* * *
“Is this seat taken?”
Turning, I looked up from my plate and gave Dean a little wave. My mouth was too full to do more than that at the moment.
“I’ll take that as a no.” He set down his own plate—which was just as overflowing as mine, thank you very much—and dropped into the chair. “How did you get a head start on the food?”
I finished chewing and swallowed. “Mom and I just happened to get here before the coaching staff and the team. The serving staff took pity on the poor starving pregnant lady and let us go through the buffet first.”
“Well, that was nice of them.” Dean sat back in his seat and let his eyes wander over me. “Wow, look at you.”
I felt my face go hot. This was the first time I’d worn legit maternity clothes around Dean; I’d been getting away with sweats, leggings and oversized hoodies and sweaters whenever we were together.
But tonight, I’d made a real effort to reclaim the old Willow, the woman who loved to dress up and knew how to look her best. My soft wool dress was a deep magenta, and its scoop neckline showed off my impressive pregnancy rack and skimmed over my bump. The hemline hit my legs just above the knee, and I’d dug out a pair of my favorite black boots to complete the ensemble. My hair was down in loose waves that complimented a face that was fuller these days, thanks again to my knocked-up status.
I’d even put on makeup, which was something I hadn’t done in months. No wonder Dean was looking at me like I was a new woman.
“Oh, you know, I hear that this is a big weekend, so it seemed wrong to wear my old sweatpants,” I deadpanned. “I thought putting in a little effort wasn’t a bad thing.”
“I don’t know how much effort all of this took, but I can tell you that I approve.” His gaze lingered on my chest for just the briefest moment—just enough to flatter me without coming off like a perv. “Really, Willow. You’re gorgeous.”
I dropped my attention back to my plate. “You’re very sweet, Dean. Thank you.”
“It’s just the truth.” Dean unfolded his napkin into his lap and picked up his fork. “How are you feeling?”
“Now that I’ve gotten some food, I’m just dandy.” I sipped my water. “Mom and I had an uneventful drive down. We have a lovely suite here . . . and hey, it’s pretty awesome to be looking at different scenery. I haven’t been to Philadelphia for a long time.”
“Do you know that I’d never been to this city before my first Army-Navy game back when I was a plebe? I was like a wide-eyed farm boy, looking up at all of the buildings.” Dean chuckled.
“We used to take the train into Philadelphia a couple of times a year when I was in college. Just to shop or go to restaurants or clubs.” That felt like a different lifetime ago, as though it had happened to an entirely different person. Thinking about it made me sad, so I quickly changed the subject.
“So this Army-Navy thing—it’s a pretty big deal, I hear.”
Dean cast me a reproving look. “Please. You know it is. This is the game we most anticipate and dread all year. It really doesn’t matter how the rest of our season went—Navy isthegame. The big one.”
“Yeah, I don’t get that.” I shook my head. “Why is it such a big deal?”
“Because we are rivals. As they always say, someday soon, we’ll all be brothers in arms, defending our country, but this weekend, we meet on the field of strife and play to the very last drop of blood.”
“That sounds dramatic,” I commented. “It’s a football game, pal. At the end of the day, someone will win and someone will lose. And life goes on afterward.”
“Easy for you to say,” Dean retorted, buttering his roll. “Winning or losing does affect the entire corps of cadets, especially the plebes. You probably know that plebes—freshman in the civilian world—have it the toughest at West Point. The way they walk to and from classes, the restrictions on their freedoms, what they have to learn and get used to—it’s overwhelming. If Army loses this game, a lot of frustrations are taken out on the plebes. They’re going to get snapped at, and lots of upperclassman become more particular about how duties are done. But if—correction,whenArmy wins tomorrow, everything will ease up a little for the poor plebes. The upperclassman will relax some of the rules or at least they won’t be so demanding. Everything at West Point is a little brighter in December if we bring home a victory.”
“Huh. I didn’t know any of that. Now it does make a little more sense to me why everyone gets so crazy about this game.” I reached for my salad and slid it a little closer to me. “Are you going to win?”
“Hell, yeah,” Dean answered without hesitation. “We’re going to pound those sailors into the turf at the Linc. No question.”
I lifted my fork in salute. “Okay, then. Good to know.”
“Want to know some other fun stuff about Army-Navy?”
I lifted one shoulder. “I guess so. I have some time to kill. Lay it on me, pal.”
“All right.” Dean took a bite of his roll, his eyes on me as he chewed it slowly. “Do you know why we’re playing in Philadelphia?”
“Nope.”
“Because it’s neutral ground, halfway between Annapolis and West Point. Almost all of the games have been played here since 1899, but a few have happened in other places, including Pasadena, California, Chicago, Giants Stadium in East Rutherford, and Baltimore.”
