by Tara Brown
I have so many things I want to say, but I don't. I get it. Praying for other girls to get fat is what we do. “You all look amazing, so clearly you lost it quickly.”
“Took me a year,” the brunette answers.
“Me too. But my boobs were never the same again. I had to have them fixed after we finished having kids.” A blonde lady laughs. “Rock in a sock I believe is how Mark described them by accident.” She sounds a little drunk.
We all grimace and then try to recover with smiles.
Nat strolls over, earning the glares I used to get. I want to kick them all in the face, but I don't. I slap my seat on the lounger. “Come sit by me.”
“No.” She sits next to Liz on the huge beanbag chair. “You just want me to rub your shoulders. I’ve done my time.”
“Whatever.” I stick my tongue out.
“Cameras are done,” Nat says and smiles at everyone. “So we can all go back to being normal.”
“I was being normal the entire time.” The brunette gives her a shitty look, one I’d like to smack off her face.
“Cool.” Nat keeps her smile going. These girls don't scare her. They can’t. Nat has spent her entire life in the upper crust of assholish behavior. She’s a Jedi now in the art of tolerance. But I’m not. I take deep breaths, holding it all back.
“How’s Bev doing with the barbecue?” I change the subject. I protested that we’d do our own cooking, but no one wanted to let my cook do her job. Brady had a fit over paying someone to do something one of us could do. I think he sort of assumed he would be the one to do it.
“Rocking it. Brady just tried her barbecue sauce and he actually moaned a little. It was creepy.”
We all laugh.
The ladies start discussing the end of season, discussing their fabulous plans, but my gaze drifts across the patio to the pool filled with kids. They’re shouting and playing, with dads throwing them around.
My phone buzzes, drawing my gaze away.
It’s a text from Nat.
You’re making that face.
I sigh and text back: I still hate them. They’re gross and loud and annoying. What if he comes out and I still hate kids and I just sort of treat him the way my parents treated me?
Stop! You’ll be fine. You have me to tell you when your privilege is showing.
I cringe and force a pleasant smile over my lips while I pull on my sunglasses, hiding my eyes.
“Hey, Ford!”
I turn to see Lori at the edge of the pool. He’s glistening in the sunlight, young, fit, hot, and wet. It’s not awful. At all. Every face on the massive deck, turns and stares with me.
“Are the cameras finished?” He has a shitty grin on his face.
“No.” I want to lie and tell him they are, but I have a bad feeling about the reason he wants to know. “They’re taking distance photos to sell.”
“Oh, like we aren’t being stalked already.” He scoffs.
“Why?” I lower my glasses and narrow my gaze.
“Like how far are they from the house?” His grin grows.
“I don't know? Why?”
He giggles a tiny bit and shakes his head. “No reason.” He’s giggling like a little kid.
Someone screams and I jerk my head to the right as Natalie goes shooting off the giant beanbag chair and flying into the pool. Lori moves so she doesn't hit him. Brady’s on the beanbag, killing himself laughing. Liz dusts herself off as she gets up from the ground where she leapt at the last second.
Natalie surfaces, screaming, “BRADY!” She’s still holding her drenched phone.
He gets up and runs for it, but she swims to the edge and climbs out, tearing off after him.
Everyone’s laughing, except poor Matt who comes out of the house searching for me. When he sees me, I wave, showing him I’m okay. Between him and my mom I’m the most guarded human being in the world.
He sighs, scowling at Brady.
The baby is making the beast lose what little humor he had.
I get up, not using my stomach muscles, just like the doctor advised, and walk to him.
He’s cold from being inside the house, but it’s almost nice to cool off in his arms. “I’m fine.”
“That scream, seriously. It sounded just like you.”
“It’s Nat. I suspect Brady is taking a beating right now. He jumped off the pergola onto the beanbag, shooting her into the water.”
Matt winces. “He’s an idiot.”
“Lori helped.”
“They’re both dead.”
“Yup.” I sigh.
