“Because we’re Daddy’s lucky charms!” Maverick screams. Overjoyed, he hugs me like he just won a life supply of Legos, and I squeeze him back with unadulterated glee.
By the time we break apart, I’m crying tears of joy. Partly in reaction to Roman’s secret hand signal to Maverick and me. But mostly because I’m so fucking relieved Roman is having a fantastic game. He doesn’t express doubt or vulnerability very often with me or anyone else. But I know those emotions are in there, somewhere, lurking. Whispering to him. Fueling him, yes. But, also, sometimes, weighing him down. Seeding doubt. Hopefully, this first touchdown as a Thunderbolt is a sign, like Ava is adamantly screaming now, of all the fantastic things to come for Roman this upcoming season.
Luca nudges my shoulder. “You and Maverick were just on TV. My buddy just texted me.”
“When?”
“While you were hugging about the touchdown.”
I sigh with relief. If the world was going to get a glimpse of me at this game tonight, as Roman predicted, I’m thrilled the camera caught me celebrating Roman’s first touchdown as a Thunderbolt,anddoing it with Roman’s adorable son. In fact, I couldn’t have orchestrated a better moment for the world to take stock of me, as Roman’s girlfriend, if I’d tried.
“Commercial break,” Luca says. He flops into his chair, so I do the same and take a long slug of my cocktail. A moment later, however, as I’m leaning forward to chat with Nicola and Ava down the row, someone taps me on my shoulder from behind.
“Excuse me,” a female voice says.
I turn around to find a smiling, lovely woman with a little girl of about ten in the space behind my seat. “Sorry to bother you,” the lady says, “but you’re the runaway bride from the video, right?”
My stomach revolts. It’s the first time in a long while anyone’s recognized me, thanks to news cycles being lightning fast these days. I thought I was done with this.
“I hope it’s okay to ask,” the woman continues when my tongue is too tied to speak. “But my daughter is hoping to take a selfiewith you. I’ve always told her how important it is to stick up for herself, no matter what, and when we saw your video, we felt like you were a great role model of a strong woman doing exactly that.”
My skin erupts with goosebumps, as my heart leaps and bounds inside my chest. Of all the things this woman might have said to me, I never in a million years could have foreseen that. “Thank you,” I choke out. “That means a lot.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Ava pipes in, leaning into the conversation from two seats down.
“Hell yeah,” Luca adds with a squeeze of my shoulder.
“Uh, yes,” I say, rising from my seat. “I’d be honored to take a selfie. Thank you for asking.” I don’t know who she is. But if she’s in Roman’s box, I’m guessing she’s someone important, which is all the more reason to feel relieved and excited about her request.
I get up on unsteady legs and lean in for the smiling shot, and both mother and daughter thank me profusely before giving me a hug and politely walking away and slipping out the door of the box.
When they’re gone, Ava grabs me and pulls me into a hug before I return to my seat.
“That was the daughter and granddaughter of the team owner!” she whispers into my ear.
“Oh, wow. How exciting.”
Ava takes my face in her soft palms. “I’m so proud of you, love. And so happy for me.” When I cock my head, not understanding her meaning, Ava smiles and explains, “Happy that my son hasfinallyfound the perfect woman to bring into our family.”
Chapter 35
Roman
Three Weeks Later
The fact thatIris’s birthday tomorrow falls smack in the middle of my bye week is a godsend. It means I’ve got a few well-timed days off to celebrate the Birthday Girl.
Tomorrow, on Iris’s actual birthday, I’m throwing her a dinner party with close friends, family, and teammates at a famous sushi restaurant in Malibu. Today, in advance of the official party, however, we’re celebrating Iris’s big day in a much quieter way: by enjoying a relaxing horseback ride and picnic with Maverick.Or so Iris thinks.Little does Iris know, today’s also the day she’sfinallygoing to become my fiancée. Assuming she says yes. God help me if she doesn’t.
Like I told my Council of Advisors at my housewarming party six weeks ago, I’m a new man this season. Happy and relaxed, not a dick at all. I’m still as competitive as ever on the field—as the Thunderbolts’ four-and-one record thus far undeniably proves—but the difference this time around is I’ve managed that winning record without flogging and torturing myself, like I’ve always done in the past.
Even after that one loss a few weeks ago, I bounced back fairly quickly and didn’t take things out on myself or anyone else, including Iris. Am I determined never to lose again this season? Hell yes. But the point is I didn’t lose my fucking mind, as usual, and make myself and everyone else around me miserable in the wake of that loss. I simply put the bad week and my contributing mistakes behind me and looked ahead, productively, to our nextgame, like all the sport psychologists who’ve ever tried to crack my stubborn walnut have always harped on me to do.
“It’s perfect weather for a picnic,” Iris murmurs as we get situated on our thick blanket.
When Maverick struggles to unwrap his sandwich, Iris deftly handles the task for him, at which point Maverick takes it back and attacks his lunch with gusto.
“I love it!” Maverick blurts after his first bite, prompting both Iris and me to chuckle and exchange a look of shared adoration for the kid. I’ve always been more than a little bit jealous that Vanessa’s husband, Jay, gets to spend so much quality time with my son. And now, here I am, experiencing fatherhood the way I’ve always imagined and envied. Actually, sitting here now, I’d bet my entire bank account my life with Maverick and Iris is better than anything Jay’s ever experienced in his entire damned life.
