"You mean like fighting for the last Texas Twinkie?" I ask.
"Exactly."
"Or like everyone coming to my defense to make sure I wasn't humiliated? Because... in my opinion, that's the kind of family I need. Now show me your moves," I say, grinning from ear to ear.
When it's over, Greyson stands by J.D. and Birdie, pulling me into him. "Dad, when did you learn how to dance like that?"
"Your mother made me learn for our wedding, and I wanted your mother to have more than an empty seat beside me in memoriam... I wanted her to be here."
Greyson fights the tears threatening to strangle him, but he allows one to fall.
Giving Mr. O'Ryan a peck on the cheek, I say, "Thank you for giving Greyson and me a part of her for our wedding."
The guys get pulled away for a photo with the team while Birdie makes sure I get fed. "I didn't get to eat at my wedding, and I want to make sure you get some food so youhave the energy to... have an endless amount of loving tonight." We giggle and look around like we're teenagers.
We look over and see Noelle and her boyfriend, Brooks, arguing. They've been on and off for a couple of years, but it's clearly coming to an end. She storms off, heels clacking against the barn floor. "Should we go after her?" Birdie asks.
I nod, and we weave through the crowd, stopping to thank everyone for coming and taking photos. Looking back to where Brooks was, I see he's gone to the dance floor with Rosalie from Human Resources. I mumble under my breath, "What a complete tool."
Birdie says, "He'll learn. Those were our husbands at one point."
"No, because our husbands never had real girlfriends. They were players."
"True."
Noelle's being comforted by Parker, and Witt is standing there, completely out of his element. "Noelle, what happened?"
"He's an asshole."
Birdie puts her hands on Noelle's face. "You go inside and find the first handsome man you see. Drag him to the dance floor, paste a smile on your face, and act like you're having the time of your life. Do you understand?"
Noelle nods, and Birdie wipes away her tears. I take a deep breath. "I agree with Birdie. Make him understand what he's missing. There are fifty-two football players here, most of whom are single, and you're beautiful."
Noelle straightens, popping her lips and gathering her confidence. "We're right behind you."
She stops at the edge of the dance floor, grabs Coach Stricker's hand, and pulls him onto the dance floor.Birdie and I look at each other, shocked. Noelle acts like she's having a good time. "Well, I meant one of the players in their twenties, not an old man."
"How old is Coach Stricker?" Birdie asks.
"Not sure. Late thirties, early forties."
"Damn, we're in trouble. J.D. and Greyson are going to go ballistic."
I search the room for Greyson and find him eating a cupcake with Paulina, so I dance my way to them as different players swing me around. "Having fun?" my husband asks.
"It's like a fairy tale, and I'm just hoping I don't turn into a pumpkin soon." Paulina giggles. "How about we dance as a family?"
We have guardianship of Paulina now, but we'll start the official adoption process now that we're married.
"A daddy-daughter-mommy dance. I like it." Greyson grins, holding me tight with one arm and Paulina against his other side while she holds my hand.
Greyson is lost in my eyes, then leans down to kiss Paulina on the top of the head. When the song is over, he notices Coach Stricker and Noelle dancing without any music. His brows furrow, and I step in front of him. "Birdie and I told her to dance with someone because Brooks is being an ass."
"Don't worry, I'm not going to ruin our wedding, but if his hand so much as slips into the wrong area or I can't fit a football between them, he'll be asked to leave."
Expelling a long breath, I add, "He's become one of our best friends. You love him."
"Yeah, as a friend, but not for my college-aged sister. Nope. Not happening."
I cup his cheeks and peer into his eyes. "It's just a danceto make that asshole jealous and to make him understand that he can't be hot and cold with her."
"Okay, I trust you. How much longer do we have to stay at our wedding?" he asks, winking at me.
"All night long."
"No," he groans, placing a kiss on the crown of Paulina's head. "I have practice on Monday, and we're both going to need to rest tomorrow."
I remind him, "You're the one who wanted to get married between the conference championship and the Super Bowl."
"I'm going to win it for you—the best damn general manager in football and the most caring and loving wife in the world. Babe, this is living. This is having it all."
