We’re in the air and it’s tense. Ever since I broke the news about coming back, we’ve been mirroring weird smiles at each other. The tight kind that have too many teeth in them to be honest. The pageant grins started after I broke the news about needing to come back early. But I don’t think that’s why Nora’s smile is painted on like Travel Barbie.
My mind likes to kick me in the shins, to tell me she’s regretting everything now that we’re getting back to the real world, and run off with my favorite backpack. It’s a little shit and it’s doing this on a loop. But we’ve shared so much over the last week. There’s no way she can be having second thoughts. Right? Because I’m not. Then again, I wasn’t the one who left the first time either.
Shit, just talk to her about it, Derek.
The closer we get to L.A., however, the more dread settles into my stomach. After wheels down, I pretty much have to hit the ground running. First up is the hospital to check on Price and Hope. And then I have a million and two things to do before training camp starts in a week. I have several intense bodywork sessions scheduled to make sure everything is limber and ready to go for the intense rigor of the NFL season. Because once it begins, my life becomes devoted to football again and my body won’t feel one hundred percent from then until next offseason (or until I get benched if I play like shit).
When we land at LAX, I get some good news in a text from Price:
Meet Jayla Price. 6 Lbs 2 oz. Healthy and strong like her mom.
An anchor lifts from my chest while reading that text. I don’t know a lot about babies or birth—so I had no idea what to expect. Especially after hearing Price’s shaky voice last night tell me Hope was in labor early. So this is good. (Understatement of the year.) It’s great. And I feel antsy to get off the damn plane, get a minute of privacy with Nora to ask her why we look like two ventriloquists talking through our teeth, and then to take my wife with me to the hospital to officially hang out with my friends.
Doubt creeps in. Maybe she doesn’t want you to think of her as your wife.
Why the hell didn’t we nail all this down in Cancún? I hate the uncertainty.
Once we’re off the plane, Nora and I wait in baggage claim surrounded by people tossing not-so-subtle glances my way every few seconds. Nora’s bright yellow suitcase comes around and I step up to haul it off the belt, but she beats me to it. Her movements are choppy and agitated, pulling her suitcase down like she’s practicing for a professional hay-baling competition. But when she looks up at me—bing, I’m treated to a megawatt fake smile again. This is weird as shit.
“Nora,” I say once our bags are in hand and we’re finally leaving the airport. “Can we talk about—” I cut off when we step through the sliding doors. The smoggy L.A. air pummels us, and my career grabs me by the neck.
“Shit,” I hiss after seeing the small mob of media waiting for us just past the doors—most likely someone who saw us at the Cancún airport tipped them off to our departure back to L.A. I’m not ready for this. We’re not ready for this. I don’t even know if we’re actually a we at this point and I don’t like the idea of facing cameras and reporters with that uncertainty between us.
I glance at Nora, and she only appears caught off guard for a second before I watch her agent mode slip over her like a second skin. She smiles up at me, and my shoulders relax a little when it doesn’t look painted on. “I
hope you put your makeup on today, Pender, because it looks like you’re about to get your picture taken. Stay behind me.”
I swear. This woman who has had zero security training being willing to walk in front of me to take the brunt of any potential trouble is the sweetest damn thing I’ve ever seen.
“I appreciate your sacrifice, but I’d rather have you beside me than as my bodyguard.” I hold out my hand to her. “Ready?”
Hesitation creases her forehead, but she eventually nods and links her fingers with mine. I feel them curl all the way around my heart. For a brief second, worry dissipates and it’s just me and Nora with our whole lives ahead of us.
I glance at the gathered media and recognize most of the journalists. They’re obnoxious but not a threat to our safety. Nora and I are both wearing hats (hers says Go, Mac and Cheese!), tugged low over our eyes so the cameras don’t catch our expressions as we walk through the crowd.
We walk double time, suitcases bobbing over cracks and bumps in the pavement like a ski boat chopping through waves in the ocean. It feels wrong to not acknowledge other humans, and even worse to just plow through them without stopping, but that’s the nature of this business. If you stop, you get ambushed. If you get ambushed, you almost always say something you regret. And on the heels of an injury that I haven’t publicly discussed yet and a marriage that started in Vegas while drunk—it feels way too probable.