“Did you eat?” He’s already back to worried.
“No. I will when I’m hungry. Stop. I’m lucky I’m not four hundred pounds with you and my mom forcing food down my throat every two hours. I’m not hungry. I’m never hungry. I don't get the chance to get hungry.” I’m getting tired of eating.
“Okay, I swear, I’ll try to cut back on my worrying.” He nods.
“Nagging. The word is ‘nagging.’” I hope I’m expressing the right amount of annoyance.
“I know the doctor said everything’s fine, but I still feel like any minute something could go—”
“Stop,” I demand. “Kiss me.”
He cracks a grin. “Gladly.” He lowers his face to mine, brushing my lips softly with his before whispering, “Marry me,” in a low tone for the hundredth time.
“No.” I answer the same thing every time he asks.
“Please,” he whispers against my cheek.
“Not a chance in hell,” I whisper back.
“Take back the ring I got you,” he says between kisses.
“No. I never want to see it again.” I grin wide against his kiss. “You’re lucky you’re even here.” I torment him day and night, but never let him out of my sight. Not that I get to leave his sight. The only time I didn’t see him in June was when we was playing, and even then I watched it on TV. He wouldn’t let me come to the games, scared I would frighten the baby with my negativity.
He’s driving me insane.
“You’re breaking my heart, Sami Ford.”
“If I didn't, who would?” I pull back.
“My gran, she still isn’t talking to me.” His eyes tell me a story, another sad one.
“Awwww, Brimstone. Do you need me to feel sorry for you?” I stick my lower lip out.
“No.” He pouts.
“Maybe we should go see her. Together.”
“Like we're together? You’ll finally admit you love me and we’re a family?”
“No. Never.” I am so in love with him. “We’ll just go together and hang out and have fun and make her see that I’m fine and you’re fine and we’re fine.”
“I can’t show my face down there with you pregnant and us not married or engaged.” He backs away.
“He’s right,” Bev shouts from the doorway as she helps Nadia carry out the platters of food to the huge tables.
“We’re going. We’ll fly you home, Bev. I need to see this Gran.” I say it like it’s final.
“You shouldn't fly.” He goes for the saddest excuse ever.
“Really? That's all you have?” I laugh in his face. “I’ll see you on the plane, Brimley.” I saunter to the food, suddenly hungry when I smell the burgers.
“That meat is cooked all the way, right, Bev?” Matt asks Bev.
Her eyes meet mine, hostile and savage for a flash of resentment and then back to him. “Time to pop those balls back out, Matty. You’re kind of being a little bitch.”
His fellow players laugh as they come for food.
He glares at Bev, flipping her off. “Raw meat’s bad for pregnant ladies.”
“He has a point.” The brunette, I have officially decided I don't like, smiles and touches Matt’s beefy arm. “You’re right. It’s on the list of food to avoid.” Her hand stays there far too long.
Matt folds his arms with hers coming along for the ride. He gives me a smug grin.
“I can’t wait to
meet this grandma.” I grin at Bev.
“She’s gonna like you.”
“We’re going to see Gran?” Brady asks as he hurries through the crowd of us and runs across the yard. Nat comes staggering into the lanai moments later, huffing her breath.
“You can’t catch athletes.” I frown and hand her a towel as we walk from the crowd. “We don't exercise. Especially not the way they do.”
“You don't have to catch him.” Bev cocks an eyebrow and then glances at Brady, who’s looking too smug for his own good across the pool, and shouts, “We’re going to see Gran tomorrow. You guys in?”
“Hells ya, we are.” He nods.
Bev winks at Nat. “Trust me, he’ll get his.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, but if anyone can bust Brady’s and Matt’s balls, it’s Bev. She has her masters in ball busting. Nat’s actually taking notes.
Lori raises a hand as he towels off. “I’m in on Gran time. Carson said her old-lady pie is amazing.”
I cringe as everyone laughs, except Matt.
