“That just shows that they’re business guys and not sports guys. Sports guys would know when you fuck with the fate, the sports gods curse you. That shit will bite you in the ass for decades. Philly and the William Penn curse. Chicago’s got the goat and the Black Sox double whammy. How long did it take Boston to shake the curse of the Bambino?”
“Let’s not forget the Madden curse, Sports Illustrated curse,” Pop adds.
“If they don’t honor this Will, the NFL is fucked. The whole league’s going down. I’m glad I got out when I did.” I put my arm around Ari who’s being exceptionally quiet. I can’t tell if she’s just tired or just sick of talking about it.
On the rest of the ninety-minute drive to the ranch, he tells us stories of the insanely poor decisions he’s seen MLB owners make over the years, and they put Ari right to sleep. Pop drives us to the main house first. Ari and Charlie are staying here tonight so we can adhere to the not-seeing-the-bride-before-the-wedding thing.
Careful not to wake her, I pick her up out of the backseat then carry her into the house. The door to her room is closed, and I have to jostle her a little to open it.
Her eyes open for a moment. “Hi,” she says with a sleepy voice.
“Shhh. Go back to sleep,” I whisper.
She wraps her arms around me then nuzzles the crook of my neck. “I love you.”
“I love you back.” I lay her on the bed, thrilled that I was able to convince her to change into yoga pants and a T-shirt on the plane. If I had to get her into pajamas right now, she’d wake up.
I know my sister’s told Ari about the poker tent, and she’s itching to get into the game and take everyone’s money. From what I’ve heard, the games have been going till Clay starts serving breakfast every morning. If she woke up enough to remember the poker games and managed to get anywhere near the poker tent, we might as well kiss a good night’s sleep good-bye. My girl can’t pass up a poker game, not even if it means dark circles under her eyes at her wedding. I’d have to play the pregnancy card, and I hate being the bad guy.
I kiss her forehead. “Night, Blondie. See you in about fifteen hours. I’ll be waiting for you at the end of the aisle.”
Her arms constrict around me. “Don’t go.” She still sounds as though she’s half asleep.
“I have to. It’s tradition.” I gently try to loosen her grip. “Now go back to sleep.”
Her arms relax then slowly fall to her sides. “Sleep does sound good.”
I give her a quick kiss and study her face through the pale moonlight. She’s so fucking beautiful, it’s hard to force myself to leave. I’m happiest when I’m by her side, even if it’s just lying next to her and watching her sleep. I’m sure people will say it’s the honeymoon stage, but we’ve been together a long time. I don’t think the honeymoon phase applies to us.
What I feel in this moment here with her, it’s not going to fade over time or diminish with age. She’s my other half. The world feels off when we’re not together. Sure, I’m functional on my own, but the second we’re together, everything falls into sync and life soars into a whole different dimension. That’s not a stage—that’s a connection forged after a lifetime together. A bond that’s strong enough to handle everything life throws at us. She’s my partner, my best friend.
“How did I get so lucky?” I whisper. I place a light kiss on her forehead then leave her room.
After we lock up, Pop and I take a golf cart down to “Tent City,” as he calls it.
“Holy shit,” I say. Hundreds of huge white canvas tents are lined up in six rows, completely filling the pasture. Each tent has got to be ten or twelve feet tall at its peak and is set up on a slatted wood base that’s probably eight feet wide. They’re bigger than my freshman dorm room. Lantern-lined stone pathways trail between the rows of tents. “Bryan wasn’t messing around. I’m not sure what I imagined, but this tops it.”
“I’m doing every event like this from now on,” Pop says. “Even the team retreat. It’s been fantastic. So laidback and relaxed. No press bugging anyone. Everyone has been way more social than we would be in a hotel. Clay’s kept everyone fed until they pop, so no one’s missing room service. We’ve been playing horseshoes, corn hole, and bocce ball during the days. Bonfires and s’mores at night.” Pop nudges me with his elbow. “And it’s the most comfortable mattress I’ve ever slept on. I’ve slept like a baby the whole trip.”
