Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
After returning from Texas last Thanksgiving, we confessed all to them because we knew they’d keep it secret. They’d been surprisingly understanding; Monica especially, having shrugged and said that’s Hollywood.
As for the rest of the world, we’re having a long engagement. Not that I think many people care much anymore. They’re hung up on my Super Bowl win right now. Mainly because I made history by becoming the first rookie quarterback to ever win. Some days it doesn’t seem real. Other days, it doesn’t really matter. The only game that counts is the one you’re playing. The past is just that.
“Jelly’s good.” I leaf through the movie posters and pause at a familiar one. “The Lord of the Rings?”
“I consider that the Luck family movie.”
I laugh, feeling nostalgic about it now. “True.” Curious, I keep looking through the other ones. But it’s not a movie poster that has my hand stilling. Heart in my throat, I lift my head. “What’s this?”
But I know. I just can’t believe . . .
Pen moves to my side and looks at the framed photo blown up poster size. It’s of me backlit by the stadium lights, hair slick with sweat, arm upraised in victory and holding my helmet as I shout my joy at an equally joyous group of teammates.
“I love that photo.” She leans against my arm with a soft smile.
“I didn’t think you would be so into my games. But I love that you are now.”
Shaking her head as though I’m being ridiculous, she then looks up at me. “Pickle?”
“Yeah?” My attention is divided between her and the photo.
“I’ve watched every game you ever played.”
Though softly spoken, her words slam into me, and I’m left unsteady.
“What?”
Deep brown eyes hold mine calmly. “Every game. Ever.”
“I . . . You . . . Really?”
At that, she walks to the desk and picks up her phone, thumbing the screen as she comes back to me. From over her shoulder, I peer at the phone as she finds a folder entitled “AugustGames.”
“Here.” She hands me the phone.
I’m clumsy with it, unable to get my fingers to work at first. But then I scroll through the images saved. And something inside me breaks open. Years of articles, pictures saved, stats. She has it all. Emotion wells up from deep in my chest.
“I kept these as well.” She’s holding a shoebox filled with papers.
My hands shake as I accept the box. I swear, I’ve got to sit down. But I hold it together and examine the contents. Shock bolts through my chest as I riffle through old ticket stubs from my middle and high school games. A program from homecoming. Little pieces of my career lovingly saved.
My gaze darts to Penelope.
“I told you.” She shrugs with a small smile. “I’ve loved you all my life. Your games have always meant something to me.”
Slowly but deliberately, I set down the phone and the box, then reach for her. I wrap her up tight and hold her as close as possible. For a long moment, I simply breathe her in. I don’t know what to say. I’ve never felt this . . . loved.
“Pen,” I finally manage. “You’re going to make me cry.”
She gives me a squeeze, then pats my chest. “It’s okay, big guy.”
It pulls a laugh from me. I haul her up and head for the stairs. I don’t stop until we’re both lying in bed. The oval of her face beams with happiness as she looks back at me. Again, comes that strange sensation of buoyancy.
“Sometimes it doesn’t feel real.” I take her hand. “Like maybe I’m in a coma somewhere, dreaming this all up.”
The corners of her eyes crinkle. “You know, I had the same thought a couple of times since we got together. Either that or I’m in an alternate reality.”
We laugh about it for a second, then fall into contented silence. But my mind is moving ahead again. I’ve been holding back for months now with increasing difficulty. After seeing the pieces of my life lovingly saved by her, I can’t do it anymore.
The tip of my thumb catches the edge of the ring on Pen’s slender finger and toys with it. “Looks good on you, Pen.”
Inside, my heart is pounding hard and insistent. While she simply smiles fondly.
“You should have seen the way May and June gaped. They were convinced it was your grandmother’s ring.”
“Because it is.”
Surprise has her gaze shooting to mine. “I wondered but I didn’t think . . . How did you get it so fast?”
I shrug, pretending I’m calm. But I’m not. “I always had it.”
“What?” It comes out in a squeak.
Ah, but the way she continues to be surprised by my love for her. One day she won’t. I want all the days.
“That day, when you were hurt,” I tell her. “After your mom took you to the doctor, I went to see Nanna Linda in the den. I told her what had happened, said with great authority that I wanted to marry you, but I needed a ring.”