We’re halfway through and my grip around Nora’s hand is lock tight.
That’s when I start to register the questions.
“Derek! Derek! Over here! Is it true you married your agent?” “Nora! What led to your spontaneous elopement with Derek?”
“Is it true you didn’t sign a prenup?” It never ceases to scare me how these people get such personal information.
Most of the questions are all in the vein of the elopement. A few make me angry on Nora’s behalf as they start questioning the integrity of her position and whether she’s going to fraternize with all of her clients like she has with me. She must feel me about to respond because her gaze shoots up
to me and she smiles. “Don’t do it, big guy. I know who I am—you don’t need to defend me right now.”
I nod, forcing some of my anger to dissolve.
We’ve almost made it through the media cloud and are at the door of the waiting, blacked-out SUV Nora scheduled when I hear it:
“Derek! Can you comment on the rumor that the Sharks are officially cutting you in favor of Abbot?”
I freeze.
“Some people are speculating that taking time off from training to go on a honeymoon shows carelessness for your career in a time when you should have been doubling down on your training. What do you have to say to that?”
Several more similar questions fly at me like hornets. Each stinging in a different way. All saying they’ve heard from a source that my career is officially in jeopardy.
I don’t even realize that I’m just frozen staring at the SUV until Nora wraps her arm around my waist and discreetly tugs, reminding me to keep moving. In my peripherals as I’m loading into the SUV, I watch Nora turn and address the media. Even though she has every right to feel as bombarded and cornered as me, she is every inch the professional agent. Her tone is set to dazzle.
“This was so sweet to throw us a welcome home party! But we weren’t expecting company, so you’ll have to give us a raincheck. In the meantime, we’re registered at Target and my favorite color is pink!” she says playfully with a wink, making everyone laugh and proving she was born for this. Leaving a bewitched crowd in her wake, Nora climbs into the SUV behind me and shuts the door.
Only then does her smile slip as she sinks back against the seat, taking a deep breath. I guess I should do that too—breathe—but my lungs are full of sand. This shouldn’t come as a huge surprise since everyone in the media has been talking about it, but this is the first time I’ve heard any sort of supposed confirmation of me being cut. And it turns out that no amount of preparing myself to hear those words did anything to lessen the burn of it.
“It makes sense for them to cut me,” I say in a daze as I stare out the window, feeling those old insecurities hover over me like shadows. You’re not good enough and you never will be. Now you have nothing.
“Don’t say that,” Nora snaps. There’s urgency and something else in her tone. Protectiveness, I realize. “Those gossip columnists don’t know what they’re talking about. It’s rumors, that’s all. If any decisions had been made, management would have contacted me first.”
My eyes are trained out the window. Sunshine and blue skies feel bitter. “But they’ve leaked it to the press before. This wouldn’t be the first time they put it out there unofficially to drum up buzz around the team. Around the new star player they want to highlight.”
“You and Nathan are their star players! They’re not going to cut you.”
“Unless I suck,” I say, finally rolling my head in her direction. I know I’m being moody and unreasonable. I’m like a teenager with his hood up.
Nora knows it too because she sits up straighter and smiles tauntingly at me. “Okay, fine. Are we officially giving up on football already?”
“Seems like the reasonable decision.” “You could go into finance.”
I grimace. “Too sedentary.”
“Well…you have a fine body.” She gestures to said body, which is slumped over in my seat.
I shrug like the consolation prize isn’t enough. “Thank you.”
“How do you feel about stripping? I bet you’d make some real money if you started your routine in your uniform and pads. I’d pay to see it for sure.”
“That’s nice of you,” I say with a sad smile. “But it’ll never work. I can’t gyrate.”
“Well, not with that attitude!” She toes her shoe against my knee. “But with a good teacher and a can-do spirit, I believe that you, Derek Pender, will be able to gyrate your hips and make your penis wave to a crowd like it’s the queen of England!”
