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The stadium is a constant rumble of noise as the game continues on, Chicago ahead of Kentucky by seven points. Up in the suite box, most of the stadium noise is muted, but I would rather focus on that than most of the people around me. Everyone here in the private suite dedicated for friends and family of the players oozes an air of a sense of belonging, one that I realized upon being here that I am severely lacking.
The only people here I am comfortable around—other than Lilah—are Andrea, Daria, and Elaine. Like me, they are dressed comfortably in jeans and casual shirts underneath hoodies because of the cold weather. But everyone else is dressed up in suits or obviously designer outfits that make me feel as if I am doing something wrong by just being here. Which is a ridiculous thought, I know, because I am dressed no differently than Andrea and Daria, one of whom is the sister of a player and the other the fiancée of another. Somewhere down below is Willow, since she is also working, so she isn’t able to join us up here. Unbeknownst to everyone here, I’m not just a nanny, but someone who is dating one of the players on the team. It is perfectly normal and acceptable for me to be here.
And yet, there is a taunting voice in the back of my head, jeering at me to notice the difference between the rest of them and me.
It frustrates me, honestly, that these kinds of insecurities are cropping up right now, and I know it’s because of the change between Leo and me. The few times I had been here before, right in this suite with Lilah, I didn’t care for a second that I was just a nanny and the other women here were NFL wives or girlfriends or whatever. My sole purpose was to look after Lilah, and to be here with her as she watched her dad play. And that isstillmy purpose now; it’s just a bonus that the man we are here to watch is someone I am slowly entering a relationship with.
I have never been ashamed of my career before, never felt like I was lacking as a person because of my choice in jobs. So why the hell do I feel inadequate now? I know it’s not because of the differences in how we are dressed—that would be too easy of a reason. And, if anything, I can dress just like them if I wanted to; I have the money for it. But, no, that’s not it.
My throat works, chest tightening. The people here. . . their relationships are known and out in the open. They can leave this place and hug and kiss their men upon leaving this suite and I can’t. And part of me knows that this is an extreme reaction to have, to already be so weighed down by it when we are basically just ending the prologue of a potential relationship coming to be. I can’t compare it to the established relationships around me, especially not when our circumstances are so different.
But will they become the same eventually? If Leo and I stay together, which I hope we do, will there come a time where we no longer hide our relationship from the world? What will the media say then?
Don’t think about that now, I remind myself. There is no point worrying about a potential future when the present is still around to enjoy. I can’t let my worries and whatever silly insecurities I can’t even make sense of entirely keep me from enjoying my new, budding relationship.
A tug at my jeans breaks me out of my spinning thoughts, and I glance down to see Lilah looking up at me. Our eyes meet and she raises her arms, and a smile tugs on my mouth as I bend down to hold and lift her, resting her on my hip. She’s in her own cute little jeans and a Rebels jersey with her last name and Leo’s number on the back, settling on my hip with her arms around my neck loosely.
“Where’s Dad?” she asks, looking out the window and down below at the field.
I crack a smile as my gaze slides to one of the televisions mounted up on the wall. It’s half time, allowing people to take the break to go to the bathroom or get food, and I point to the TV right as the camera pans to the Rebels players at their bench. “Look, look,” I say quickly, feeling my smile widen as the familiar, handsome, and sweat-soaked face appears on screen. “There’s your dad.”
I find myself looking at Lilah, who is looking at the screen as if she has never seen Leo on it before. Her eyes are wide and lips parted, a wondrous expression on her face that is all kinds of adorable and tugs violently at my heartstrings. Lilah is always so overjoyed to see Leo; he is basically a hero in her eyes.
Meanwhile, I can’t look at his face without flushing crimson, remembering how we started the morning together. Totally inappropriate thought to have while I hold his daughter.
“Daria!” A voice calls out, and I glance over to see one of the many women in the suite walk over. She is in jeans and a sleeveless blouse tucked in despite the cold, and high heels to match. She shoots Andrea a smile, completely ignores me, and says to Daria, “How’s the wedding planning going?”
Daria blinks in surprise, like she hadn’t expected to be asked that. “Oh, it’s going well, Stephanie,” she says with a smile that I can tell is fake. The kind that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just slow, since we’re both busy with work.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s hard,” Stephanie says with a nod. Her voice is sympathetic, as if Daria just told her she had to put her dog down or something. Next to me, I see Andrea take a long sip of her hard seltzer, like she wants no part of this conversation. Brightly, Stephanie tells Daria, “If you ever need any help, let me know! I had to plan my and Benny’s wedding all by myself, basically.” With a trilling laugh, she adds, “I’m sure Caden’s more focused on football than wedding planning.”
The comment is snide and she isn’t subtle about it, and I’m bewildered. Not at the fact that someone is faking niceties just to make unnecessary remarks, but at the fact that it’s so damn random and, like I said,unnecessary.
Unsurprisingly, though, Daria isn’t one to back down. Instead, she just smiles sharply, holding onto her daughter, and says to Stephanie, “Actually, I’ve already got plenty of help. Plus, Caden actually loves planning the wedding. He’s super enthusiastic about everything. So, I have no problem in it taking time if it means we get to do it together,” she concludes with a shrug.
Stephanie’s smile strains, and I am pretty sure it’s because Daria basically confirmed that her relationship with Caden is a lot more respectful and sweeter than Stephanie’s with Benny. Which is true and hilarious because Stephanie just brought this on herself. “Well, that’s great, isn’t it?” Stephanie says, not quite looking for an answer. She is already turning away as she adds, “Whenever the wedding is, I’m looking forward to receiving my invite.”
She walks off, and when she’s out of earshot, Daria scoffs with a roll of her eyes before looking at Andrea and I flatly. “As if that b-i-t-c-h is getting an invite,” she deadpans, spellingbitchout for the sake of the little girls.
Andrea shakes her head. “She acts as if her and Benny are Rebels royalty.”
Daria grins. “Everyone knows that’s Reed and Willow,” she points out, earning agreeing laughs from me and Andrea. It’s a fact no one can really argue against. The Rebels’ starting quarterback and the head reporter for the team? They are basically Rebels royalty.
As we enjoy our drinks—mine being soda instead of alcohol since I don’t drink while I am working—the conversation shifts and I ask Andrea, “How’s work going?”
“Mm, yeah,” Daria pipes in after swallowing a sip of her drink. “Have you settled on an opening date yet?”
Andrea blows out a breath, her cheeks slightly pink. “I’ve finalized the publishers and authors that will let me carry their books, along with the suppliers for food and drinks. I think I’m looking at an opening towards the end of the year. I want it to be perfect, you know? So, I’m trying not to rush it.”
I nod. “That makes sense.” I smile, then, seeing the glimmer in her eyes. “You must be so excited.”
“Try so anxious I might throw up,” Andrea says with a wry smile, holding her tall can of White Claw to her chest. “I mean, there’s a very real possibility that the store will fail and all of this would be for nothing.”
Both Daria and I frown at Andrea’s pessimism. “Don’t think like that,” Daria says, nudging her hip with Andrea’s. Elaine wiggles in her arms, wanting to be let down, and as soon as she is, Lilah does the same in my arms. I let her down as well, and the two girls run over to the table full of sweet treats, Daria and I keeping one eye on them.
To Andrea, I say, “I’m sure it’s going to be great. You’re doing something you’re passionate about. That’s never a bad a thing.”