“No, perverts. She bakes pie. Like real pie. Not like ‘warm apple pie.’” He holds two fingers in the air. “Like real food.”
“Dude, you’re talking about my grandma!” Bev grimaces.
Matt’s stoic and unimpressed, but Nat, Liz, and I are dying.
“Whatever, haters. Carson’s gonna wanna come too”—he winks at Matt—“and not just because of Grannie’s pie.”
Matt bursts to life, chasing Lori down and throwing him in the pool, but Lori catches Matt’s hand at the last second, dragging him in too.
Everyone continues to laugh at their struggle against each other, dunking and splashing like children.
After the meal, and the show, the rest of the evening is relaxed. The closeness of the players is remarkable. They definitely are like brothers.
I prefer to hang with them, as usual. Nothing’s changed for me.
The kids are annoying.
The wives are overly nice, maybe making up for treating me the way they now treat Nat and Liz.
As dusk approaches, the guys head for the beach, lighting a fire to drink beer around. The coaches give Mike and a few other players who are being traded, a proper goodbye speech. They welcome back Matt, glad his little time away is over. Everyone has a drink to his dad. In the firelight I notice Matt doesn't drink. He nods as if grateful, but I know him. He won’t drink to his dead father.
That makes me sad, even though the man hated me.
As the night goes on, I’m exhausted.
When the sun sets, I curl up in a blanket on one of the large loungers and wait for the fireworks display.
Matt strolls up the beach to me, looking handsome on the dimly lit deck. The reflection of the pool dances across his face as he smiles when he sees me. “You getting sleepy?”
“A little.” I nod and move over so he can come and climb on with me. He wraps himself around me and holds me tight in his arms as he places soft kisses on the top of my head.
The warmth of him seeps through my clothes, bringing me to life in the strangest way.
Not since the limo, when I slapped him and ripped his clothes off, have I felt this way.
I turn to face him, sliding a leg up his, running my knee over his groin.
He tenses, darting his eyes my way.
My fingers slide up his chest to his neck and cheek, running my hands over his whiskers. His hair is messy again.
His eyes meet mine, overflowing with need and nerves. He swallows hard, shaking his head.
I nod as the first firework explodes, for me it’s in his eyes. It’s purple and I can see it clearly.
He reaches over, cupping my cheek in his huge hand. “We can’t,” he whispers.
“We can. I asked the doctor. He said everything’s fine and we’re totally back to normal. The spot is completely healed. My ultrasound was great. You were there for it. The tech said it was great.”
He runs his hand over the front of me, landing on my stomach. “It makes me nervous.”
“We can go slow.”
“That's what makes me nervous. I don't think we can.” He winces.
“We are.” I growl, gripping his face a little. He stares me down. “If you don't, someone else will.” I grin.
“Fine.” He narrows his gaze. “If you insist.”
“I insist.”
He lowers his face to mine and kisses softly, spreading my lips with his and grazing my tongue with his. His hands stay on my stomach as everyone cheers and moans over the fireworks.
For the second time, we miss the fireworks because we’re too busy making our own.
When I reach the point of no return, I break away, murmuring in his ear, “I’ll be waiting for you in bed.” I climb off and saunter into the bedroom to wait for him to say goodbye to all his friends.
But sleep takes me long before he gets there.
Chapter 31
Fearsome
July 5, 2016
Natalie
The plane ride isn’t long but everyone’s tired and a little hungover, except Sami and Matt.
Carson eyes up Sami nonstop. He’s been weird since she got pregnant. And she’s been weird with him back.
I don't know what’s going on, but I suspect he’s being a dick about the baby. He liked party-animal Sami. He liked having Matt and Sami to himself, separately. I don't think he’s come around to the whole relationship.
When we land at Henderson Airport the hot air blasts us all.
I grimace as Sami groans, “Oh God, it’s hot here. I forgot about the South in the summer.”
“Gran has air conditioning. We’ll be fine.” Bev smiles.
