Page 42 of Her Game Plan

Charlotte looks like she wants to say something else when Kim calls us over to sing “Happy Birthday,” so we start making our way back to the picnic tables. As we walk, Charlotte slides her hand in mine. Because we’re fake dating. And we have to keep up impressions.

Though, I wonder whether it feels as good, as comfortingly invigorating, to her as it does to me.

I’m sure she would tell me if I ask: Charlotte’s not particularly good at keeping her thoughts to herself. I’m also sure I’m not ready to face the truth if everything is for show.

We sing along with the kids as Marlee stares intently at the chocolate cupcake with rainbow sprinkles in front of her. Four pink candles protrude from the top, the wax melting down their sides as our off-tune melody fills the air.

Marlee blows out all her candles in one go before announcing loudly that she wished for a unicorn to ride.

“Thank goodness she told us, so I don’t have to make that one come true,” Chris whispers to his twin.

She bumps her shoulder against his. “Like you’re not already thinking of ways you could get a white horse to dress up like a unicorn.”

I watch the siblings interact, still surprised by how close they are despite everything happening at the moment. As someone who grew up without siblings, I can’t imagine being that close to anyone. Though, I do understand staying close to someone you’re actively competing against. One of the hardest things for me over the years has been when my friends get traded to a new team. In a matter of minutes, they go from being your ride-or-die to being the competition. It’s hard, but you figure it out fairly quickly in my line of work.

Steve Langford makes his way over to the other side of Chris, and Charlotte laughs at something her dad says about needing to get out of here before the sugar crashes hit. Their relationship is still very unclear to me. He’s fucking with both of his kids because he changed his mind about their future, and they both act like it’s completely normal.

Not that I’m equipped to be the judge of what is or isn’t normal.

At the announcement that it’s time for presents, the kids race to grab the gift bags they brought, forming a circle around Marlee. One at a time, a kid hands her a gift and, typically, before she has it open, the gift-giver has already announced what’s inside. The adults around the circle fall back into conversation, keeping an eye on the explosion of pink, sparkles, and unicorns emerging from the bags. My stomach twists as I watch Marlee open gift after gift, questioning if what I got was appropriate. Too little? Too much? What’s the appropriate uncle gift? Not that I’m her uncle.

Finally, it’s my turn. I hold out my sparkly pink bag and have to bite my tongue from telling her what it is.

Marlee’s face lights up when she pulls out the tiara. “This is the crown Princess Quinn wears!” She shoves it onto her head before pulling the rest of the gift out. By the time she’s done, she’s wearing both the crown and the heeled slippers and is waving the wand. She made a bid to put on the dress, but Kim efficiently shut her down.

Charlotte nudges me, looking into my face with an expression of… appreciation? “Not bad. Now I can see why you didn’t want your name associated with my unicorn backpack.”

I wrap a consoling arm around her shoulder. “Not everyone can be as good at giving gifts as I am, Princess. It’s a game you’re going to lose every time.”

She laughs as she shoves away from me. “God, can you be any more conceited?”

“It would be difficult… but for you, I’ll try.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it!” she teases.

We spend the next half hour or so chasing around tiny humans as they play, pet animals, and eat more cupcakes. A few of the dads come over to introduce themselves, a couple asking for autographs. Fortunately, I’ve always got a permanent marker in my pocket when I’m out in public for these occasions.

Finally, a dad pulls his kid from the fray, declaring it’s time to go, and it’s like a dam breaking: the parents all instructing their kids to say thank you before loading them into waiting vehicles. Charlotte and I stay to help Kim and Chris pick up, despite their insistence that they’ve got it.

As we walk toward our cars, once the park is back in its original condition, Charlotte offers me a headphone. “I have a new playlist I think you’ll like.”

I place the earbud in and smile as “Absolutely (Story of a Girl)” plays. It’s not one on any of my playlists, but I do like its 2000’s vibe. “So far so good, Princess.”

Chapter 17

Charlotte

I bounce lightly on my toes as the crowd prepares for the first real game of the year at 5280 Field. Everything is loud, the noise constantly echoing around the stadium. More than a quarter of the seats are still empty, and even though fans continue to arrive, the gaps are a stark reminder of how much I have to do this season. Even if we’re close to having a sold-out game. Close isn’t good enough for the first game of the season against the Phoenix Firebirds.

The team’s kicker is the only one still on the field, taking his last few reps as the staff puts away the equipment the team used in warm-ups. We’re twenty minutes from our 2:25 start time, and my heart feels like it’s about to explode, it’s beating so fast. Unfortunately, the churning in my stomach suggests it might be more from nerves than from excitement. Which means I lied to Callan this morning when we pulled up to the stadium together, just like we did for all three preseason games.

I look down at the tablet in my hand, one of the many upgrades I’ve made since I started watching the games from the field. I don’t care what the media, my brother, or my dad has to say about it. If I’m running this team, I’m going to be here, where things are happening. I scan the roster again, silently mouthing the names and their numbers as I work toward memorizing them all. Their names are on the backs of their jerseys, but that doesn’t help me out much when I’m talking to them face-to-face.

And I will not be the owner who doesn’t know her entire team.

Our refereeing team walks confidently onto the field, and I sneakily take a picture for Addie, telling her how much better the crew would look if one of them had a sassy ponytail sticking out the back of their hat.

I’m not even surprised when she responds quickly, telling me female refs have an even harder time making it in professional football than in basketball. She follows it up with another text about how specialized each person’s role is on a football referee team. I put my phone away without scanning the next paragraph of text she sends.