Shifting behind me, Chase clears his throat. “If I had to guess, he won’t be there.”
I can tell by his tone Chase’s uncomfortable, so I change the subject. “So what’s your ideal wedding time frame? These things take years to pull together, so we need to hit the ground running when we get home. What are you thinking? Next off-season?” I tap my finger on my chin. “But with your contract up at the end of the season, that’s really bad timing. You need your head completely in the game. No distractions. I think we should hold off and look at the off-season after that.”
“For what?” he asks, his tone noticeably lighter.
“The wedding.”
He lifts me off his lap and scoots back, putting space between us. Then he turns me around so I’m facing him. His eyes look as if they’re about to pop out of his head. “Two years? You want to wait two years?”
“I don’t want to, but logistically speaking, I’m not sure we have much of a choice. The press is going to hound us like crazy. This isn’t the time for that.”
Crimson creeps up his neck, a tell-tale sign he’s getting irritated. “I will not allow the press to dictate our lives.”
“It’s not that simple. Not only will they be in our faces all the time, but we’ll have to deal with all the rumors. They’ll try to split us up. If I stand too close to the guy in front of me in line at the grocery store, it’ll be all over the front pages that I’m having an affair with some mystery man. There’ll be accusations of you cheating on me while you’re on the road. You’ve seen how many celebrity relationships break up from the strain of living under the oppressive weight of the press’s watchful eye. It’ll be ugly. You can’t afford that kind of distraction in a contract year. Every misstep, every under-thrown pass, every interception, the press will think you’re buckling under the pressure of your off-the-field troubles. It will make everyone question your strength and your value, and that’ll impact your contract. We need to wait. The smart thing to do is wait.”
“We’ve waited far too long already. I’m not waiting another two years to get married. It’s not an option.”
I can tell from his tone he’s going to be stubborn about this. “What’s your plan then? When’s the right time?”
“How does tonight sound?”
I gently elbow him in the stomach. “Very funny.”
“Do you think I’m joking? I’m one hundred percent serious. If we had an internet connection, I’d have one of these guys get ordained in the Church of Whatchamacallit, and I’d marry you right here, right now. Hell, I almost asked you if you wanted to stop in Vegas on the way here, but I didn’t want to push my luck.”
“Ha! Was it that, or were you afraid to face your mother? It was bad enough we didn’t see them before we left. Had we gotten engaged and married without her, she would have slaughtered us.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, that may have had something to do with it. But my point is, I don’t want to wait. Can’t we plan something fast? I hate to bring this up, but Jenna planned that whole shindig in, like, three weeks. If she did it, we can do it a million times better.”
Did he really just suggest I be more like Jenna? Sure, she put a wedding together in three weeks. Mentally unstable people can be highly efficient. Delusions are motivating.
“It’s not that simple,” I reply. “When we get back, we have four jam-packed weeks before you have to report to training camp. I’ll be back and forth to New York to meet with Ralph Lauren about the clothing line. There’s a huge meeting with the Aldrich Foundation board I have to prepare for. I’ve committed to a number of shifts at Huckleberry House and I’ve signed up to help with their fundraiser. On top of that, I have to work with the Discovery Channel on the documentary for this project. I don’t see how I can do all of that and plan and execute a wedding. On top of that, do you really want to get married, then run off to training camp the next day? There’s no way they’ll let their star quarterback come home every night just because he eloped the day before camp. And you do recall that during training camp, we’re lucky if we exchange a text every few days? Do you really want to spend our first days as husband and wife unable to even talk to each other? No honeymoon?”
He takes my hand and looks into my eyes. “I know we’re busy. I know it won’t be easy, but we’ll find a way to make it work. It’s too important for us to push it off until a time that’s convenient. I don’t want to wait.”
Saying no to him when he looks at me like that is so hard. It’s as if his eyes stare right into the depths of my being, and I can feel how strongly he feels about this. It’s not just a need for instant gratification—taking this next step in our relationship means something to him. I’m starting to catch on that the wedding means far more to him than just a piece of paper and a party.
He kisses the top of my hand, which really says something considering how disgusting I am. “Please, Ari.”
This man turns me to mush and almost makes me want to ignore practicality and responsibility and run away into a whimsical fairy tale. Almost.
“I promise I’ll think about it.” I look at my watch. “But not tonight. I’m exhausted and we need to get to bed. It’s going to be sunrise before we know it.”
“You’re right. We have a lot to do tomorrow if we’re going to keep on schedule.” Chase stands, then pulls me up. As we walk to our tent, he says, “Do you think the press is going to give us a name?”
I groan. “Probably.”
“What do you think of Brendrich? Since we’re both athletes, it makes more sense to use our last names, since no one ever uses our first names.”
“I don’t think it works that way. They’ll probably go with Charianna or something.”
He unzips our tent door. “I like Brendrich better.”
I slip off my shoes, then climb into the tent. “That will never take off. Charianna is way more marketable. Brendrich sounds like a tire company or something.”
