"Thanks. It's great that you two are being so kind."
"Trust me, it's going to be nice having some more players our age around. Most of the young guys, the rookies and such, they're on the wild side. But your Duncan, he's shown a change of heart recently. Troy appreciates that."
"I bet. But Whitney, before you get any ideas, Duncan and I . . . we're not married, or even engaged. We've just been dating for a few months."
"And in those few months, he went from a major player to a decent guy. Trust me, I did my research. It pays, in my line of work."
"What is that, by the way? I'm still getting my head wrapped around Duncan being a Wildcat."
"I'm an art dealer, actually," Whitney says with a touch of pride. It explains so much. Her touch around the house is now evident, as perhaps the one extravagance the house has is an amazing selection of artwork, something in nearly every room. "I guess you'll hear the story eventually, but Troy and I . . . well, it's a long story, but we only got married about a year ago now. After his first half-season with Jacksonville."
"Really? The way he and Laurie get along, I thought you'd been married since she was born."
Whitney sits back and sips at her iced tea, which she'd brought out for both of us. "No, I actually got pregnant with Laurie back in high school. Troy was my first, and I had Laurie in Europe. Troy and I didn't see each other until Laurie was five, and he didn't know Laurie was his daughter for a while after that. Remind me some time, and I'll tell you the whole tale."
I nod, distracted as I think about my own current condition. Whitney notices and clears her throat. "You okay, Carrie? My best friend is a psychologist, and being in imports and exports, you tend to get a handle on people. You've been looking, well, I guess the best way to say it is preoccupied since you came in."
"Yeah, I guess I am," I answer, looking down at baby Travis. "He's cute. How old is he?"
"Two months," Whitney replies, watching as he kicks in his little chair and beams up at us. "We tried to get pregnant on our honeymoon, but it didn't actually happen until just before training camp. I still feel bad for the team. I swear, Troy was distracted in the playoffs because I had a pretty tough third trimester. Travis is like his father, huge and active. My belly looked like an alien movie."
I laugh. “Well, you are pretty petite. Getting yourself back into shape, though, I see."
"Mmm, can't be too strict though. Travis needs the milk, and Troy . . . well, he likes it too!"
Whitney's laughter causes me to smile, but my mind is still whirling. I feel tears well up in my eyes, and one escapes, trickling down my cheek. Whitney stops laughing and slides next to me, rubbing my back. "Hey, I’m sorry. I know it was a horrible joke."
I shake my head and wipe the tear away. "No, it was fine. Just . . . stuff's on my mind. Can I ask you some personal questions?"
"Sure. I'm hoping that we can become friends. I'm not trying to say a lot of the players’ wives and girlfriends and I don't get along, but I spent five years in Italy after growing up in a small town in the Seattle area. Just different backgrounds is all."
"Well, do you ever . . . I don't know, have any regrets about the way it happened between you and Troy? I mean, if Laurie’s six, you must have had her back in high school. That had to be tough.”
"It was. And yes, I do have one regret about it all."
"What's that?"
"I regret the five years that Troy didn't know he had a daughter. Oh, I guess I had my justification for it at the time. Troy was also in high school, I didn't want to hurt his football career, yada yada. I wasn't even sure I was going to tell him until I did. I didn't want him to think I was gold digging on him. But I forgot something in all my excuses. I forgot about Troy and who he is. He was such a player before we met. I called him a manwhore, in fact, at first, and we joke about it still. But when he and I clicked . . . it was magic. He changed and matured before my very eyes. Then I got pregnant and forgot about all that. I just went off my fears, and it took me five years to rectify that mistake. So yeah, I do regret that. Watching Laurie and him play on that swing set outside that Troy built for her . . . that's my only regret."
I wipe at my eyes and think with Whitney staying right next to me. She doesn't ask any questions. I think she's pretty sure what's going on, because as we see the guys come back, stopping outside to let Laurie play on the swings, she pats my back again. "Tell him. Don't make the same mistake I did. Besides, I saw how he looks at you. He loves you, Carrie. That man is head over heels in love with you. Have faith in that, and you'll be fine."