I crane my neck to look around. “I wonder who’s still up.”
“For the most part, people went to bed about an hour ago.” Pop points at the first three tents. “Those three tents are the casino, and all the night owls are in there. Poker in the first, craps in the second. They’re playing a bastardized form of blackjack where there’s no house in the third. I have no idea how they’re doing it though. Once I heard Pax came up with the rules, I decided I’d stay clear of it.” Pop looks over my shoulder. “Hey, Spence!”
Spencer’s walking toward the poker tent, does a double take, then rushes over. He puts his arm around my shoulder, turns us around, then walks toward the path to the house.
“You’re not here,” he whispers. “You were never here. Go back up to the house and come back in like an hour.” He looks at his watch. “Forty-three minutes actually.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I’ve got money on three, and you’re early.”
Of course they’re betting on how late we’d be. I was a dumbass for not expecting it. “Dude, seriously? I’ve missed enough as it is. You’ve got enough money. You don’t need to win the pool.”
“It’s not about the money, it’s the bragging rights.”
“Whatever,” I reply. “I’m still not doing it. Let’s go play some cards. Gain your bragging rights that way.”
With a huff, he clucks his tongue. “Fine. Let’s go.”
When we pull back the flaps of the tent and walk in, the four tables of guys jump up. I walk around the tent, giving hugs and high-fives. Everyone gives me shit about being late to my own party. I play a few hands at each table, which gives me a chance to catch up with everyone.
Everyone’s obviously been getting to know one another over the last few days. Friends from college, family from around the country, and friends from my adult life on and off the field are all intermixed, chatting with familiarity. With the amount of jokes and jeers and ball-busting going on, it’s obvious they’ve been having a good time. I’m bummed we missed it.
We’re having so much fun, the hours just slip away. It isn’t until Clay rings the chuck wagon bell that we realize what time it is. I should go to bed and catch a little sleep, but I’m having way too good of a time, so we head to breakfast. After filling my plate with blueberry pancakes, bacon, hash, and biscuits and gravy, I eat until I can’t move. Exhaustion starts to kick in, and I really regret promising the guys we’d play two-hand-touch at eleven.
Other guests start to wake up and trickle out of tents, and I realize quickly that if I don’t leave now, I’ll be stuck here for hours without the chance to grab a few hours’ sleep. I push my plate away then tell the guys I’ll catch them later. Spencer leads me to our tent while I still have a chance to sneak away.
Shockingly, the tent is completely light blocking. I was sure I’d have to puss out and put on a sleeping mask, but it’s pitch black inside.
“Thanks for holding down the fort,” I say to Spence once I’m settled in bed. “I know it must have sucked not being able to tell everyone where we were.”
“I just had them start betting on it,” he replies. “The big money is on a brain tumor.”
“What?”
“People think you retired because when you got the concussion, they found a brain tumor. So they think you were either meeting with a new doctor who thinks he can cure you, or you had brain surgery. Although when they see you without bandages, they’ll figure that one out.”
I turn to face his bed even though I can’t see shit. “You just took their money and let the
m think I’m dying? That’s fucked up.”
He scoffs. “What did you think was going to happen when you retire totally out of the blue and don’t give anyone a reason? People are going to try to connect the dots, and the leap from concussion to tumor to retirement isn’t a big one. Don’t worry, there’re other bets too. A few people think you’re already married to Jenna and you needed to finalize the divorce.”
“Oh God,” I groan. “Fuck no. Who the hell did we invite who would even think that?” I thought we’d limited the list to good friends and family, all of whom should know how ridiculous that is.
“Somebody’s wife. I didn’t recognize her, but Charlie did. Says she’s a real piece of work. This chick was so convinced she was right, she bet a grand. Speaking of, how is Crazycakes? You haven’t said anything about her in a while, and her dad and I avoid each other at all costs at work.”
