By the kickoff, most of the guys have joined us on the deck. Emmy, Camilla, and Callie stay inside and watch the game on the huge flat panel displays in the air-conditioned suite. The Sentinels lost the coin toss, and now Troy Duffy takes the field for kickoff. Again, the stadium explodes with excitement as the Jaguars catch the ball in the end zone. Once the excitement dies down, we all sit back down again, watching the defensive team take the field. I can’t take my eyes off the gorgeous quarterback standing on the sidelines, watching each play.
“You know, Jette, the game’s over there,” Derek teases, pointing to the line of scrimmage. “Most people come to watch the game, not ogle the players.”
“Oh, yeah? Then how come it’s okay for you to stare at the cheerleaders the whole time? Shouldn’t you be paying more attention to the game yourself?” I point out.
Derek just shrugs his shoulders and laughs. “Yeah, but I’m just a guy. I can’t help it. We’re pigs.” Reese rolls her eyes and gives a big huff. She puts on a good show when it comes to Derek, but the big grin splashed across her face can’t hide how she really feels.
My heart pounds as I watch Evan strap on his helmet and take his team onto the field and into a huddle. Evan takes his place behind the line of scrimmage and I hear his voice booming throughout the stadium, “Right arrow, right arrow, set, check check check.” He looks up and down the field then calls, “Blue 25, Blue 25, hut, hut, HUT!” The ball is snapped and I’m on the edge of my seat, my eyes fixed on Evan.
Emmy grabs my arm and points to the stadium’s huge video screen focused tightly on Evan as he scans the field. I can see the look of determination in his face as he searches for a receiver. I feel like everything is happening in slow motion. When he spots an open man, I see his biceps tighten as he reaches back. Quick as lightening, he releases the ball and sends it barreling towards Shaun. It’s a little high and Shaun has to jump for it, but he easily swipes the ball out of the air and comes crashing down under the crushing weight of two defensive tackles.
Reese’s breath catches in her chest and I don’t see her breathe again until Carlo offers him a hand up. Shaun tosses the ball to the refs and rejoins Evan and Carlo in the huddle.
I turn to Willow and ask, “How many more times is that going to happen?”
She laughs at my naiveté and chuckles, “Oh, not too many. Only about sixty more plays to go.” She sees the shock in my face and tries to calm me. “I know it seems like a lot, but you get used to it ... eventually.”
“Sixty? You’re kidding, right?” Reese asks, her face ashen.
“I wish I were.”
The first quarter passes by so slowly it is painful. My heart stops with each impact, wondering which blow will deliver the most harm. How is it possible to take three quarters of an hour for the game clock to move only fifteen minutes? And how much punishment can one body take?
The second quarter is no better. In fact, it’s worse. Evan is tackled hard when he tries a rushing play through the line. I see him struggle to get up. Although he puts on a brave face, I can tell he’s hurt. He hides his pain well, sucks it up and keeps on playing. When the team leaves the field for halftime, the Sentinels are losing to the Jaguars ten to seven.
Our waitress returns with trays of appetizers. She barely puts the tray down when the guys attack. You’d think they’ve never seen fried ravioli or pulled pork nachos before.
The girls and I are tempering our drinking with rounds of bottled water. As I begin passing out the ice-cold bottles of Perrier supplied in the suite, my phone rings. It’s Auggie. His plane must have landed in Alaska.
“Hey Jepetto. We just landed in Anchorage. I only have a minute before we take off for Seward. I’m watching the bags while the girls get us a rental car.” It sounds like he’s super excited.
“How was the flight?” I ask.
“Long. I’m just glad to be on solid ground. I can’t believe that in about three hours, I’ll be in a national park on a glacier with Lucas. Can you believe it?”
“Call when you land, please. And don’t forget to send pictures,” I remind him.
“You’re being very bossy for someone who was supposed to send me pictures of Evan’s fancy suite,” Auggie teases.
“Oops. Sorry, Aug. I’ll send them right away. I got a little ... distracted. You’ll see. When you land, you’ll forget all about sending me pictures, too. But I’ll forgive you.”
“You’re probably right, Jette my Pet.” I hear Auggie talking to someone else. The girls must be back with their car. “Gotta run, kiddo. The girls are here. We’re off on our Alaskan Adventure. Love you!” When Auggie hangs up, I walk around the suite taking pictures to send to him.
The Jaguars make the first touchdown of the second half and the score is now seventeen to seven. I’m a bundle of nerves. I know Evan can’t win every game, but I pray to God to let him win this one. It’s his first home game. He earned this. He deserves it. I see him talking with Coach Vinciguerra on the sidelines. Evan is nodding a lot. They must be adjusting their strategy.
