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“Never give away your tell. Did they teach you nothing in med school?”
“I opted out of the poker classes and went straight for gynecology.”
Layton throws up his hands like he’s heard enough, and Elouise laughs. “He’s a keeper, Livy.”
“I’m planning on it.”
My fiancé hasn’t been on the field during game play since the play-offs last year.
“Do you have your gum?” I ask as we walk through the tunnel to watch the pregame.
He taps his front right pocket. “Yep. I’ll be okay, Pix. First time’s going to be rough for sure. Second time probably, too, but someone will have to show our boys the sport. Might as well be me. And I’d rather not have my first game with them at my side. But I’m not cheering for Atlanta. Or Carolina.”
Dr. Jeffrey tries to play it cool, but she spends the first half like a kid in a candy store. “Did you see that? That was pass interference. Come on, refs. Are you blind?” And that’s all while she’s not in the zone, high-fiving players and trying to amp up the crowd, towel in hand. Just before halftime, I catch her staring at her phone, smiling from ear to ear throwing up a touchdown sign.
There was no touchdown.
“Everything okay?”
“Better than okay, Livy.” She turns the screen to me that has numbers and a plotter graph on it.
“I don’t know what that is.”
“That’s your blood work. Nothing’s changed with the endo, but your eggs? They’re ripe and ready, and nothing I’m reading says you can’t harvest for surrogacy.” She hugs me tight. “Nothing’s a given, but the first hurdle is the biggest, and you’ve cleared it.”
Thank God she’s hugging me because I would’ve collapsed otherwise.
“Hey, Ranger,” she shouts over my head.
The next thing I know, strong arms surround me and carry me through the tunnel to a bench just out of eyesight, where he holds me.
When I’m cried out, Layton sets me on the bench and slides down to one knee and pulls out a small box in iconic robin’s egg blue.
“I’ve already asked, and you’ve already said yes, but you deserve the whole shebang. Livy Morgan, will you marry me?”
“Yes.” Simple and direct, just like the first time.
He pulls a dainty rose gold band with channel set diamonds from the box and slides it onto my finger.
Post-halftime play must’ve resumed because, at that moment, the entire stadium cheers.
We return to the field and share a memory with a friend. She gets her win, and I celebrate my own. “I love Atlanta!” I shout to grumbles and mumbles behind me.
* * *
A week later, we gather at Pop’s for Thanksgiving. As is their tradition, now anyway, Emberleigh’s dad and Eli’s mom come. This year, Bean is with us too. I asked her to come for the weekend, and she obliged.
“Let’s not have a repeat of last year, okay?” Pop states as he passes the mashed potatoes.
“You didn’t like me showing you my abs?” Layton asks, to which the table gives a resounding “No.”
“You know what I’m talking about.” Pop cuts his eyes between Elias and Braxton, who, as it turns out, was his college roommate. I need to ask Layton about that story, especially if it was big enough that this year’s meal came with a warning.
Braxton smoked a brisket, and every time he makes a comment about his meat, Emberleigh goes red in the face and runs to the bathroom. There’s some inside joke there, but I must’ve missed it.
They’ve never announced her pregnancy. I’d expected they would on Layton’s birthday, but the day came and went without so much as a peep as did the days and weeks after that.
Her breasts are fuller, and she looks like she’s about to laugh or puke at all times. I know what I’m looking for, though. It seems to have slipped past the others.