“I try not to think about her. After we found out she’s been giving interviews and spreading lies, her parents moved her to a different facility. Clearly the place she was in wasn’t doing her any good.”
“She’s still locked up? After all this time? That’s nuts. I knew she had a screw loose, but I honestly thought a few months in there, she’d get out. It sounds like you fucked her over so hard, all her damn screws got loose.”
I throw one of my pillows at him. “Thanks a lot, asshole. Go fuck yourself.”
Laughing, he throws the pillow back. “It’s not your fault. I’m just giving you shit.”
I prop the pillow behind my head. “I really don’t get her. I don’t think she’s unstable. I mean, she’s nothing like Jaime. All she has to do to get out is admit that our relationship is over and say she’s accepted that Ari and I are together, but she just won’t do it.”
“Seriously? That’s it?”
“Yup. That’s it. The doctors don’t think she’s a danger to herself or anyone else anymore, but they can’t let her go unless she admits it, and she won’t. Personally, I think she likes the attention.”
Spence’s tone shifts from joking to sober. “If that’s all it takes to get her freedom and she doesn’t jump at it, maybe she really does belong in there.”
“Maybe, but that’s her parents’ problem to sort out, not mine. As long as she stays the hell away from me and Ari, I don’t give a shit where she is or what she does. She’s just a speck in my rearview mirror as far as I’m concerned.”
“Good. You have way too many good things on the horizon to get stuck in the past.” I hear his sheets rustle. “Why couldn’t you tell anyone about Ari’s interview? I didn’t hear the details on that decision.”
“It was part of her deal with the NFL. Eckert’s worried there’d be huge fan backlash if people knew about Jeb’s will and that the NFL might overrule it. They don’t want to look like the bad guys pissing on a nationally beloved man’s last wishes, so everything’s being kept under lock and key. We couldn’t tell anyone—except you guys, obviously. We even had to keep a low profile while we were there. There’s usually a press conference after the meetings every day, which didn’t happen. The press is pissed they’re getting iced out, and they’re digging to find out why. It’s only a matter of time before someone spills.”
“Do you think she’ll get it?” he asks.
I sigh. “At first I thought there was no way they didn’t give it to her. Now, after how big of pricks they were, I have no clue. Your guess is as good as mine.”
“I can’t believe what they put her through. They’re supposed to be businesspeople with at least a shred of professionalism. I’m sure they’ve rationalized it as due diligence, but all this is is sophomoric hazing.”
“Yup,” I reply. “You have no idea how hard it was not to storm into that room and kick the shit out of them, but I know she can handle herself.”
“It’s a good thing you talked her out of the prenup, huh? You’ll get to be part owner of the Niners instead of only sleeping with the owner of the Niners.”
I take every pillow on the bed and chuck them at him. “You are such a dick when you’re overtired. I don’t know how my sister puts up with you.”
“It’s because of my big—”
“You’ll shut your mouth if you know what’s good for you.”
Laughing, he tosses the pillows back to me. “You’re right, I’m tired and I’m being a prick. I swear I’m just kidding. Trust me, prenups cause more harm than good. You guys did the right thing.”
I rearrange the pillows, hoping that was the last time I’d need to throw them at him. “If we don’t get at least a few hours’ sleep…”
I hear him pat his pillow a few times. “Are you nervous? It’s okay if you are. Remember, I was a freaking wreck the night before my wedding.”
“Yeah, but that was totally different. You and Charlie were just out of college, and you’d been together forever. Never even dated anyone else. Ari and I have lived—a lot. Some together, some apart.”
“You’re right, it’s different,” he says. “But you have your own set of issues that could give you cold feet. I know things are good between you now, but you two have a long history.”
“Our history is what tells me I have nothing to be nervous about. Ari and I have been through it all. I know what she’s like at her worst. I know what we’re like at our worst, and I would take us at our worst every day for the rest of our lives over not having her at all.”