When Evan’s offensive team takes the field, I watch with pride and joy as Evan makes first downs over and over again until, in no time at all, it’s second and goal. We hear Evan’s voice echoing throughout the stadium, “Shotgun. DC Right. Flip 90. Dig. On the Center. On the Center. Hut, hut, HIKE!” When the ball is snapped, a hole right in the middle of the line opens and Evan slips right through. Touchdown!
All Evan’s teammates stop dead in their tracks. Evan hands the football to the nearest referee as music fills the stadium. Everyone around him freezes in their tracks except Evan, who’s dancing alone, looking silly and ridiculous. Once I realize they are playing the Harlem Shake, it all makes sense. The moment the rhythm drops and the bass sounds kick in, the rest of the team spring to life. Carlo, Xander, Anthony, and Shaun run over to join him in the end zone and start dancing like maniacs. The crowd jumps to their feet, dancing. It’s bedlam. I knew about touchdown celebrations, but I’ve never seen anything like this.
The music dies down, the guys make their way to the sidelines, and Troy Duffy takes to the field for the extra point. I watch in amazement at his ability to concentrate and focus among the deafening sea of cheering fans. When the ball is snapped, a hush falls upon the stadium. All eyes watch as the football glides through the air and successfully reaches its target. The crowd roars when they see Troy earn the extra point. The score is now seventeen to fourteen. The Sentinels are still behind, but not by much.
After the end zone dance, the momentum has clearly shifted in our favor. The Sentinels are now dominating on the field. Evan’s on the field more than he’s not. Near the end of the third quarter, they call Troy back for a field goal attempt. We all hold our breaths as the ball is snapped. Troy is attempting to make a fifty-two yard field goal, which, if successful, will tie the game. I don’t know much about football, but I do know that is a nearly impossible distance. Willow assures me it’s been done before and he could make it happen. We watch breathlessly as the ball soars toward the field goal. From the angle of our seats and the distance from the goal, it’s hard to tell if it’s good. The cameras pan to the head ref who holds both hands straight up in the air and announces, “Field Goal”. The score is now tied at seventeen.
Throughout the fourth quarter, both teams take turns moving the ball up and down the field, neither successful in their drives towards the end zone. With two minutes left in the game, the Sentinels make an interception and gain control of the ball with only twenty-five yards to go.
Again, Evan’s voice reverberates throughout the stadium, “Wichita, Wichita. Blue 25, Blue 25. Hut, hut, HUT!” My eyes are transfixed to the big screen, watching in terror as Evan searches for a receiver. No one is open. The linemen are holding back the rushers, but barely. Evan backs up a yard or two and slips to the right. He plants his feet in the ground and throws the ball into the end zone. With such a small chance of success, he’s taking a great leap of faith that someone wil
l be there to complete his Hail Mary pass. The stadium is humming with excitement as the ball flies down the field. Out of nowhere, Carlo Rivera hooks right and snags the ball. Touchdown, Sentinels!
There is less than a minute left on the clock and unless something unforeseen happens, Evan has just won his first home game of the preseason. The crowd goes wild, and that includes every single occupant in our suite, even the reticent Marise family. The extra point is good. The clock runs out. The final score is twenty-four to seventeen and I think I am the proudest woman in the world.
We all gather at the Chateau after the game. Evan’s parents agree to stop for a while before they continue their drive up north. Our home is about halfway between Atlantic City and their home in Cedar Grove. Callie, Reese, and I busy ourselves putting out food for our guests while Marcus and Derek begin making drinks.
Emmy and Adam have disappeared. Emmy made some remark about wanting to give Adam the grand tour of the Chateau, but I suspect they slipped away for some private time. I swear, those two are always going at it like rabbits and if they’re not careful, they’re going to have lots of baby bunnies running around.
“It could take a couple of hours for Evan to get home,” Callie explains. “He has team meetings and post game interviews to give. He’s got to shower, turn in his uniform, and then drive home.”
“Now, Juliette, I have to warn you. He’s going to seem fine today, excited and exhilarated even,” Jill warns. “But come tomorrow, his body will be feeling the pain from the hits he took today. He’ll be sore and grumpy. Don’t take it personally. It doesn’t last long.”
John, Marcus, Derek, and Dean are all gathered around the television watching the game highlights on Sports Center. It’s interesting listening to them dissect the plays and critique each call. Of course, the calls made against Evan were solely due to bad decisions made by the refs or coaches. And the calls made in the Sentinel’s favor were all spot-on and well made.
But as I listen, I learn a little more about the game and their limitless respect for Evan. They mention his improved footwork and how he hasn’t lost any of his reflexes or grip since his hand surgery.
The ESPN sportscasters announce the postgame team conference is about to start and we all gather around the television, waiting to see Evan appear on the screen. When they queue up the conference, sitting at the table are the head coach and Wide Receiver extraordinaire Carlo Rivera, but noticeably absent is quarterback Evan McGuire.
My mind immediately goes to that dark place. He’s hurt. He’s with the team doctor. Something happened. But why didn’t my phone ring?
