Rushed: A Second Chance Sports Romance

by Lauren Landish

“Careful Tyler,” Francine jokes. “You might get married in the middle of Manitoba with snow up to your butts that way.”

  “Then I guess I'll have to throw three, just to make sure I'm not joining the Polar Bear Club. We'll talk after the game.”

  Three touchdowns is exactly what Tyler throws, and with the win, the Fighters secure second place in the Eastern Conference, giving us a home game in the first round of the playoffs with one game left up in Edmonton. With my permission Tyler attends the press conference after the game, answering questions about his deal, our engagement, and more. I'm surprised, in fact, when someone calls my name afterward, and I see that it's Trisha James, coming over with a digital recorder in hand. “Miss Gray, can I ask you a few questions?”

  I look toward the front of the room, where Tyler's left to shower and get changed, and I nod. “A few. But I'm not used to this sort of thing, so I might not be able to help you out.”

  “That won't be a problem,” Trisha says. “Just . . . where did you meet? I checked up on you guys after the television interview, and there's a rumor you two were childhood sweethearts?”

  “Something like that,” I admit. “I bet Tyler can tell you the story better than I can for a sit-down if you want to book him.”

  “And give him the appearance fee,” Trisha says with a laugh. “You sure you're not becoming his manager instead of his PA?”

  “Well, girl power, you know,” I joke. “But no, he's the love of my life. I'm a lucky girl.”

  “So are you two going to get married quickly, or wait a while?” Trisha asks. “I've got a friend who works the style and lifestyle desk who might want to know.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “I have no clue. I've only been engaged a couple of hours, we'll have to discuss that sort of thing later.”

  Trisha clicks off her voice recorder and tucks it into her bag. “And family?”

  “We'll see there too,” I answer. “Sorry I couldn't be more help.”

  She shakes her head and smiles wistfully. “You were great.”

  She gives me a little handshake and leaves, and I head to the back where Tyler is showering. I want to go into the locker room, but that's a players only area, and so I wait in the hallway for him, but not long. Instead, he comes out, and takes my hand. “You know, you didn't have to be quite so impulsive,” I tease as we start to walk. “When I said let it all go . . . I didn't quite mean that.”

  “I know,” Tyler says with a chuckle. “Just . . . from the time I first started playing football, I've always wanted to do something like that on the field. No better day than today.”

  “Even with what we might find out Monday?” I ask, worried. “Tyler . . . I don't want to rain on our day, but if the tests come back . . .”

  “Then we'll be married before the ink's even dry on the diagnosis,” Tyler says quietly. “I will treasure every day with you, and if you can't remember some day . . . I'll remember for the both of us.”

  I nod and hug him from the side. “Then let's go home and make some memories.”

  Chapter 23

  Tyler

  The University of Toronto Hospital is supposed to be the best in the city, and some people even say it's the best in Canada, but I'm still nervous as April and I go into the waiting room. Maybe the stories are bullshit, but I wasn't impressed by what I saw at the hospice in London, and I've heard too many stories about the problems of Canadian managed care.

  Then again, this is all on the Fighters' supplementary insurance, and with that amount of coverage comes remarkable service. We're seen by the doctor quickly, a redheaded woman named Dr. Banks.

  “Miss Gray, have a seat. I read your file, and looked over the DNA scan that the last doctors did four years ago.”

  “What did you find?” April asks, and I take a seat on the stool that's against the wall. “Did they miss anything?”

  “Not at all. In fact, the test was done by one of my mentors,” Dr. Banks says. “Still, I went line by line through the scan, and there's nothing there that says that you are genetically inclined toward early onset Alzheimer's.”

  “Then what's with these mood swings? I'm bitchy half the time, crying another half, and just feeling off the rest of the time,” April protests, then takes a deep breath. “See what I mean?”

  Dr. Banks taps at her clipboard, thinking. “Well, how about I run you through the cognitive tests, and we can take another blood sample? I won't get the genetic lab results back for a month or so, but the cognitive tests can at least give us a baseline.”

