Page 12 of Touched Down
“It’s absolutely right. I didn’t want to go to the bar in the first place, but I went just to offer camaraderie to the team.”
“Camaraderie?” she sneers. “To the team…”
“Yeah, but you should have seen me rushing out of there when I realized how late it was.” I glance around for the silverware. “I’m glad you made breakfast because I’m starving. Look at all of this delicious food.”
I dip my fork into the eggs and bring them to my mouth. I enjoy the morsel of cheese eggs with the perfect amount ofseasoning. The enjoyment is short-lived when I realize Leslie looks like she wants to burn me at the stake.
“You should have told me to meet you where you were. We could have celebrated together. I like to party too, you know?”
Oh hell, here we go again.
She’s about to revisit the sore topic we once agreed on, but now she wants to change.
My head snaps back. “You know that won’t work, Les.”
“Why, Wayne? Why can’t it work?”
“Because I refuse to let these social media vultures eat the one person I love for dinner with their bullshit stories and badgering. Things are perfect now. Why should we change anything?”
“Perfect for who?” she asks incredulously.
“We agreed on this,” I remind her.
“Well, I have changed my mind. We can tell them I’m your friend or whatever you want to tell them, but I want to be with you after the Super Bowl. I know you’ll make it, and I want to at least hug you after the game and be by your side. Stop hiding our relationship!” she fires back.
The fork drops out of my hand with a clank on the plate. “Saying you’re my friend gets the same scrutiny as saying you’re my fiancée.”
“But at least they’ll know you’re spoken for.”
“That’s just it. I don’t care what they know!”
“ButIknow that I’m a secret. Do you care about howIfeel?” Tears well in the corners of her eyes. She knows seeing her tears get to me.
I let out a long sigh. “Of course, I care about your feelings.” I reach to touch her hand, but she pulls it back.
With venom in her eyes, she barks, “Don’t you think I want to be holding a sign in the wives and fiancée section? Do you think I don’t know how to do arts and crafts? I do! I can make a damn sign, Wayne!”
“This isn’t about whether you can make a sign.”
“I wasn’t a pushover when I met you, and I’m not one now. I want you to bring me out of the closet,” she argues.
I let out a light chuckle. “You’re being ridiculous. You’re not in the closet.”
“You’re laughing, but it’s the same thing as being in the closet because you’re hiding me!”
“Okay, listen, I don’t understand why this is a big deal suddenly.”
“It’s been bothering me for a while, but lately, every woman wants to sink her claws into you. I want them to know you’re mine. And I want to be in the wife’s section, jumping up and down with your name tattooed on my body and on the back and front of my shirt, screaming your name, so there will be no doubt about who you belong to.”
“None of that is necessary, Les. Baby, you know that.”
“I do, but what’s wrong with wanting to do the most for you? You’re the QB that’s headed to the playoffs, and I have faith that you’ll make it to the Super Bowl. You’re the best, and you’re mine. I want to show my support.”
I close my eyes and try to imagine this is not how Leslie and I will spend our last few moments together before I go away for two weeks. This cannot be us the day after my team clinches a spot in the playoffs. This time should be the height ofour happiness. We should be having a quicky on the island next to our plates. We shouldn’t be engrossed in an argument about whether to expose our relationship to the media.
I turn in my seat and tug her chin up so I can see so deeply into her eyes that her soul peers back at me. I imagine she can see mine, as well. “Do you want to know how the women in the wives’ section are treated by their men? Terrible. Believe me when I tell you it’s nothing to aspire to be associated with. I know I’m spoken for, and I know who I want. That’s all that matters.”
“Is it?” Her hand is on her hip, and I swear flames are rising from her ears.
