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“Of course, I’m going to pick you up for the ball,” I growled with exasperation. It drove me nuts when she said crap like that. It was my job, as her man, to treat her like a queen. I didn’t understand why she was always surprised when I wanted to do things for her. It wasn’t a confidence issue, and she’d mentioned that her parents were happily married and her dad worshiped her mom.
The only guess I had was that she hadn’t been able to spend any real time with me and was perhaps worried that I was a stereotypical professional athlete who played the field—pun intended. Even though I’d never been into casual sex—and I hadn’t been in a relationship for a long damn time—hearing me tell her that and seeing it with her own eyes were two very different things.
“How did the shoot go yesterday?” I asked, changing the subject so I wouldn’t ruin our phone call with my aggravation. It had been her last day for this campaign. Today, she was traveling to San Francisco to spend a couple of weeks with her parents.
“It was so cool!” She went on to tell me all about her session where she was posing with exotic animals for a line of jungle camping equipment. Her stories about her shoots were always interesting and funny, but my favorite part was just listening to the excitement in her voice. It sent warmth spreading through my chest, and I was determined to be the one to give her so much happiness for the rest of our lives.
Two weeks.
Halfway there.
My phone vibrated on the coffee table, and I quickly snatched it up, making the conversation around me come to a halt. Clay, Roan, and Ames—the latter had come over to watch the Yankees destroy the Astros in my theater room—all stared at me. Clay was trying not to laugh, and I shot him a warning glare before jumping to my feet and stalking out of the room.
Wife-to-be: When should football players wear armor?
Grinning, I replied.
Me: I’m afraid to hear the answer.
Wife-to-be: When they play knight games.
Me: Wow. These just keep getting cornier, babe.
Wife-to-be: Okay, how about this? What do you call a person who walks back and forth screaming one minute, then sits down weeping uncontrollably the next?
Before I read the last of the text, I tapped on her name and called her.
“Impatient much?” she asked when she picked up.
“Nah, I just wanted to hear your voice.”
Wrenley sucked in a fast breath and was silent long enough for it to become awkward. But before I could smooth it over, she said, “I like the sound of your voice too.”
“I’m glad. Because you’re going to hear it a lot.”
“Um…so, do you want to know the answer to the joke?”
“Lay it on me, baby.”
“So it starts with What do you call a person who walks back and forth screaming one minute, then sits down weeping uncontrollably the next? And the answer is a football coach.”
Laughter exploded from my chest and sucked the air from my lungs. Tears leaked from my eyes, and I had to bend over and put a hand on my knee to try to take a breath.
Wrenley chuckled. “I liked that one, but I didn’t expect you to bust a gut over it.”
“It’s funny because it’s true,” I choked out before laughing heartily again. Then I pleaded, “Don’t ever tell Coach Gary I said that.”
“My lips are sealed,” she responded with a giggle.
I had been leaning against the wall in the hallway, so I pushed off it and made my way to the den, where I stretched out on the couch, settling in for a chat with my girl.
“What have you been up to with your mom today?”
One week.
Only one week until Wrenley was finally home and in my arms where she belonged.
Wife-to-be: How did the charity game go?
Every year, our team owner, Lennox Madison, held a fundraiser for his foundations—they all benefitted kids in some way—and it always included an inter-squad football game. Afterward, there was a big party with any of the kids, and their families, who wanted to come. He even offered to cover travel expenses for anyone who didn’t live locally.
The game wasn’t mandatory, but no one missed it if we didn’t have to because it was fun, for a good cause, and we deeply respected our boss.
Me: The Nighthawks won! :P
Wife-to-be: Hilarious
Me: I know
Me: Seriously though, it was awesome. Kids are the best fans.
I sent her a couple of photos of the kids celebrating on the field with the team.
Wife-to-be: Aw. Cutest thing I’ve ever seen!
Me: Hey! *big, bad football player pouts*
Wife-to-be: I don’t think your ego needs to be stroked, superstar.
Me: Not my ego…
The dots appeared and disappeared a half dozen times while I waited to see if she’d take the bait.