Duncan, Troy and Laurie finish playing outside, coming back inside with Laurie leading the way. "Mama," she says, and I can pick out now the lilt to her accent. It's Italian, "Duncan can skip a rock five times across the pond!"
"Really?" Whitney asks, giving Duncan a smile. "Tell me you're not trying out for quarterback now too."
Duncan laughs and comes over, sitting down next to me. "Nah. Just a lucky find of a good stone, and the pond's as flat as ice. So did you two have a good chat?"
"We did," Whitney says. "Carrie's quite a catch. I wouldn't let go of her if I were you."
"I'm not," Duncan says, taking my hand again. "Not if I have anything to say about it."
Chapter 23
Duncan
It feels weird, after spending the past three months slowly watching my bank account dwindle as my money ran out, to see five figures on the screen as I take money out at the ATM. The Wildcats, understanding my predicament, gave me an advance on my signing bonus, the team President cutting me a personal check before Carrie and I left Jacksonville. I'm good to go while the paperwork winds its way through the lawyers, which are a lot more numerous than I thought there would be.
I take out two hundred bucks and tuck the cash into my wallet, then get my card. I tuck everything into my jacket and head toward campus, pulling my backpack up over my shoulder. While my contract is signed, I still have a college degree to finish up, and the Wildcats have been really understanding about that. They're trusting me to continue working with Carrie and Coach Taylor in working with my elbow and staying in playing shape, and three weeks after graduation, I'm to report to Jacksonville to do my first rookie camp.
Actually, that's the only concern I've had this whole time since being drafted. Classes are going okay. I'll get my degree, but the move to Jacksonville seems to be causing stress between Carrie and me. I don't understand why either, because I'm more dedicated to her than ever. Each time I turned around with the Wildcats, I was asking someone on the team advice on how to help Carrie adjust. The team even said they'd be willing to work with Western, if Carrie wants to do her last year as a split student. She can do the fall semester in Jacksonville, interning with the Wildcats and doing studies via distance learning, and then we can go back in the spring semester in order to let her wrap up her brick and mortar classes that she can't do in Jacksonville. The most we'd have to be apart is a month, and only if the Wildcats go deep in the playoffs.
So things should be great, but for some reason, they're not. Last night, for the first time since we moved in together, she was offish, not wanting to even cuddle on the couch. I chalked it up at the time to stress. I mean, we've both got reports and finals coming up pretty soon, but still, it's on my mind.
Walking by the Pavilion, I see Tyler Paulson. He didn't get drafted, but afterward, he got an invite to sign a contract with Toronto of the Canadian League. "Hey, Tyler. How's it going?"
"Not bad," Tyler says, waving. "Just got off the phone with the guys up in Toronto. They're sending down some stuff to help me find an apartment. No way am I moving up there full time. That city is stupid levels of expensive."
"What, you don't like T-dot girls?" I tease, and Tyler laughs.
"I hate that fucking nickname, and I haven't even moved there yet. As for the honeys, oh, that city is crazy hot, but I can do that still being a part-timer. Remember, we're now famous professional athletes!"
"Yea
h well, you can enjoy that particular side for the both of us. I'm off the market."
Tyler slows, and I stop. We're next to the big statue that's outside the stadium, put up back in the seventies after the basketball team won the national title two years in a row. Tyler turns to me, a half-smile on his face. "That serious, huh?"
I nod and reach into my jacket pocket. I pull out the little black case and show Tyler the diamond ring inside. "What do you think?"
"I think that you got it too small," Tyler says after he gasps, "but I'm touched. Of course I'll be your quarterback for life, Duncan! I didn't know you thought of me that way, but—"
"Oh shut up, asshole." I laugh. "Seriously, what do you think?"
Tyler looks at the ring for a second, and his smile widens. "I think it's great, man. Question, though, and don't get pissed, I'm just asking. Is this because of the distance? J-ville's a long way from Cali, you know."
"No. At least, not all of it," I reply. "I mean, I want to be with her forever, you know what I'm saying?"