I love Nora.
I want to tell her too. But this doesn’t feel like the right moment. And why the hell didn’t I say it in Cancún? I thought I made my feelings clear, but the more I replay everything we said, the more I realize how vague it actually is. She knows I’ve always had feelings for her. But love? Never said it. Commitment? Was scared to even think it in case she heard it whisper in my mind and bolted for the door.
She shifts closer to me now and grasps my jaw, tugging my face to look at her. “Believe in yourself, Derek. And I don’t just mean on the field or on the Magic Mike stage. Believe that no matter what happens, you’re going to be okay. You’re strong, determined, and a hell of a good time in the sheets.” She grins playfully, and the tightness in my chest loosens. “You’re not alone. You’re not a kid anymore, facing obstacles without help. And this career is not all you have or all you are. Not even close.”
Her face softens and she slowly leans in to brush her lips over mine. It’s the first real contact we’ve had since last night. I need this—and she senses it. Her lips press into mine over and over until my mouth softens.
“Breathe,” she whispers, and I breathe in deeply through my nose for the first time since we boarded the plane this morning. She knows how to unwind me—and just as I’m reaching to tangle my hands in her hair, she pulls away, lips swollen and dark pink.
“But as your agent,” she begins in an altogether different tone. I like getting a taste of what everyone else gets from Nora Mackenzie too. “I need you to know, I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you don’t lose this job you love until you’re ready. You saved my ass, and now I’m going to save your deliciously firm butt cheeks too.”
I nod. “Thank you, Nora.”
“Of course. What is a friend-slash-agent-slash-accidental wife for!” Her grin softens. “Go to the hospital and be with your friends today. Try not to worry about any of this work stuff and I’ll go to the office and sort it all out.”
Wait. She’s not going with me to the hospital? The tightness in my chest coils up again.
“I thought you were going with me to see the baby.” There’s no way to say that without sounding miserable and clingy.
“I want to. But I need to get to the office and figure out what’s going on.
Is that okay?”
I stare into her green-gold eyes for a beat, emotions tugging me both ways. This is the first moment we’ll separate since we got married. The first moment that real life will try to rip us down the middle. Last time that happened, I lost her. Anxiety fizzes in my stomach like a carbonated soda. I don’t want to lose her. But I can’t sink my teeth into her and refuse to let go either. I’ve got to give her space and find some trust if this is going to work. Plus, she’s my agent. She has to do her job. I’m just now realizing, though, how tricky this is going to be going forward.
After an awkward amount of time, I answer, wishing it were honest, “Of course it’s okay.”
My ventriloquist smile is back, and as I hold her hand in the car, I can’t help but run my thumb over the little black tattoo on her finger, wishing we’d spent a little less time talking about our past on our honeymoon and more about our future.
—
When I enter the hospital, I check in at the front desk and am told my friends are all gathered in a private waiting room and given instructions on how to get there. It’s pretty typical to be given a room off to the side anywhere we go because when me and the guys are all together (especially with Nathan present), we tend to garner a lot of attention. Attention the hospital probably doesn’t care to have.
I open the door to the waiting room expecting to find a somber environment, because we were all up the entire night waiting to hear word about Hope and the baby. I am dead wrong.
All I get is a glimpse of long curly hair before I’m grabbed by the wrists and tugged abruptly inside the room, where a shower of confetti rains down on my head. All the guys plus Bree cheer and whoop at the same moment
that Nathan pops a bottle of hospital-appropriate sparkling grape juice and the Bruno Mars song “Marry You” ignites through the portable speakers.
I feel like I’m experiencing this moment through a funhouse mirror. Or high on an edible.
“Mr. and Mrs.—” Bree cuts off suddenly with a scowl. She’s holding a tacky veil attached to a hair clip in her hand.
I grin at the veil. “Is that for me?”
Everyone’s smiles fall when they realize my “other half” is not in attendance.
“Where the hell is Nora?” Nathan asks with something close to a glare.
