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“Y’all can change in my room. I’ll grab some clothes and change across the hall.” I rush up the stairs and grab some basketball shorts, underwear, and a T-shirt out of my dresser. “I’ll be done in a minute.” I change quickly, leaving my wet clothes hanging on the side of the tub.
When I knock on my bedroom door, Paisley announces for me to come in. They’re sitting on the edge of the bed while Larissa braids her hair. “You ready for that nap?” I ask her.
“Where are we sleeping?”
“Here,” I tell her, finding Larissa’s eyes. Heat flares between us.
“Is this your room?” Paisley asks.
“Yeah, you think my bed is big enough for all three of us?”
“Yes. It’s the most biggest bed I’ve ever seen. Mommy said I’m not allowed to jump on it.”
“Did she?”
“Yeah,” she says, dejected.
“What if I told you that when you wake up from your nap, you can jump on my bed?”
“I say it’s time for a nap.” She crawls from the foot of the bed to the top and pulls back my dark gray comforter. “This is gray like my name,” she informs us.
“Wow, you’re super smart,” I tell her with a smile.
“I know,” she replies, climbing under the covers, making me laugh and Larissa scold her about her manners.
I move to stand behind Larissa. “Ready for your nap, baby?” I ask, trailing my index finger down her back.
“Y-yes,” she sputters before climbing in and curling up beside Paisley. I take a minute to commit the scene before me to memory. If I have my say, there will be many, many more days just like this one, but in the event it doesn’t turn out that way, I never want to forget this moment.
“East, you’re ’posta be napping,” Paisley reminds me.
“Let me get the light.” I turn off the light and then walk to the windows and pull the blinds, blocking out the sun. When I climb into bed, Paisley grabs my hand and pulls me closer to them. She then grabs Larissa hand and places it in mine, settling our joined hands on her lap and resting hers on top of ours. “Night, night, family,” she says, closing her eyes.
My eyes find Larissa’s, and I see her tears brimming. I want to pull her into my arms and kiss her soft lips. I want to tell her that I want to take naps like this every day. I want to tell her that I want to be their family. Instead, I give her hand a gentle squeeze. She closes her eyes and snuggles up to Paisley. We lie there in the quiet room, nothing but the sound of our even breathing. When her hand goes lax in mine, I know she’s asleep. When Paisley rolls over and snuggles up into her mom’s chest, I feel a pang of longing in mine. Careful not to wake them, I slide over and wrap my arms around both of them. Once I have them where they are meant to be, I’m able to fall asleep.I was a little worried about East being at Paisley’s game, but it worked out. The dads were eager to meet him, and the moms were eager to talk to him. All the while, he stood there with his hand in mine or his arm over my shoulders, and after they won the game, my daughter was in his arms. When a guy from the other team asked him for his autograph, he asked him to call the main office and he would get it to him, but today he was with his family.
“I like being your family, East,” Paisley says before biting into her hot dog that he just grilled for her. We’re sitting on his back deck having dinner. Hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill.
“You do?”
“Yep.”
“Well, I like it too,” he tells her.
“Can I stay here instead of going to Grandma’s?” she asks.
“No, sweetie. Mommy has to be at work early tomorrow,” I answer.
“I can stay with East.” She says this like we should have already figured out that was the best answer.
“Sorry, princess. We have to listen to what Mommy says. I fly out on Tuesday, but I’ll be back Thursday afternoon. Maybe we can have dinner here?”
“Where you going?”
“I have a game in Chicago. Then I have two games here at home, one Friday and one Sunday. Maybe you and your mom can come and watch me play?”
“Can we, Mommy?”
He looks over at me, waiting for my answer. “We’ll see if we can get tickets to the game on Sunday.”
“Babe, you don’t need to get tickets. I have that covered. You just need to tell me if you want to sit with the other wives and girlfriends or in the stands behind the dugout.”
“Which one is closer to you?” Paisley asks. She has no idea that my heart is beating like a bass drum in my chest at him referring to me as his girlfriend.
