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I mean,honestly, there’s nothing like knowing the man I picture every single time I bring out my freshly charged vibrator now knows more about my lackluster—okay, fine, nonexistent—sex life than I ever wanted him too.
I’m not sure humiliated is a strong enough word to describe how I feel.
I can’t seem to shake it.
I spent my twenties as a widow, raising a baby and looking over my shoulder.
I know I don’t have any room to be pissed.
I ghosted him.
It’s not like he knows why, and that was my choice.
I knew back then what he’d have done. After only a few weeks of talking, I knew without a shadow of a doubt the man standing in front of my daughter on the field would have handled everything for me, even if it cost him everything in the process. And I couldn’t let him do that.
But hindsight is twenty-twenty, and Annabelle is right. Karma is a bitch.
Now all I have are memories andwhat ifs.
And damn, thosewhat ifsare the worst.
I don’t regret my choices because they gave me my daughter.
Maybe some nights in the dark of my room and the quiet of my bed, I wish I could have done something differently. But in the light of day, I know I made the choice I had to make for both of us. The thing is... I’ve lived a lifetime since then, and I’m starting to wonder if second chances exist.
* * *
The Kingston box isn’t full tonight.
In all fairness, there was a home game Sunday too, and most of us were here for that one. We decided tonight was a girls’ night. There’s only a few of us spilling out into the stands as the final moments of the fourth quarter count down. We’re down by four, so we need a touchdown to win.
Declan has been marching the team down the field, burning the clock so the other team won’t have time to get the ball back once we score. The girls have been cheering, and everyone has had a good time, but I’m ready for it to be over.
Dec comes back on to the field after a time-out, calls the play, then throws to Watkins.
It’s a beautiful spiral.
The stadium erupts when Watkins runs into the end zone and launches himself up, arms extended, to rip the pass out mid-air, catching the football in what has to be the best pass of the night.
It’s beautiful.
But the celebration is short-lived as the other team’s cornerback crashes his shoulders into Watkins’s knees, making him spin like a pinwheel.
The momentum flips Watkins around, and instead of landing on his feet, he crashes down on his head.
The cornerback gets up, but a collective gasp can be heard throughout the stadium when Watkins doesn’t move.
Maddie stands and links her fingers with mine. “I need to get down there.”
“Maddie, you can’t.” I hold her hand next to me. “Not yet.”
Scarlet immediately has her phone up to her ear as the medics surround Watkins, and everyone in our box and in the stadium waits with bated breath to see if he moves.
Once Scarlet ends the call, she wraps an arm around Maddie. “I know he’s your friend, but you’ve got to let the medics do their thing. The ambulance is waiting to take him to the hospital, and the staff there is waiting for him.”
“Okay.” She looks to me with scared eyes. “I’ll get an Uber.”
“No you won’t...”