  “Why a month?” I protest, suddenly upset. I've tried to be April's rock this whole time, but I can't hold back any more. I need to know as much as she does. “It can't be that hard, can it?”

  “Actually, Mr. Paulson, it can,” Dr. Banks says, arching an eyebrow. “There's a lot of genetic material that makes up the human body, and while we can do chromosome typing in just a few hours, scanning for specific gene sequences takes time. I wish I could tell you it'd go faster, but even if we sent this to Johns Hopkins or Harvard, you'd be looking at a few weeks.”

  I'm fuming, but there's no arguing. “Okay . . . okay. So what're these cognitive tests?”

  “Something I have to do with just the doctor,” April says, trying to comfort me. “You'll need to leave the room, but it shouldn't take long, just an hour to an hour and a half or so. It's okay, I've done this before.”

  I look into April's eyes and blink, trying not to let my fear show. “Okay. I'll go find some trouble to get into.”

  “Stay away from the nurses,” April teases, then kisses me. “Or else you won't get any dessert tonight. I'll text you when I'm done.”

  I leave the exam room and wander the hospital, leaving when I realize it's really not all that different from any other hospital I've been in, and that it's boring as hell. I walk out the front and look around, and decide to walk over to the government building that's only a block and a half away. It houses the Ontario Legislative Assembly, what I guess would best be called a State House in the USA, and as I stand in front of the dark brick building, I have to admit it's got a certain sense of old school charm to it. It's not overly grand like the California one, there's none of the pretentious use of marble or granite. Instead, there's a sense of somber gravity, like the men and women who work here know that they're not here for themselves, but instead for the people of Ontario.

  After a while of walking around and shaking a few hands of the people that recognize me, I get back to the hospital and head upstairs. The exam room is still closed, with the little red tag on the outside that tells me that whatever it is Dr. Banks is having April do, she's still doing it. Instead, I sit down and let my hands dangle between my knees, looking up at the television on the wall.

  “I wouldn't waste my time with that crap,” a voice says behind me, and I turn to see Vince coming into the waiting area. “Last time I was here, I sat through three hours of daytime television, and never once did I see anything worthwhile. My advice is next time, bring a book.”

  “Advice noted,” I said, shaking hands with Vince. “So what brings you down here?”

  “You and April,” Vince says with a smile. “My last regular season is nearly done, man. It's all about my transition, and part of that means checking on my quarterback . . . and my friend. At least, I hope.”

  “Damn right,” I answer, patting the seat next to me. “It's going to be strange next year, breaking in a new guy underneath me. It'll be nice having you around to help with that. Although it's going to be strange calling you Coach.”

  “Meh, I'll still be Vince, you know that,” Vince says. “So how long has she been in there?”

  I look up at the clock, doing some quick checking. “One hour and . . . eleven minutes,” I say. “April said the checks could take up to an hour and a half, but after walking around the Legislature Building, I headed back here. Too damn cold, and even the politicians are wanting to say hi today.”

  “Oh, who'd you run into?” Vince ask
s. “Last time I ran into a government worker who wanted my signature, it was the policeman who was giving me a parking ticket.”

  I chuckle at the lame joke. It helps with the tension. “I don't know his job, but he said his name was . . . Wynne. Dalton Wynne, I think.”

  “Really? Wow, you get around to high places,” Vince notes with an appreciative whistle and a raised eyebrow. When I return the look, he shakes his head. “You have no idea, do you?”

  “Should I?” I ask. “No offense, Vince, but I'm just a football player.”

  “Dalton Wynne is the Lieutenant Governor of Ontario. He's the highest appointed office in the province.”

  “Then why do you call him Lieutenant Governor?” I ask. “Wouldn't Governor make more sense?”

  “Canada, man. Canada. Tell you what, over the off-season, come by my house. I'll give you my son's old social studies book. After all, it looks like you'll be sticking around quite a while.”

  “Deal. It'd be nice to see where you live. Sort of get used to the idea of family.”

  The tag next to the exam room door changes, and the door opens. April's still inside, but Dr. Banks comes to the door. “Mr. Paulson? We've completed our tests.”