"I had two girlfriends last month while prepping for the Pro Day. I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about," Tyler jokes, then grows serious. "But it's cool if you do. I’m just not there yet, man, but when I do, I hope it's with as good a girl as Carrie. When are you going to ask?"
I shake my head, shrugging. "I don't know. I mean, I was thinking of doing it last night, but she was a bit off, just not her normal self. I guess I'm looking for the right time to ask, that's all. I just picked up the ring yesterday from the jewelers. It took me nearly two hours just to pick it out online and put the order in."
"How many game checks is it costing you?" Tyler asks, and I shrug again.
"It could cost me my entire signing bonus, and I'll count it as worth it."
"Careful, you're going to end up broke on the side of the road before you know it."
I laugh and punch Tyler in his left shoulder. "Hardly. Actually, I got some good advice and the name of a good investment banker from one of my new teammates. I figure if he's good enough to handle Troy Wood's money, he can handle mine too."
"You got to hang out with Troy Wood? I hate that guy! He picked me off twice that Western-Clement game we played him!" Tyler rebukes me with a laugh. "Don't tell me you're buddy-buddy with the guy?"
"He's a good dude. Had me over to his house to meet his wife and two kids. He let me really bend his ear, just find out what it's like as a pro. Anyway, one of the big things he advised me to do, and it makes sense after what happened to my dad, is to just live below my salary. I'm not saying the man's a tight ass, but he and his wife drive used cars, and their only real splurge is his house, which even then isn't even one year's worth of his contract. He's put away huge amounts of his income, some saved, a lot invested, and he's got a guy who's beaten the market by ten percent each of the past three years. I'm going to be giving him a call soon."
Tyler nods and chews his lip in thought. "I see. You got the man's number?"
"Yeah, back at my place. I'll email it to you. But I'm going to do the right thing for Carrie. I love her, and yeah, I want to marry her."
Tyler shakes his head in disbelief and smiles. "All right, then. It's a good ring. I'll even be nice for you and not tell her you showed me a ring. How's that?"
"Thanks. I'll see you later. I've got lunch with Carrie in about twenty, and I don't want to be late."
I head off and get to the restaurant just before Carrie and I agreed to meet up. She had a lab this morning, and I want to give her a chance to relax after a stressful morning before we start our afternoon classes. It's been kind of nice this final semester of college to actually have classes that start late and end late, with no need to duck out early to make practice.
I see Carrie walking up, and I stand up, reaching out for a hug. "Hey, how was class?"
“Terrible,” Carrie grumps, dropping into her seat. "I'm totally screwing up this damn thing. I'm maybe going to get a B if I'm lucky and pull something out of my ass for the final."
"It happens to everyone. Don't sweat it. This hasn't been an easy semester for us."
"Yeah, well, I'm not the one without any classes starting earlier than ten four days out of five," Carrie complains, then stops. "I . . . I'm sorry, Duncan. That was uncalled-for."
I shake my head, refusing to get upset. How can I, when I have a ring in my pocket? "It's nothing, Carrie. You're right. I picked this semester to be a bit lazy. I'm going to finish my degree, but the fact is that despite my admiration of learning, my main degree was the one I just got signed to do. And you helped me with it. So yeah, I'm chilling out a bit, and no, it's not fair to you that you've been doing double-duty as my trainer and trying to keep up your own studies. You're amazing that way."
Carrie stops, and suddenly, she breaks down crying. I go to reach for her, and she pushes my hands away, wiping at her eyes. "No, no . . . it's nothing. Seriously, it's nothing. Let's just have lunch."
"Carrie, it's not nothing," I say, setting aside my water glass. "You've been disturbed ever since Draft Day, really, but it's kicked into high gear since we got back from Jacksonville. What's going on?"
"Just . . . hormonal," Carrie says before wiping at her eyes. "I'm okay. I'm afraid, Duncan. I still have a year of school, and you're going to be in Jacksonville . . ."
"We can handle that," I urge her, reaching across and taking a hand. “We talked about this with the team, remember? You can do your internship with their staff, and then finish out your degree in the offseason. That's not so bad, is it?"