“That’s good, man,” he says. “That’s how it should be.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Arianna
After sleeping like the dead, I pry open my heavy eyelids. After blinking a few times, I look around. I remember getting off the plane, but that’s about it. It takes me a second to place where I am. My room at the ranch? That’s when I notice the guy in the corner of the room, taking pictures.
In one motion, I roll off the bed and grab the shotgun under the bed. Jumping to my feet, I point it at the pervert in the corner. “You’ve got five seconds to drop your camera and tell me how the hell you got in here.”
Slightly trembling, he raises his hands. The camera hangs from his neck. “I’m, um, um, Randall. Charlie told me to come in and take pictures.”
I rack the gun. “Of me sleeping?”
His face turns sheet white. The way he’s holding his shaking legs together, he looks as though he might pee himself. “I-I-um—”
Charlie bursts through the door. “Time to get up sleepyhead, it’s wedding ti—whoa, what the fuck is going on?”
My eyes and my aim never leave Randall. “This guy claims you sent him in here. Do you know him?”
Charlie slowly steps toward me. “Yeah, he’s part of the photography team. Can we put the gun down?”
I keep the gun right where it is. “Why the hell was he in my room while I was sleeping?
Putting her hands on her hips, Charlie stares at the cameraman. “That’s a really good question. Randall, what the fuck were you doing in here?”
His lips quiver. “You told me to take pictures.”
Charlie rolls her eyes. “I meant of Calder running around wearing nothing but his bow tie, or of Bryan getting shit ready. Not of Ari sleeping. That’s fucking creepy.”
“I-I-I—”
Shaking her head, Charlie sighs. “Just forget it. Go get some fresh underoos, as I’m sure you need them, and take pictures of the guys playing football on pasture six.”
“Um, which one is that? I get really confused. It’s all flat and green. They all look the same.”
She points at the door. “Read the goddamn map and get the hell out of here.”
Randall runs out of my room as though his ass is on fire and he’s searching for a bucket to sit in.
I take the shell out of the chamber then reload it into the magazine. “So he’s one of the guys about to take the photography world by storm, huh? More like future paparazzi. Please tell me the rest of them have better judgment. And I want all the pictures downloaded then deleted from their devices befor
e they leave.”
“I can’t believe you have a gun in here,” she replies, ignoring me.
I return the gun to the rack attached to the bottom of the bed frame. “Seriously? We’re at my father’s house, and we’re in Texas. There’re guns under every bed, in every closet, and probably under a few of the couches. I know there’s even one in the silverware drawer. My mother used to say the only thing a woman should have more of than shoes is guns.”
Charlie sprints out of the room. “Does someone have their eyes on Calder?”
Shuffling to the bathroom, I laugh at how different our families are. Katie and Pat would never touch a gun, let alone buy one, and my parents bought guns the way people nowadays buy cell phones. Every time a new model came out, they had to have it. Pat and Daddy grew up across the street from each other, were best friends their entire life, and the two men couldn’t be more opposite.
Not knowing where my suitcase ended up, I dig through the drawers for a fresh toothbrush. As I brush my teeth, I glance at the mirror and see my dress hanging on the closet door.
Holy shit, I’m getting married. The reality of the moment sinks in as I lean against the sink and stare at the reflection of my dress.
Charlie enters the bathroom then jumps onto countertop. “We’re going to keep Calder out of the house for the rest of the time we’re here.” She looks at me. “What’s the matter? You look like you’re the one who just had a shotgun in her face.”
“I’m getting married.”
“Yes, I know. In less than four hours. I let you sleep as late as you could, but you really need to get a move on. Hair and makeup will be here any minute, so I’d hop in the shower if I were you.” She wipes at her chin. “Snap out of it. You’ve got toothpaste everywhere, and we don’t have time for you to freak out.” She jumps off the counter, walks to the shower, then turns it on. “Is your hair dirty?”
“Of course.”
She takes the toothbrush from my hand then turns me toward the shower. I slip out of my pajamas and hop into the shower. I screech the second my skin touches the ice-cold water.
Love To Love You (Love/Hate #3) Page 44
