The last time I put eyes on Kaya Hudson, I was 18 years old and on my way to drive over fifteen hours to my new college home in Alabama to play football. I was packing the last few boxes of my things in the back of my car when I spotted her. I’ll never forget the look on her face that day. She was sitting on the front steps of her house, in a pair of cutoff jean shorts, staring daggers through me with her middle finger in the air. She never looked more beautiful.
“I bet it’s been a really long time,” she says sarcastically as she tries to get the server’s attention.
“It has. I was headed off to Alabama, and you gave me one of your infamous middle finger salutes.”
“Real classy, Kay,” Kyle shakes his head.
“It’s a gift,” she retorts.
“Oh, wow, I guess it has been a really long time,” Dena adds.
“Why’d you stay away for so long, Brick?” Kaya asks. “Don’t you like us?”
“Kaya,” Kyle warns.
“No, it’s a valid question,” I say. “Football kept me extremely busy, which was kind of a blessing after grandma died.”
“Football kept you away?” she asks with disbelief.
“Yeah, there’s a lot of moving parts in the NFL and it’s way more political than you think,” I explain. “I have to not only be great on the field, but ownership needs to like me, too.”
“Why?”
“When they like you, they’re less likely to trade you when there’s a bad season and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, sooner or later, everyone has a bad season.”
“But you’d make a lot of money wherever they traded you to, right?”
“It’s not just about the money, Kaya. In fact, that’s never really been my motivation.”
“What is your motivation?”
“I love the game and I want to play it at a high level for as long as I can.”
“Oh, the game,” she says dismissively and now I’m starting to get pissed.
“What do you do for a living?” I ask, since she’s so judgmental.
“Don’t be a dick,” she says angrily.
“Was that an offensive question?” I ask sarcastically.
“What I do for a living has nothing to do with why you never seem to find the time to come back home.”
I turn my head completely around to face her.
“Has my time away from town bothered you that much?”
“Absolutely not, but it sure bothers the hell out of my brother, best man.”
“That’s enough.” Kyle slams his hand against the table, and the entire restaurant turns their heads toward us. “Dena and I brought you both here to tell you this. The two of us might just kill each other over these final wedding preparations and so I had to make an executive decision.”
Kyle is typically a fun-loving, laid back kind of guy. He rarely gets serious like this unless it’s on the football field, so Kaya and I both sit with rapt attention and listen to what he has to say. This must be important.
“This is our wedding day and we’re only doing this once. If we’re going to survive it, I would prefer if neither one of us has to worry about the unimportant details. It’s our day. I want to get dressed, get married and get drunk. So from this moment forward, Dena is going to hand over the wedding planning to you.”
“Wait, what?” Kaya looks panicked.
“Dena already did all the heavy lifting. She’s planned everything down to the last detail. All you have to do is follow the instructions and execute the plan. You’ll be fine.”