  I swallow at the doctor's tone. She sounds so serious still. She glances at Vince, recognizing him, then back at me, and I get up carefully, my feet tingling and my hands going numb.

  I go into the exam room, bumping my shoulder on the door frame as I see April's face. She looking down, picking at her thumbnail, and I can't help it, I just want to hold her. I rush over and pick her up, holding her tight. “It's okay, babe. I love you. I promise . . . I'll be here.”

  “Mr. Paulson, have a seat please,” Dr. Banks says, and I set April down carefully, afraid I might break her. “Mr. Paulson, I'm sorry it took so long. There were a few extra tests that I wanted to run when I did my interviews with Miss Gray, and while the tests were easy enough, I didn't have the supplies and had to get them from the dispensary.”

  “The what?”

  “The pharmacy,” Vince, who's followed me and is leaning in the doorway, says. I nod gratefully, but barely acknowledge him other than that.

  “So?”

  “We have figured out what is the cause of Miss Gray's mood swings and some of her other symptoms,” Dr. Banks says, reaching over. “She has . . . well, some might call it a parasite.”

  “A parasite? Like, something inside her? Can it be removed?” I ask hurriedly, taking April's hand. “Tell me that she's going to be okay at least, Doc.”

  “Oh, she'll be fine,” Dr. Banks says. “As for removal, well, it’s possible, but most people decide to let the parasite come out naturally.”

  “What? What type of fucked up Canadian thinking is this? You just let a parasite stay until it decides to come out on its own? What the hell . . .”

  “What do you want to name it?” April asks, and I hear a smile in her voice. I look over and see that she's still looking down, trying to suppress a grin, and I'm confused. “Most people name them.”

  “Name? What are you talking about? Who names a parasite?”

  “I named my first one Timothy, and the second Stephen,” Vince says, laughing, and I feel like everyone's in on the joke but me. I'm still confused, scared and worried, and why the fuck won't someone tell me what's going on?

  “Mr. Paulson . . . your fiancée is pregnant,” Dr. Banks says, and suddenly, it all becomes so clear. Parasite. Ha. A good one.

  I'm too stunned to laugh though, and I look at April. “You mean . . . we're going to be parents?”

  April nods and turns her head, and I can see that she's smiling and crying at the same time. “Yeah. Congratulations, Tyler. You're going to be a father.”

  I hop off the table and pick her up again, hugging her tightly. “No, thank you for being the perfect woman for me, and the only woman who I want to ever have children with.”

  We stay there, holding each other tightly, until Vince clears his throat. I set April down again and look over at him. “Do I get to tell the guys? I mean, before practice today. Or would you two like that honor?”

  I look at April, who smiles. “May I?”

  I nod and kiss her sweetly on her precious lips. “Of course, my love. How do you want to do it?”

  April smirks, and in that smile, I see forever, and it looks perfect.

  Epilogue

  April

  “So you made the announcement over the stadium PA system?” Carrie Hart, Duncan’s wife, asks, stroking her belly. She's huge, and if that baby doesn't come out at least four kilograms I'm going to be surprised. It's a little strange to be talking to her without either of our mates present, but I wanted to invite her personally. After all, while Duncan is most likely going to be Tyler's best man, I would love to have Carrie join my group of bridesmaids if she's able. “How'd everyone react?”

  “They gave Tyler a water bucket shower right at the end of practice,” I laugh, “while I was watching from the stands. They would have done it earlier, but with practice temps dropping into the single digits, they didn't want their star QB to catch a cold.”

  “Single digits? Jesus, how are you not freezing?” Carrie asks, then catches herself. “Oh yeah, Celsius. What's that, about forty, forty-five our scale?”

  “Something like that. I can do pounds to kilos and miles to kilometers, but the temperature still screws me up. It's getting colder now though, I mean this was two weeks ago Carrie.”

  I hear the apartment door open, and Tyler comes in, grinning. “Hey babe.”

  “Tyler, is that you?” Carrie asks, and Tyler comes around the table into view of the camera on our laptop. “Hey, long time no see surfer dude. Heard you got lucky.”