He steps in behind me, then zips the door closed. “Want to put some money on it?”
Chapter Two
Arianna
I look over my shoulder to ensure no one is looking. “On your mark. Get set. Go!”
The room fills with happy squeals as the children laugh and jump on their new beds. We finished the building two days ago, and we just finished putting together all the beds and furniture this morning. After I finished making the beds, I took a group of kids on a tour. They walked around the building with wide eyes, and I couldn’t help but feel they were intimidated. They looked afraid to touch anything. Most of these kids have been sleeping on the floors of over-crowded huts. They’ve never even had a mattress. They’ve never needed a dresser because they’ve only had the clothes on their backs.
Onai, the director of the orphanage, bursts through the doors. “What is going on here?”
“Ms. Arianna said we needed to test the beds to make sure they work right,” Tariro, a little boy I’ve become quite fond of, explains.
“Stop it right now.”
Crestfallen, the children stop jumping.
Onai spins around and glares at me. “Ms. Aldrich, this is not the type of behavior we want to encourage.”
“They’ve never had a real bed before,” I reply. “They need to jump on them to see what it’s all about.” Her scowl deepens, and I put my hand on her shoulder. “It was far too sterile in here. It felt like a prison, not a home for children. They needed to draw on the walls and mess up the—”
Her eyes bug out of her head so far I worry they’re going to pop out. “Draw on the walls! You had them draw on these freshly painted walls?”
I suppose she didn’t see the flowers and rainbows we drew in the hallway. “I needed to see them have a little fun before I leave.”
Shaking her head at me, she leaves the room. Clearly she’s not happy, but I’m assuming she’s giving me leeway since I did just build this school house and orphanage. Being the benefactor has to have some privileges.
I look at the
kids. “Okay, test those beds! I need to make sure each one is super bouncy before I leave.”
Big smiles spread across their faces as they start jumping.
Once the mattresses are properly tested, I rush over to the school. Chase and the rest of the team are hard at work, putting together desks and bookcases. We have to leave at dawn tomorrow to catch our flight, so we’re in crunch time to get everything finished. We get the last book on the last bookshelf just in time for us to watch one final sunset over the savannah.
The men from the village caught a boar today, so they prepared an enormous feast, complete with vegetables from the harvest. After dinner, they brought out the drums. Two of the NFL players brought their guitars, and even though the tribal music of the village is vastly different from the country and rock these guys are used to playing, over the month we’ve been here, they’ve collaborated and come up with some songs that actually aren’t that bad. We dance and tell stories until late into the night. Our little team started off as strangers, but in the last month, we’ve become extremely close. I’m going to miss seeing them every day.
Sunrise comes quickly, and we take down our tents and pack up the van.
Rhea, one of the wives, puts her arm around my shoulder as I take one last look at the village. “A month ago, that lot was just dust and weeds. Now it’s a home and a school. Those kids have a chance at a much better life because of you.”
I give her a hug. “I certainly can’t take all the credit. We were all out there working our tails off.”
She pulls away, then picks up her backpack off the ground. “We swung the hammers, but you made it possible. It was your leadership and direction that kept us on task and on target. A project like this has a million moving pieces and even more obstacles, and you orchestrated it all to flow together seamlessly. You should be proud. I know I’m proud as hell to have been a part of it. Sign me up for all your projects from now on.” She gives my shoulder a squeeze, then walks toward the vans.
“She’s right,” Chase says. “What you accomplished here is amazing. Not that it surprises me. You’re capable of anything.” He puts his arm around me. “Thank you for taking me on this adventure with you.”
I look up at him. “The first of many.”
“I can’t wait,” he replies with a smile.
The head of security waves at us from the van.
“Time to go,” Chase says. “You ready?”
I take one last look around. The sense of accomplishment is overwhelming. I think somewhere in my subconscious, this was all a test. Am I really back? Have I finally moved past all the screw-ups and self-doubt? The old Arianna was unstoppable. Unflappable. Trusted. Respected. Is that who I am now? Looking around at the village, I can’t help but feel like it is.
Chase tugs on my hand. “Hey? You ready?
“Yeah, let’s go.”
He puts his hand on the small of my back and leads me toward the vans. “After this, planning a wedding should be a piece of cake.”
Chapter Three
Chase
When you know someone your entire life, you think you have a pretty good handle on who they are. I thought I knew Arianna better than I knew myself. This past month, she proved that she can still surprise the fuck out of me.
I had no idea what to expect when we arrived in Zimbabwe. Arianna clearly had a plan and I trusted she knew what she was doing, but I assumed Ariko would be driving the ship once we landed. I thought her role was lining up sponsors, funding, and materials. Someone else had to be in charge of the construction, right? What did Ari know about building?
A lot, apparently. From the first piece of lumber to the shingles on the roof to the very last nail, Ari managed the team with a masterful understanding of the process. When she learned how to spread drywall mud, I’ll never know, but she’s damn good at it. And man, does that woman look sexy swinging a hammer.
