EPILOGUE
Two Weeks Later: KAYLEE
I decided to get honest with my audience on Instagram, and in my stories I explained how Ben and I hit a rough patch but we’re back together now.
And my engagement has soared. His has, too—and our competition officially came to a close at midnight last night.
Today’s the official end of our contracted time together, and when we signed on for a fake relationship while we were screwing in secret, I don’t think either of us saw marriage and twins in our future together.
Yet here we are.
Ellie’s having Kitty tabulate our final engagement numbers, and she’s having her new assistant double check them.
Kitty—or Amanda, as she prefers to be called now—put in her two weeks with Ellie a few days ago after getting a job offer with some tech corp in town, and Ellie admitted that while she had her reservations in hiring her, it ended up working out pretty well.
Ellie texts us a little after ten.
Ellie: You two ready for the results?
Me: Ready! Should we come over?
Ben: It’s fine. You can let her down gently over text.
I roll my eyes at Ben. “You’re so cocky thinking you’re the winner,” I mutter.
“I’ve got some cocky for you, Peaches.”
I giggle.
Ellie: Over text feels anticlimactic. Come over. We have a whole thing planned.
We make our way over to Ellie and Luke’s house, and sure enough, Ellie, Amanda, and Ellie’s new assistant, Leah—another Aces football wife—are waiting for us. Leah hits play on a drumroll sound effect, and Ben and I both laugh.
“Have a seat,” Ellie says, and we sit on her couch while she sits behind her desk.
“Ben, you acquired three new sponsorships but lost two during the length of this contest, and Kaylee, you skyrocketed quickly to over a hundred thousand followers and acquired six sponsorships. Well done to both of you. You worked hard to keep your audience engaged, and when we tabulated the engagement based on the agreement we made a few months ago, we ended up with a winner.”
Ellie glances at Leah, who nods.
“It was so close, but one of you just barely edged out the other. The conditions were as fair as we could make them. Ben, your posts averaged four point eight percent engagement, and Kaylee, your posts averaged four point nine percent engagement.”
“I demand a recount,” Ben says dryly.
“I think your high follower numbers actually worked against you,” Ellie says. “It’s harder to engage a larger audience, and people went crazy for the selfies of you two that Kaylee kept posting.”
“Ha ha, you have to plan a mystery date for me,” I say with glee as I tease him.
He grins. “I have the perfect plan in mind.”
I’m either in for a treat or I’m in for a whole boatload of regret, and it just so happens to take place a few nights later.
We start with a private cooking lesson for the two of us with a famous chef in Vegas in the kitchen of his restaurant, and then he takes me to a concert for a band that happens to be in Vegas.
It’s Nickelback, of course…and I have to admit, they put on a great show. I guess he made some changes for me, so (begrudgingly), I can make some changes for him, too.
* * *
Six Weeks Later: KAYLEE
It took a few of these before I knew what I was looking at, but today I can at least see the two babies on the screen in front of me.
This is Ben’s first time seeing the babies on the big screen. He clutches my hand as the ultrasound tech pushes the wand into my bladder—nice considering they make me chug twenty-four ounces of water before I show up.
We’re here for our anatomy scan, which means if we want to know the gender of our babies, today’s the day.
Ben said he didn’t want to know. He said he wanted to be surprised.
I said I wanted to be prepared.
It’s a good example of how opposite we can be sometimes. He likes to live life by the seat of his pants while I tend to be a planner. And somehow…we just work. We balance each other in unexpected ways.
And so today we find out.
“They look like they’re each in their own little compartment,” he says.
“I like to think of it as bunk beds,” I say with a giggle.
The tech just smiles, and Ben asks, “Is it normal for her not to say anything? Is everything okay?”
The tech chuckles this time. “It’s normal,” she says.
“The doctor will go over the results with you, but I don’t see anything to be concerned about.
” She clicks and takes some measurements, and then she says, “Baby one is all tucked in, but if we can get a little movement, I might be able to tell gender. Baby two is definitely showing me. Do we want to find out today?”
It’s the big question I’ve been waiting for. “Yes,” I say.
“Baby two is a girl,” she says.
Tears form in my eyes. “A girl?” I ask softly.
She smiles and pushes the wand into my bladder some more. I think she’s trying to wake baby one up or something.
“A girl?” Ben asks, a little bit of terror in his tone.
