped to the side before he grips my shoulder.
I don’t expect the weight or the tug as he pulls me into his arms.