Like maybe I forgot her in the car or something.
Price crosses his arms. “Dammit, Derek, did y’all already break up? Is this because you cut the honeymoon short? I told you not to—”
“Would you shut up for a second and let me hug you?” I say, walking up to Price. His arms go around me the second mine extend to him. We’ve hugged before—after winning a big game mainly. But this is different. Price doesn’t let go of me right away and I don’t let go of him. He hugs me like a brother. Like a brother whose life has just changed for the better and he wants me to feel the terror and wonder swirling around in him. I hang on until he’s ready to let go.
“I’m a dad,” he mumbles into my shoulder, and emotion rips through me. I’m grateful I’m here for this.
“Hell yeah you are,” I say, squeezing him harder. “And you’re married.”
“Hell yeah I am.” I chuckle. “Sort of.” We pull apart and I eye the mess around me. “Speaking of, what is all this?” I ask Nathan when he steps up to hug me next and then Lawrence after him. You’d think I was the one who just had a baby. Bree is still put out that Nora isn’t here.
“It’s a wedding reception,” says Nathan. “Or it was supposed to be if you’d bothered to bring your wife.”
Bree slaps my arm. “For real. Where is she? Did you break up?” “You guys have zero faith in me.”
“Because you’re a big baby,” Jamal says from the side of the room with a grin while holding a teddy bear the size of his body.
“Tamara finally get sick of you and leave you to your girlfriend?” I say, nodding toward the bear.
He flips me the bird. “This is my epic present for Jayla. Tamara and Cora are up there with Hope right now lavishing her with take-out food.” Jamal smirks at me. “I see you came empty-handed like a dipshit.”
“I literally just landed back in L.A. And what’s a baby supposed to do with that monstrosity? It’ll smother her.”
“Enough!” snaps Bree with a clap of her hands—clearly used to gaining the attention of children when she needs it. A spark enters Nathan’s eyes because he loves when Bree goes into teacher mode. Unable to help himself, he falls in behind her and wraps his arms around her middle as Bree says, “I’m only going to ask you this one last time. Where is my new best friend? We threw this little party so she’d feel welcome and she’s not even here to see it.”
I can’t help but smile. They did this for Nora—so she’d feel welcome.
Because they’re my family and Nora is my family now too.
“She would have loved to be here, and see this,” I say honestly. She really would have gobbled this shit up. Nora loves nothing more than outward expressions of joy. “But she needed to get to work to save my ass.” They all frown. “We were met at the airport by a media circus. They seemed to think I’m…about to be cut from the team.”
A heaviness settles over the room at my words.
Surprisingly, Jamal sets down the bear and is the first to say something heartfelt. “They’d be idiots, then. Surely they’re going to at least give you a shot to play first?”
I shrug. “That’s what Nora is going to find out.”
No one is ready to acknowledge quite yet that I may no longer be a Shark. Although I have to admit, I think I’m starting to come to terms with the idea more every second. Being here today, hugging Price, and seeing what all my friends did to make Nora feel welcome—it has nothing to do
with me being a Shark. They’re my family. No matter where life takes us, we’ll always be close.
Nathan thankfully changes the subject. “We could FaceTime her and do it all over again if you want? So she can see it.”
I consider it briefly and then disregard the idea. Whether it’s because I’m truly respecting her space or because I feel awkward as hell after the way we parted is a toss-up. “Nah—I don’t want to bug her at work today.”
“I doubt you’d be bugging her,” says Lawrence.
But all I can think about is how in college, I didn’t see that she needed space. I didn’t prioritize her success. I always interrupted her to see the cool thing or go to the fun place with me. And those things pushed her away the first time; I’m sure as hell not going to pick up my phone and FaceTime her an hour after parting from a weeklong trip.
And that’s when I feel it—all the little fractures cracking through our fragile little relationship. Damn, I need to talk to her later. Awkward or not, we’ve got things to figure out.
In the meantime, I snap photos of everything to show her later.
Price squints in the direction of my ankles. “We really gotta find out what’s happening with your pants, man.”