Growing up, she and I always battled over various leadership rolls—class president, captain of the co-ed kickball team. She was always more organized, but I honestly thought I was the better leader. I just thought I was more commanding. She proved me very wrong on this trip. Somehow she managed to organize the group of NFL players and their wives, the villagers who offered help with the construction, the sleazy local officials who constantly harassed her over permits, and the film crew making the documentary of the project. She had a ton on her plate, and she made it look effortless. I learned a lot from watching her.
I’ve spent most of my life in awe of Arianna. Her talent, her athleticism, her talent, her brilliance. But while I watched her take the helm and create two buildings that may not win any architectural awards but will make a huge difference in the lives of complete strangers, I was overcome with pride. I’m the luckiest son of a bitch that’s ever lived because she’s mine.
DeShawn, one of the players from Dallas, asked me on our way here why Ari would do all this. He thought it was some sort of rich, white guilt. I’m sure Ari’s desire to do some Karma damage repair has something to do with it, but once we saw her with the kids from the village, it was obvious why this project was so important to her. Just being around the kids made her light up brighter than a Christmas tree. She was a natural with them, with an endless supply of new game ideas or stories off the top of her head. I knew she wanted kids, but I never expected playing in the dirt or coming up with silly dances to make her as happy as it did. She’s going to make one hell of a mother, and I can’t wait to make that happen.
But before that happens, I’d like to get married. A feat that’s proving more difficult than I imagined. Getting the proposal perfect seemed like the biggest challenge. I honestly thought the wedding would be easy to plan. Ari’s not like Jenna. She wouldn’t want to spend three hours debating between ivory or cream napkins. I thought we’d pick a place, line up the earliest date, and BAM! a few months later, we’d be hitched. Easy peasey.
She shocked the shit out of me when she said we should wait two years, but it really shouldn’t have surprised me. Ari may have changed a lot in the past year, but she’s still Ari. She’s going to be practical and think about my career first, letting things like romance and impulsivity take the backseat to responsibility. My contract’s up at the end of this season, and if the season goes well, I could be looking at one of the biggest contracts in NFL history. We’d have enough money that my great-great-grandchildren should be set for life. If the season goes well.
Coming off back-to-back Super Bowl wins, I’m going to be under a ton of pressure to three-peat. No one’s ever done it. Jeb Kane wants it so badly he can taste it. He’s spent a shit-ton of money this off-season to put us in a good position to make it happen, keeping our good players and bringing in some key acquisitions that should make us unstoppable. We have the players and an outstanding coaching staff. The question is, do I have what it takes to lead them to victory?
When you’re charging for your second victory, everyone’s cheering for you. When you’re trying to make history, everyone’s waiting for you to fail. Ari’s right—I’ll be under a microscope. Every pass will be scrutinized. Even the slightest mistake will be seen as a sign I’m falling apart. The team had better have a perfect season, because one loss will be taken as the sign the ship is going down. If I were smart, I’d keep my head down and focus on the game. Tune out any distractions.
I guess I’m not smart, because I want this wedding to happen. Fuck the press, fuck the season. Fuck my career. I’ve wanted to marry Ari for almost a decade. I’ve waited long enough. Football’s not going to come in the way of that. Sure, it would be nice to land the biggest contract in NFL history. Am I being short-sighted? Probably. But I don’t need that much money. I need Arianna. End of discussion.
Ari and I talked about it the whole flight back from Africa. I could see she was torn. She wanted to give in to me, but Ari being Ari, she couldn’t ignore our obligations and commitments. We finally decided to table the subject until after we could sit down with a wedding
planner and see what our options are. She said it’s impossible, but I still thought we could find time to make this happen before the season starts. We just built a school and a house in thirty days. Surely we could pull a wedding together in ninety.
Knowing I was up against the clock, I emailed our publicist while we were on the plane and set up an appointment for the next morning to discuss the engagement announcement and talk about wedding plans. If anyone could help me make this wedding happen before the first game of the season, it was Shelly.
In my eagerness to get the ball rolling, I failed to think about the fact that our flight didn’t land at SFO until after three in the morning. It was close to five by the time we cleared customs and got home. Add in the nine-hour time difference, and it took us until about eight thirty to fall asleep.
At 9:50, my doorbell starts ringing.
“Who the hell is ringing your door?” Ari grumbles. “This is my first night in a month without a rock jabbing into my spine, bugs crawling all over me, or the Snore-athalon going on around me. If that doorbell rings one more time, whomever it is had better run, because I’m going to chop all their doorbell-pushing-fingers off.”
“I think it’s my mother,” I mumble, still mostly asleep. “She’s always early for everything.”
“Why would Katie be here? Early for what? I’m sure she must realize we need a day to shake off the jet lag.”
“I invited her to join us for the meeting. I thought it might help make up for not seeing her before we left.” Like an engine out of oil, my brain refuses to turn on, and I close my eyes again.
Love To Love You (Love/Hate #3) Page 2