I giggle.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at me.
“You,” I say.
“You won’t think it’s so funny when we’re fighting off douchebags like me when she’s a teenager.”
The tech laughs at that, and I do, too.
“I’m sure you’ll put the fear of God in any boy who steps foot on our doorstep,” I say dryly.
“You got that right,” he says.
We see movement from baby one.
“A little more,” the tech says, coaxing the baby to move some more. “Aha! And there we go. Ready?” she asks, and we both nod as we lock eyes for a beat. “Another girl,” she says as she circles something on the screen and puts an arrow with the word girl beside it. “Congratulations.”
“Two…two girls?” Ben chokes out.
“Man, are you screwed in this house when they hit their teenage years,” I tease. “All that estrogen? Forget about it.”
He looks as white as a sheet. “How long after we have these two until we can try for more? I need to get some testosterone up in the Olson household.”
I laugh, but the truth is that it’s all in good fun. Girl or boy, as long as they’re happy, that’s all either of us cares about.
And with a daddy like Ben Olson, happiness is a guarantee.
* * *
Five Months Later: BEN
I glance up at the clock from the sidelines. Our defense needs to stop these Titans or they will be going to the big game in two weeks instead of us.
They’re ahead by a field goal. It’s been a tight race the entire game, and my emotions are definitely mixed.
I want to win, obviously. Of course.
The competition in me is strong.
To go back to the Super Bowl for a second year in a row would be a dream. Only seven teams in the league have ever won two consecutive championships. The Aces want to be the eighth.
This is what we’ve worked for all year, and it all boils down to the next fifty-one seconds. They still have a timeout, so a first down here ends it.
Richard Garrett leads the Aces in sacks this season, and as the ball moves into action, I watch as he fights to get to Ryan Green, the Titans’ quarterback. He can’t break through, though, and Green is able to toss the ball to a receiver down field.
My heart sinks as he carries the ball to a first down.
That’s it.
An entire season down the drain.
The Titans run the clock and call their timeout while our side of the field sits in hushed despair.
Cameras pan the sideline to catch the looks on our faces, and while some guys on the bench are emotional, I school my face to lean more on the side of anger than sadness.
I’m pissed we didn’t win. I’m upset at the mistakes we made.
But it’s still been a good season.
It’s the longest thirty seconds of my life as I wait for this game to just be over. The Titans get back out there, the quarterback takes a knee, and that’s it.
We all move toward the field to congratulate our competitors on their victory before we can just get the fuck out of here, head to the locker room, eat whatever is provided to us, and take our flight back from Tennessee to Vegas.
But as I go through the motions tonight, the usual cloud that hits when I realize I’m done for the season doesn’t seem as thick.
It doesn’t seem to hurt as badly. Usually I want to stand on the field a few minutes at the end of the game and look around me, to take it all in and look in the stands—even at the opposing team’s home stadium.
This is my life. It’s incredible, and I’m grateful for everything I have. I like to take a moment to soak it all in.
But tonight, I don’t want to do any of that. I just want to go home.
And I think I know why.
Twins usually come early. That’s what Kaylee told me, and her doctor scheduled a C-section at thirty-six weeks. That’s in four days. I’ll be a father in four days.
To two babies.
If we won today, the season would’ve continued. I would’ve had practices to attend and a huge game to prepare for both physically and mentally when Kaylee deserves both my physical and mental energy at home.
I would’ve been there for the birth of my children…but then I would’ve had to leave her to go play the big game shortly after delivery.
I don’t want to leave her, and I won’t want to leave the babies, either.
I know she has her mom nearby to help, and Ellie and Kate, both of whom gave birth earlier this month and who are busy in their own rights with two kids each to care for now, but I want to be there for all the moments, not just the big ones.
I realize when next season comes, that will be impossible…
but it also won’t be days after we welcome our children into the world.
We’ll have a routine by then…at least I hope we will.
I’m not a father quite yet, and from everything I’ve heard, the second you create a routine, your kid laughs in your face and tosses it all out the window.
Still…while this loss is tough, there’s something even bigger than this game sitting on the horizon.
My eyes meet Jack’s once I get to the locker room.
“Good game, man,” I say, and we slap hands, grab on, and squeeze for a beat.
He presses his lips together and nods. “Tough loss. Lot of mistakes.”