“What kind of paperwork?”
“Now Miss Loretta, you know well and good what kind of paperwork.”
“Did you two really go and get married?”
“We did,” I say.
“Without telling anyone?” Eunice asks.
“Kayla was pretty clear about where we stood last week. I thought it was time to make it clearer.”
“What my husband means to say,” Kayla adds with a smile, “is that we had plans for something bigger, but we couldn’t wait a minute longer.”
I hold back a snort and a smile.
A snort because that “minute” line ain’t off by much.
A smile because I love the way she says “my husband,” all possessive and proud.
I shift my hand, and Kayla and I thread our fingers together.
“It’s your honeymoon, and y’all came to get smoothies?” Eunice asks.
“No, we’re going to Nashville tomorrow for our honeymoon,” I say. “Quick weekend getaway.”
“Don’t the Mudflaps have an away series in Nashville starting tomorrow?” Loretta asks, hand fully on hip now. “Sounds to me like Miss Carville is dragging you on a work trip with her.”
“Now, Miss Loretta,” I say. “You kicked a bad husband to the curb before finding the right one. Shouldn’t you appreciate a man who’s happy to support a strong woman?”
“The real question is if Miss Carville will supportyou,” Loretta mutters.
Kayla and I both bristle.
I should say something, but her words are like a punch to the jugular, robbing me of the ability to speak or even swallow.
“Mrs.Carville is sitting right here,” Kayla says, using a firm tone with Loretta for the first time. “Of course I support Sean. I plan to be on the front row of everything he does in life. It doesn’t matter if it’s for the Arsenal, the Blue Collars, behind the bar, or making omelets at home on a random Tuesday morning. If Sean’s there, I’m there, with pom poms, foam fingers, foghorns—whatever he needs. No one will cheer louder for my husband than me.”
My chest constricts, hearing her say all of this. I don’t know if I’m more proud of her for finally defending herself, or if I’m aching because she’s standing up for me.
This ache …
It’s nothing I’ve felt before.
It’s hope and possibility, but it’s also the ache of countless years spent being needed but never chosen. Wanted for what I could offer, not for who I am.
And here’s Kayla, saying the words I’ve craved all my life—words that soothe like a balm and hit like a branding iron all at once.
Because what we have isn’t real.
Yet, if it’s not real, why are her eyes shimmering with righteous indignation?
And when did she stand up? She’s looking down on the women, not in a condescending way, but in a way that shows she’s done shrinking for them.
They pushed her too far.
She’s almost glowing in all her power, but then she looks at me, and the fire in her eyes mellows to a soft, steady roar. The smile she gives me is quiet; nothing showy about it. “I will do anything for Sean. Knowing him has changed my life. If y’all think I won’t paint my face for trivia night if he’s competing, you clearly haven’t been paying attention.”
I chuckle and stand up, pleased to see the two women speechless, but not humiliated.