"I know, but there are so many challenges."
"Carrie," I interrupt her, fear taking over. “Don't say that you're having second thoughts . . . about us?"
Carrie stops, her mouth dropping open. "You . . . you think that I'm . . . Duncan, I'm not having second thoughts at all!"
"Then, what is it? Because I'm worried, Carrie. You've been pensive, moody, like you said, hormonal—"
"Duncan, I'm pregnant!"
Every person in the restaurant stops at Carrie's yell, and heads turn on a swivel to look in our direction. I'm left in a daze again, blinking stupidly at Carrie as it all falls into place. The nervousness, the mood swings, the sudden desire for insane amounts of ramen . . . all of it. "You're pregnant? You're pregnant."
"Please, Duncan, I'm not trying to gold dig on you," Carrie starts, before I cut her off with a hug and a kiss. She resists me at first, before she realizes that I'm happy, and she melts into my arms, her lips softening and her hands coming to wrap around my neck while I lift her carefully into the air. When I set her down, I can see that she's crying. "You're not upset?"
I laugh and reach into my pocket, pulling out the box inside. "How about this for an answer?"
I get down on one knee, and I can hear the intake of breath from at least half a dozen people around us, and someone on the phone saying, "Oh my God, he just got down. I think he's going to propose."
"Duncan, how . . . why . . ." Carrie starts, but I cut her off by opening the box.
"Carrie Mittel, I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?"
Carrie nods, fresh tears streaming down her face, and I take her hand, sliding the platinum and diamond ring onto her finger. When it's done, the whole restaurant breaks into applause, along with a few cheers as well. Carrie looks at the ring one more time, still trying to find her voice, when someone interjects. "Hey, my sister-in-law wants to know if you say yes! Make it official!"
"Yes . . . yes!" Carrie cries out, finding her voice, smothering my face in kisses. "Oh God, yes!"
We hold each other, just letting our fears go, when Carrie chuckles. "This is a hell of a way to start lunch."
"Let's get some, shall we? Then we can get to class afterward."
Carrie nods and sits down, looking at her ring finger where her new ring sparkles. "I was so stupid, worrying about you. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. No regrets, Carrie. I've racked my head for days looking for the perfect m
oment to ask, when all the time, I should have just done it. I didn't have the ring then, but I would have asked you on Draft Day if I had the guts." I pick up the menu, then set it down, looking across the table at her. "So you've known a while?"
"Since Draft Day," Carrie says, looking down, ashamed. "I . . . I should have told you earlier."
She lifts her head, and when she sees my smile, she returns it, perking up. "Right, no regrets. I'm just glad I did say something."
"I think fate brought us together this way, you know?" I reply, opening the menu to decide what to order. "I mean, I seriously didn’t know about the baby. Actually, you know when I first started thinking about asking you?"
"Mission Park?" Carrie asks, and I jerk my head up, surprised. "Me too. You did go down to a knee there. Since then, you know, in those idle moments or when I've let my daydreams go a bit, I've seen it."
"Me too, although my fantasies are a bit more . . . well . . ."
Carrie laughs and gives me a look that sends warm tingles throughout my body. "Trust me. Me too."
"You really want to? It won't hurt you or anything?"
Carrie laughs and kisses me tenderly. We've decided to stay in to celebrate our engagement, relishing an evening without the stress of everyone else knowing.
"Duncan, you're an expert in football and a genius when it comes to pleasuring my body, but you don't know much about pregnancy, do you?"
"Well, I know there's a stork, and he'll come flying by somewhere around New Year's if my math is right, and then he drops the baby down a chimney, and viola! Am I close?"
Carrie rolls her eyes and chuckles. We're naked, but so far, we haven't done much more than just lay together on the sofa, and I'm enjoying the feeling of having her in my arms. "Not quite. Actually, after finding out about the baby, I did a lot of my own research online. I need to do some health-related stuff, but I can schedule that with the on-campus clinic before finals. Then over the summer, well, I guess you'll have to contact the Wildcats about adding me to your health insurance. Do they cover family?"
Mr. Fiancé Page 41