He chuckled. “Stop apologizing. I’m fine. Just a few more seconds. I’m visualizing a family dinner with both of my grandmothers. It’s working wonders.”
I giggled and opened my mouth to say something. Weston held up his hand for me to pause.
“Your voice won’t help me in this process,” he explained as he leaned against the car door to continue his visualization. With a few more seconds and some deep breaths, Weston nodded to me in what I assumed was recovery. He closed the car door and offered me his hand. I let him lead me into the restaurant, completely unprepared by what laid ahead of me.
The restaurant was packedwith what I assumed was its usual pre-game night crowd. It was football weekend so there were heaps of out-of-town visitors staying the night in anticipation of tailgating.
Weston weaved us in and out of the crowd standing outside. Women of all ages stared as he passed them. Much to the disapproval of their husbands or boyfriends, they could barely tear their eyes away. I tried to stick close into Weston’s side, hoping to be hidden from anyone’s nosy eyes. But, of course, being next to him meant there was an unavoidable spotlight hovering. Some women shot me looks of congratulations, while others didn’t even try to hide their disapproval.
“Hi sir,” a small server with a pixie cut greeted once we got to the hostess stand. “How many seats do you need tonight?”
“My party’s here,” he told her with a smile and continued forward. He tugged me behind him into the loud, bustling building. We avoided rushed servers, unruly kids, and misplaced chairs as we made our way to the back where the bouquet room was located. My stomach dropped at just a quick glimpse of the crowd behind those doors.
“Um,” I said as I let go of his hand and stopped walking. Weston couldn’t hear my voice, but he read my expression and got the message.
“Okay.” He nodded. “It’s a lot of people. I should have warned you.”
“Yeah!” I practically yelled. A pair of little girls ran between us with balloons in hand. One hit me in the face and Weston swatted away the second one that would have bounced on my nose.
“It’s my teammates,” he explained as he placed his hands on my shoulders. “You know them. Like some of them, right?”
I nodded. “Dakota?”
“Yeah, Dakota should be here with the rest of them,” he assured. “And then, there are my coaches. Their families. And some of the team's families.”
I gasped. “Is any of your family here?”
He laughed. “Nah, my folks don’t start coming out of the woodwork until people start talking about the professional league.”
I tried to breathe, thankful the added pressure of meeting his family was gone. “You’re that good?”
“I’m alright,” he told me and grabbed my hand again. “Now just try to relax. We don’t have to stay long, okay? We’re going to eat with the coaches. I just need you to see and get a feel.”
“Of?” I squeezed his hand, trying to gather some of his unending strength.
“The snake.”
Chapter 22
Weston ledthe way into the dining hall. We were fashionably late, and an older man made a loud note of this when Weston paused in the entryway.
“Give me one second,” Weston whispered. He squeezed my hand before letting go.
I watched him make his way over to a table of three older men with women I could only assume were their wives. Weston respectfully nodded at the man that chastised him for his lateness. He kneeled on one knee when the guy motioned him closer.
I waited for him a few feet away to give them some privacy and to take in the full room. Young guys dressed business casual filled the tables, yelling across the room to one another. A few girls were here too, but they were vastly outnumbered and looked as though they were bored at having to listen to their boyfriends’ rant about the game tomorrow.
“Hey, Covee.” Dakota appeared at my side. “Welcome to the family dinner.”
I smiled and accepted the hug he offered. “Hey. How are you?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. His hair looked a little unkempt, and he tucked the longer strands behind his ear as he replied, “Nervous. Big game. And this guy hasn’t been where he was supposed to be for the last couple of days, which makes practicing hard.”
Dakota jerked his thumb at Weston and continued, “I’m assuming that has something to do with you? Not judging. I’d skip practice in heartbeat for… um if I had someone.”
The smile on my lips grew a little wider when he took a deep, unsteady breath. Dakota’s skin paled. I tried to think of what made me feel better whenever I got anxious around people. Usually, it was simply the person continuing forward as if they didn’t notice my awkwardness. So, I did just that.
“Can’t take credit for his absence, unfortunately,” I told him with a shrug. I glanced back over at Weston. I haven’t taken full advantage of his ‘beck and call’ offer. If he’d been skipping practices, it wasn’t because of me.