  “You can say that again. I see you're getting ready to pop.” Tyler sits down next to me and puts his arm around my shoulders. Damn that feels good. “How's the big man?”

  “He's doing great. In fact, we were just talking the other day. Duncan's got games all the way through January, like you know. The Wildcats are pretty much a lock for the playoffs, and if we can go deep, there's a chance we could go all the way. Pretty good for a rookie.”

  “Damn good. Better than us,” Tyler says with a touch of disappointment. We'd lost our playoff game, not due to him, he put out another great effort, but our defense collapsed again, and three touchdowns by Tyler just wasn't enough. Next year, though. “So you guys are going to be busy for the first half of the winter.”

  “We are, but Duncan and I really want to go to your ceremony, so we were kind of thinking . . . what about you two coming down here for the ceremony?”

  I look at Tyler, who raises an eyebrow. “It’ll be warm.”

  “And you can leave on a honeymoon of the Caribbean as soon as the whole thing's over,” Carrie adds. “We were thinking though that maybe you'd like to hang out for a game? I mean, I know you're committed to Toronto and everything, but it'd be cool to see you again, and Troy and Whitney are super geeked about the idea of meeting you. I mean, we all do share the same financial planner and everything.”

  “Speaking of financial planning, that was what I just came back from,” Tyler says excitedly. “I got the endorsement deal.”

  “Really?” I ask, excited. “They really signed you that quickly?”

  “Their offer was good, and there's no reason not to do it,” Tyler says. Seeing that Carrie is confused, he explains. “One of the big sporting goods companies in Ontario has been looking for a new pitchman, and after my performance this year they offered me an endorsement contract. Two years, quarter million total.”

  Carrie grins. “What's that, about fifteen bucks American?”

  I glower, but laugh. It's an old joke. “Very funny, Yankee girl.”

  Carrie sticks her tongue out at me and blows a big raspberry, but we're both smiling. I've never met her face to face, but I like Carrie Hart. “Ooooh, Yankee girl. I like it. I'll make sure to tell Duncan, he can call me that from now on.”

  I c
an't help but laugh. “Point taken. Actually, I'm looking forward to meeting you and Duncan. You can tell me all sorts of embarrassing stories about my soon to be husband.”

  “Oh, for sure. In fact, remind me to have Duncan tell the one about the time Tyler went down to Mexico and got drunk in Tijuana.”

  Tyler groans, and I glance over, raising an eyebrow.

  Carrie laughs. “What about baby names, have you thought of any for your baby? I mean, I know it's going to be a while before you need to, but you know.”

  I look at Tyler, who nods. I smile and look at Carrie, who is still looking on expectantly. “If it's a girl, we're going to name her Marie, after her grandmother. If it's a boy . . . Gavin. That was Tyler's grandfather's name.”

  “Those are beautiful. Hey, do you guys want Duncan to give you a holler when he gets home? The boys are prepping for New England this week, if you rush I might be able to get you two tickets.”

  Tyler shakes his head and grins. “Nah . . . but pencil us in for your next home game. April and I need to firm up some plans with the folks here who we're inviting for the wedding, and my Mom too, but whatever it is, we'll for sure want to do a home game.”

  “Bank on it. Congrats again Tyler. And April, I am looking forward to meeting you in person. And Duncan will give you both a holler tonight.”

  Carrie signs off, and I look over at Tyler, who's still smiling. “Home game in Jacksonville, huh?”

  “And from there we can go on our honeymoon,” Tyler says. “But, if you want your Mom to attend, maybe we can do two ceremonies? One with a J-P for her, one in Florida for everyone else?”

  “Let's think about it. Now, what's this about a quarter million dollars?”

  Tyler nods and smiles. “Three commercials, one day of photo shoots for print ads, and the same next year. I was going to call Cory about that tomorrow, and invest it all. No matter what, our future is going to be secured.”

  A secure future. A baby on the way, and the man of my dreams next to me. “I can live with that. You know, this apartment's going to be pretty small in a couple of years.”