Page 7 of One Night


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“She only slept for like two whole hours last night.”

“Well, I was super busy, but how about a little nap Bri-baby?” I say, but I can tell she’s already sleeping.

“I hate you, you know that. Why doesn’t my baby like me?” she whines. I know she’s kidding.

“I don’t know Rach, maybe she knows I’m the fun one.”

“Maybe.”

“Rachel this is Hayden. Hayden this is my sister. I am just going to put her down in her bed, be right back.”

“Nice to meet you. You look familiar,” Rachel says, looking him over. I don’t like that. “Did we go to high school together?”

“No. I play for the Tennessee Goliaths.”

“You’re Hayden Weston?”

“Yes.”

“Holy shit, Tym. You bagged a football player?”

“Jesus, Rach. Could you be any less tactful?”

“I could, but I won’t.”

“Gee, thanks.” Hayden laughs so I know he isn’t offended. “We’ll see you at dinner,” I say.

“Okay. See you later,” she says going back in her apartment. I follow her and put Brianna down. Then I free Hayden from the kids. I take him to my apartment, where we get back in bed for the rest of the day.

I must drift off because when I open my eyes the sun is setting and there is a banging on my front door. Since I am not dressed, I throw on a robe and answer the door.

“You’re late,” my mom, Denise, says.

“No, I’m not,” I say after glancing at the clock on the stove.

“Fine. Rachel tells me you have a man in here. Is that true?”

“Yes, mama. It’s true.”

“Well, I want to meet him,” she says. I smirk.

“He’s indisposed,” I say. “You can meet him later.”

“What the hell is that?”

“What’s what?” I ask, feigning innocence.

“That giant rock on your finger?”

“Oh. I’m getting married,” I say. She grabs my hand, examining the ring.

“My last baby is getting married?” She’s about as subtle as Mrs. Bennett.

“Yep.”

“Oh my God. I thought this day would never come.” I roll my eyes. I am twenty-one, not seventy-one. She’s so overdramatic.

We eat dinner with my family. Everyone bombarded him with football questions, but eventually, we escape back to my place.

“So what do you think? Are they deal breakers?” I ask getting ready for bed. He’s staying so that’s something.

“Not at all. I’m an only child so I think this is going to be great,” he says.

“You say that now,” I say laughing.

“I mean it,” he says pulling me in for a kiss. “Loving you is going to be the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I love you too, Hayden. This is so intense,” I say.

“It is, but I have a feeling it’s going to be worth it, love.”

“I think so too,” I say agreeing with him.

Being by his side for the rest of my life sounds just about perfect.

Who knew signing up for Let’s Try Love would actually work out in my favor?

Epilogue

Hayden

Five years and three kids later, I’ve gotten everything I ever wanted and a few things I didn’t know what I needed. My profile on Let’s Try Love was only active for one day, but I don’t think I would have found Tymber without it, so I will always be grateful for it. Tymber and I endorse the app whenever it comes up because that’s how much we believe in it.

I am still playing ball, but this is my last season. I am moving into broadcasting next season and I couldn’t come at a better time. At thirty-four, my body isn’t what it used to be. I started playing peewee ball at five and I’ve given everything to the sport I love. I’ve broken so many bones over the years, that I can tell when it’s about to rain now. I’ve made enough money over the years on top of what I already had to support our family a hundred times over. Even with all that, it still wasn’t an easy decision, but it’s time to hang up my cleats.

After we got married, we moved to the Green Hills area. On one side of us, a county music star lives with his wife and kids and on the other, a teammate of mine, Asher Tipton lives alone. I enter the house through the garage after a long day at practice. The scent of something amazing cooking makes my stomach grumble. I was so busy today that I forgot to eat lunch. I’m exhausted, sweaty, starving, and in dire need of a shower.

“Babe, I’m home.” I am greeted with shouts from the kids.

“Daddy,” our oldest, Zia shouts from in front of cartoons. She is four and our little ringleader.

“Hi guys, where’s mommy?”

“She is in the bathroom, again,” Zia says. Riley and Rachel sit next to her on the couch, but they aren’t as talkative yet. Tymber has been sicker with this pregnancy than with the last three. I lean down over the back of the couch kissing my girls heads. They are so engrossed in the cartoons that they barely notice me.

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