Page 16 of Made Better Together

Rawley, as affirmation, calls on our motto: “Better together.”

Eden must be here in the mansion by now, but I’m not sure where.

“Johnson and I have to change into our reception outfits,” Grace explains, as the photographer releases us. “You guys can just hang.”

“Okay, awesome,” Landon says before turning to Rawley and me. “C’mon, let’s head into the ballroom area where the tables are set up. See how we can contribute.”

“Good call,” Rawley says. “It sucks that Rori and Avery couldn’t be here, but at least we’re free to do whatever’s needed.” Rori is about to play the finals at Wimbledon and Avery has a game for the Surge.

I’m down to help, and anyway, the person I care about will eventually make her way to the ballroom.

The realization that I’m about to lay eyes on her washes over me, and my chest starts buzzing with anticipation like I’ve drunk too many Red Bulls. The sensation is unexpected, and I push out a long breath to recalibrate.

How does one person hold my interest this way, with so few moments together?

An answer comes quickly. Because you’ve never been able to explore what she is to you, and your curiosity is piqued.

Maybe. Maybe that’s what it is. A multi-year edging experience, with a still-open question tickling my brain.

My attention snaps back to my brothers as we walk into the house via a side entrance near the garden. Landon seems to know where he’s going, so I follow him mindlessly.

“What time is it?” Rawley asks as we go down some stairs that must lead to the ballroom.

“Five minutes or so before they’d planned to bring people downstairs for dinner.” Landon doesn’t even look at his watch. He must have already checked against the schedule we received last week from Grace.

“Perfect. I’m starving,” Rawls responds.

When we enter the ballroom, there are sixteen tables of twelve set up, a dance floor, and a head table for Grace, Johnson, and, I presume, us. Thousands upon thousands of square feet, with a line of windows showcasing the pool and lake along the back wall.

Staff mill around making sure the tables are set, and a DJ is testing speakers by the dance area.

“This is insane,” I blurt out. “It’s like the size of my dining hall at school.”

“Yeah, Johnson spared no expense,” Landon notes. “I guess this place is where a lot of fancy weddings happen.”

“Oh good, you’re all here.” The wedding planner says as she strides across the room. “Grace and Johnson are going to need more time before they enter. Grace said the plan was to have you welcome guests, if that’s okay?”

“Yup,” Landon responds.

“Fabulous. Follow me, if you’re ready?” She guides us to the main entrance, before jetting off to her next duty.

Rawley fidgets a bit with his sleeves. We still have our light gray suit jackets on, and they aren’t uncomfortable, but standing around with nothing to do isn’t easy for him.

“A lot of hurry up and wait, huh?” I observe. “What are you going to be up to in the next two weeks before training camp?” Distracting him and myself is the best way to handle this downtime.

“Well, other than hitting all the home Surge games, and by the way, plan on being my plus one for those,” he says with a wink before continuing, “I’m shooting a commercial, and working on my conditioning so I’m ready for training camp. Once the newlyweds are back from their honeymoon, I’ll practice with Johnson on Forever Field too.”

The regulation football field in Johnson and Grace’s backyard was christened that name—“Forever Field”—when he proposed to her there.

“If I’m your plus one to all these games, I insist we wrangle some cushions or something for those seats.” The metal chairs in the Surge courtside area are brutal.

“I hear you. I’ll ask a certain All-Star about it,” he says with a wink. Rawley’s never shy about praising Avery’s awesomeness, and she’d just been named as a starter for the WNBA All-Stars for the first time.

“Is your commercial shoot in Orl⁠—”

The main doors scrape open, interrupting my question.

“Here we go,” calls the wedding planner behind us, as the DJ starts some festive pop song. “Get in greeting mode, guys.”