We’re on our second bottle of wine when we finally order dinner. Usually, I’m in a rush. Sit down, order, eat and get the hell out of places, but tonight is different. It’s casual, no fuss, no muss. I’m relaxed, and when I should be freaking the hell out because Liam Page is sitting next to me—close enough to touch and smell—and Quinn James is across from me—for most women, this is paradise. It’s odd because while they’re celebrities and everything about this situation tells me I should be anxious, I’m not.
“Peyton, I have a question for you. Earlier, I was with Julius, and he told me he had to sleep in a hotel the night before a game. I’m confused because they’re home tomorrow.”
“The NFLPA has some odd rules,” Liam says.
“The what?”
“The players association,” Peyton answers. “The day before a home game, the players must be at the field for a walk-through. It takes an hour. If the player doesn’t show, they don’t play tomorrow. The night before the game, they’re in a hotel, regardless of whether it’s a home game or not. All the players need to be together, and they’ll be bussed to the stadium in the morning.”
“But Julius was with me this morning. Reggie had a game,” I say.
“The walk-through was at six a.m.,” she says.
My mouth makes the “oh” sound without me saying anything. “I never realized how structured football was.”
“It really is,” Liam adds. “The NFL is working hard on cleaning up their image after a few incidents. Things used to be stricter, but they’ve eased up for the past couple of years.”
“I’d like to go back to where you said you were with Julius this morning.” Peyton looks at me with her eyebrow raised.
“Um . . .”
“Ooh, gossip. I’m here for this,” Quinn says as he leans forward. Liam and Peyton bust up laughing while I stare at him. He waggles his eyebrows and motions for me to start talking. I finish off my half-empty glass of wine and let the words tumble out of my mouth.
Twenty-Two
Julius
It’s been a long time since I’ve had a sleepless night before a game. If we were playing in the Superbowl, I would expect to spend the night staring at the ceiling, but we’re not. It’s a typical game. One we must win to keep a two-game lead over our opponents. And one we’re expected to win. Noah Westbury is having a career season and is one of the top-rated quarterbacks in the league. I shouldn’t be anxious or nervous about our game. Yet, something is on my mind, and I can’t pinpoint what it is. I want to blame everything on Elena, and I probably should. Each time she calls, she makes more of a mess of our lives than they were before she calls, and I’m left picking up the pieces of the kids’ broken hearts. Mine is well past the point of breaking. It’s on the path of healing and finding happiness again, thanks to Autumn.
Autumn.
Saying her name makes my heart race and my palms sweat. These feelings are supposed to be good, the type I should embrace, but the thought of her and me together is somewhat terrifying. There’s something there that I can’t put my finger on. I like her, and I do not doubt that she wants me—even though she shouldn’t after the way I treated her. Autumn is a forgiving person. That much is true. And as much as I want to be with her, I’m hesitant to pull the trigger. Each time I’m with her, I feel comfortable, and that scares me. I’m still married, and starting another relationship before I’ve even filed the paperwork on my divorce seems wrong.
The alarm on my phone goes off. I blink at the ceiling a few times before mustering the strength to roll over and shut the piercing sound off. Today is going to be a long day. It was vital for me to get a good night's sleep to be focused on the field. I don’t need another replay of my epically shitty game like last time.
My eyes adjust to the bright light on my phone. I have texts from my parents, Elena and Autumn. I stare at Elena’s name on my phone. When she walked out, I changed her name in my contacts from My Wife to Elena White. White being her maiden name. I couldn’t stomach seeing Cunningham after her name, not after she did what she did. I open Elena’s first because I already feel off today. I might as well let whatever she has to say to me make things worse and have my parents and Autumn build me up.
Elena White: I want to finish discussing this new girlfriend of yours.
There’s nothing to discuss.
It’s too early in the morning for her to be awake. I close this chat window and go to the message from my parents. It’s a video of the kids wishing me good luck today. Seeing them, happy and with smiles on their faces, brings tears to my eyes. I love them more than I love life and want them to be happy. I don’t know if I’m doing a good job or not. I don’t know if I’m on the right path to being a successful parent and guiding them through a divorce. I honestly don’t know much about anything except how to love them wholeheartedly.
I’ll see you at the game – I text my parents. I’m forever grateful that they gave up their retirement to come live near me. I don’t know what I’d do without them. More so, since they’ve become my go-to for babysitting, especially during overnights and away games. Sure, the kids have Miss Meghan, but she’s young and deserves a life as well.
I finally allow myself to look at Autumn’s text. It’s one line: I should be able to make it by half-time. I open the message to reply and am saddened when I see that’s the only thing she sent. I don’t know what I was expecting, especially since I didn’t text her after leaving last night. I wanted to, and I thought about it a lot. I wanted her to send me a flirty message like before. I suppose if I wanted something like that, I could’ve initiated it. I respond with: I’ll leave the ticket at Will Call. I hope you had a good night with Peyton. I’ll ask her to make sure you have a press pass. I’m excited Autumn will be at the game, albeit slightly nervous. The last time she was there, I laid a giant egg on the field and played the worst game of my life. Of course, in my infinite wisdom, I blamed her. Everything from the moment I met Autumn was her fault. It was easy to blame her than myself and the shit that’s going on with Elena and my joke of a marriage.
My alarm sounds again. It’s time to get moving. I take my phone into the bathroom and turn on the self-help podcast I found. For some reason, listening to people talk about their problems and how they’ve solved them is soothing. It shows that I’m not such a fuck up. When the temperature is decent, I step in and let the water run down my back. It won’t be until later, when I’m at the stadium or home, that I'll get a powerful spray that I need to loosen up my muscles. These hotels aren’t designed to help us athletes ease our aches and pains.
After dressing in sweats, I make my way down to the conference room where breakfast is. This is the most essential part of my day, and the only time I’ll eat until dinner tonight. Once I get to the field, the last thing on my mind is food. Water and Gatorade are all I’ll have later. Right now is my only chance to add all the necessary fuel to my body so I can outperform everyone determined to bring me down today.
Noah raises his hand when he sees me. I nod, signaling I’ll be over after I make my way through the buffet line. Thankfully, the hotel provides staff to help us carry our plates to the table. Because us football players see a buffet and it’s game on. It’s a challenge to see how many plates we can fill on our first trip through.