We return to the bench where our friends are seated. Elle orders us another round. I lean against the back of the bench, my arm draped around Elle, watching the crowd as I nurse my drink.
The air is thick with perfume, sweat, and the expensive bourbon they keep pouring. The mixture of smells makes my head swim. Faces look soft, the edges blurred. When I try to focus on a single person, their features shift slightly, making me blink. I look down and see that my drink is once again empty.
Ty is dancing with Sadie, never straying too far from one another. The orange collar of Ty’s jacket looks like a huge, neon halo reflecting the strobe lights while Sadie’s dress sends fractures of light around her. They dance in rhythm to the music, their bodies instinctively knowing how the other is going to move. It’s hypnotizing.
I tear my gaze away from my best friend and his girlfriend when DJ’s laugh hits me. He is talking to Mack, his hand resting casually on Mack’s sapphire-suited shoulder. Mack is making a point, his expression animated and joyful, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. He’s talking too fast and the music is too loud. I know the conversation is about something important, maybe the parade route, maybe the off-season, maybe the wedding, oh I really hope it’s the wedding!
I look down at Ellie. She’s sipping what looks like water. She’s so smart. I love her so much! I try to articulate a full sentence, but it comes out as a lazy hum.
“You need water, Babe.” Elle’s voice is slightly slurred, but her eyes are bright.
I feel her get up, I’m lamenting the warmth of her body, when I feel the cool water glass being placed in my hand. “Drink up Captain.” She muses.
The rest of night is a blur of colors and heavy bass.
Chapter 62
Elle
The weeks leading up to and following the Super Bowl feel like a fever dream. While the experience is something I’ll cherish forever, I’m grateful to be back in my normal routine. I became slightly more popular amongst the upper elementary kids after my Super Bowl appearance. But all in all, nothing really changed at school, which I am eternally grateful for.
Archer’s off-season means a chance to breathe, and we use it for the best kind of road trip: to meet my newest niece, Rebecca Joycelyn Taylor. She is an adorable 6 lbs, 8 oz, with the tiny, perfect features of a newborn and the lungs of a champion runner. Lungs she seems to use every chance she’s not being held.
We are in my brother’s living room when Archer takes his turn. He moves cautiously, his large hands engulfing the small blanket before he gently lifts her. Rebecca, who has been fussing, settles instantly against the steady warmth of his chest.
Archer looks at me, eyes full of wonder. “Ellie! She’s so tiny!” He whispers.
I feel a sudden, overwhelming, and powerful conviction: I want that. Not now, but maybe two to three years down the line.
“You look good holding that baby.” Nikki smiles. Her eyes tired but full of love for her daughter. She takes a seat across from us on the recliner.
Archer beams at her. His smile is heartbreakingly beautiful. “My niece and nephew were monsters of babies. Both of them were over nine pounds.”
“Poor Mari.” I grimace.
“Bells make big babies.” He jokes.
Remember how I said I wanted a baby before? Yeah. Scratch that. No way in hell, am I pushing out a nine pound baby out of my hooha. Fuck that.
Nikki shoots me a knowing look, and we both burst out laughing. Apparently she was thinking the same thing I was.
Archer is unphased, he continues to coo over my newest niece, already wrapping him around her tiny finger. This trip to my brothers is just what I needed before heading to Nashville with Vi for her bachelorette.
???
The following week Archer is helping me pack for the girls’ trip. He is leaning against my car, as I finish hanging up my clothes I didn’t want to rumple in my suitcaseup in my backseat.
“I might sound like an overprotective boyfriend here, but please text me when you get there.” Archer says. His demeanor calm, the exhaustion from the past few months gone from his eyes.
“Of course,” I say, planting a kiss on his cheek. Vi was sweet enough to plan her bachelorette to coincide with my break, allowing me to take a long weekend without having to ask for any additional time off.
He told me he’s going away to some summit this weekend that is mandatory. I feel a little guilty admitting that I wasn’t listening to where he said it was. But being the closest bridesmaid to Vi physically means a lot of my free time, now that it’s not taken up by football, is being spent preparing for this long weekend.
“Be careful. No hitch hikers.” He jokes.
“I will.” I say, kissing him one last time before getting in my car to pick up Vi. Nashville is maybe a five-hour drive from us, so being good midwestern girls, we decided to drive instead of fly.
The drive down was uneventful, which I am thankful for. I surprised Vi with a sash to wear on our drive. She was soaking up every minute of it. Taking pictures and sending snaps, my perfectly curated bachelorette playlist thrums through my speakers making what could ultimately be the most boring part of the trip enjoyable for all.