Lori wakes up, stretching and grinning at Bev. “We still on for the tour of the town?”
She flips him off and walks to the exit as Sami’s attendant gets the door.
“Stop hitting on my cousin,” Matt snaps.
“It’s better than me hitting on your girlfriend.” He winks at Matt.
Matt slugs him in the arm.
“Matt has a no-family rule.” Brady grins. “He’s fairly serious about it.” Brady tries to wink at Bev but she just rolls her eyes. When he sees my disgusted face, he laughs and leans in, kissing the side of my head. He pulls back and stares. His eyes get locked on mine for a moment and the humor vanishes. “I love you, Banks,” he mutters. “You know you’re the only girl for me.”
I grin my answer back.
The camera crew follows us off the plane, taking shots and footage of every second.
When we get to the limos we separate, half with one crew and half with the other. Sami and I are in the limo with Bev and the camera guy who always stares at Bev.
“Anything I should know before we get there, and before he turns the camera on?” Sami asks.
“She’s old fashioned. She’s going to hate the fact you’re not married or engaged. Matt’s her favorite. She makes everything from scratch and your money won’t impress her. It’ll insult her if you try to pay for things. She’s kinda rude, no filter. Nothing impresses her. She hated my uncle and my aunt. She still hates my aunt.”
“Yikes.” I don't know how we’re going to do with Sami and Matt being on the shit list and the grandma being a tyrant.
Even the camera guy winces.
“Yeah, should be interesting.” Bev grins.
When we get onto the interstate, it’s smaller than the ones we’re used to. We don't stay on it long. Then we drive past some fairgrounds and fields, loads of fields.
“Where the fuck are we?” the camera guy mutters.
“No doubt.” Sami leans forward. Her cool exterior is gone. She’s worried, as am I.
We drive by Henderson signs everywhere. Brady told me about his being down here. In his stories Matt’s grandma sounded nice. I don't know what to believe.
We drive through town, if you can call it that, past tiny houses and shitty-looking buildings. There’s no city in this city. When we leave town, I
get worried. “He doesn't live in the town part?”
Bev grins. “Oh, you city folk are about to see some country.” She chuckles and it’s evil. Just as she says it, we drive past a parking lot to some buildings and every vehicle is a pickup truck. “This is Deliverance country.” Bev waggles her eyebrows at the camera guy.
He swallows hard.
When we finally turn, we leave the pavement, headed down a dirt road. The camera guy looks like he might cry.
We pass horses and cows and fields until finally we arrive at a large white house, not large in Sami’s world, but compared to the rest of the houses we’ve seen, this one’s huge.
A brunette comes out, waving at the limos. She’s followed by others, all of them younger. Older men come strolling out of the barn, wiping hands on filthy rags. Every one’s wearing jeans and tee shirts and baseball caps in this heat.
Bev jumps out when the limo stops, smiling and waving. “Hey, y’all.” She throws on a thicker accent when she sees them.
They wait, staring, not greeting us or her. The camera guy gets out, filming, but I can see he doesn't want to.
I step out before Sami, feeling like I ate a beating heart and it’s lodged in my throat.
I take several deep breaths as Sami climbs out, pulling off her sunglasses and smiling. She’s offering the winning Ford family smile. It’s honestly the best feature she has. “Hi.” She waves at the gathered crowd.
No one speaks. Thankfully, the second limo pulls up. Matt and Brady jump out, all charm and happiness. The crowd shouts, rushing them, and leaving us here to stand awkwardly.
The camera guy kills it, watching us both look uncomfortable.
When Carson climbs out, he fixes his hair and puts on sunglasses, but his indifference fades the moment they attack.
Lori gets out of the car last, beaming and taking in deep lungfuls of fresh air. He suits this place, perfectly. He fits in straightaway, shaking hands and hugging girls and kids.
I sense we landed in an episode of whatever hillbilly fucking TV show is currently exciting.
My heart is pounding as an older man comes along, grinning wide. “You must be Sami,” he says to me.