I ask my brother-in-law for his thoughts, “Dean, why isn’t Evan there? You said he’d be at the postgame conference. Do you think something’s wrong?”
Dean looks puzzled, “He might be with the trainer or getting checked by the team physician. I remember this one game against San Francisco when Evan took a helmet to the ribs. They taped him up and sent him for x-rays. He had a hair-line fracture and was on the disabled list for a week.” The thought of Evan becoming disabled terrifies me. “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Dean clarifies.
“The hell it’s not. It hurt like hell.” All our heads twist towards the front door, and there is Evan standing in front of us, fresh as a daisy. Standing beside him is Shaun Marise.
We all bombard Evan with questions. Why is he here? Why isn’t he at the press conference? Is everything alright?
“He’s fine!” Shaun’s voice feigns exasperation as Evan takes long strides directly towards me. “Didn’t any of you watch the game?”
My feet are frozen in place as Evan reaches me, my eyes tracing his every move and my heart bursting with joy. Evan wraps his strong arms around me and I throw my arms around his neck, showering him with adoring kisses all over his beautiful face.
“What are you doing here?” I demand an answer. “You’re supposed to be there,” I remind him, pointing at the press conference still going on.
“Baby, last time I celebrated a victory on the field, you were fighting for your life. I wouldn’t be any good answering their questions. All I could think about was running home to you. All I kept thinking about was you. I’m not able to concentrate when you’re not with me. I can’t think straight unless I know where you are. If you ever want to see me do a postgame interview again, we’re going to have to come up with a plan for you to wait with me at the stadium, or I’m just going to keep running home to you again and again.”
“I think we could work something out,” I gloat, grateful that he’s okay and overjoyed that he loves me.
Evan makes his way around the room, greeting everyone and getting more than his fair share of admiration. Evan and Shaun are hungry, thirsty, and tired. Reese and I make sure to take good care of our men for the rest of the night.
Evan’s parents and sister leave shortly after Evan arrives. They still have a rather long drive ahead of them.
One by one, we all find our way out onto the Veranda. There’s a cool breeze and it’s still early, just a little before nine o’clock. There’s a full moon and an eagle soars high overhead, joining its mate in a nest atop a dead tree by the river.
Emmy and Adam reemerge from their rendezvous, looking slightly flushed with satisfied grins on their faces. Evan pulls me onto his lap and whispers in my ear, “Have they been upstairs this whole time?”
“They have. I guess we don’t have to worry about breaking in the guest room,” I giggle.
Emmy demands everyone’s complete attention. “Okay, nerds, listen up. I have the final plans for the most amazing Gender Blender Pre-Wedding Party for Marcus and Camilla.”
Derek doesn’t look pleased. “No way. Marcus is getting the best bachelor party ever. If you think for one minute that we’re going to follow you girls around all night and hold your hair while you puke like last time, guess again.” He looks at Reese, but she refuses to make eye contact with him. “Am I right, guys?”
Marcus responds first, “I don’t know, man. I’m not crazy about the idea of having my girl out there drinking without me. Just doesn’t feel right.” Adam and Evan chime their agreement.
“Exactly what I thought you would say,” Emmy agrees. “That’s why I booked us all a one-night cruise to nowhere. Evan’s game is Friday night in East Rutherford, so he’ll be home at a decent hour. Saturday morning, we all report to the dock in Bayonne at nine o’clock, in time for departure. The girls spend the day at the pool or the spa. The guys can join us or go rock climbing or to the tennis courts. We’ll all meet up for dinner and go clubbing. The ship has dance clubs, bars, and even a piano lounge. We could see a show together or split up and do our own thing. We sleep it off in our cabins and return to the port after breakfast.” Emmy looks around the group, waiting for a reply. “It’s going to be epic.”
Everyone is excited about Emmy’s plans. She’s absolutely right, it’s going to be epic. Marcus and Camilla deserve the most amazing party, and this certainly fits the bill.
With the wedding just one month away, Camilla and Marcus give us the final details. Emmy and Derek will be the maid of honor and best man, but other than them there is no wedding party. They are paying for the wedding themselves and wish to keep things simple and intimate. They are getting married at a vineyard in Cape May and the reception will be in a tent right on the property.
Natalie and I will be making the wedding cake. The vineyard will be handling the food and spirits, including a wine tasting. It sounds perfect and wonderful and my mind drifts to my own wedding sometime not too far away.
I look over at Marcus and Camilla and how happy they are together and how honored I am to be included in their special day. Camilla smiles contentedly as Marcus wraps a loving arm around her.
On the other side of the veranda, tucked away in a corner are Adam and Emmy. She’s sitting on his lap and Adam is putty in her hands. I know that look, I’ve seen it before on Evan’s face. I think the two of them might just make it work for the long hau
l. I certainly hope they do. At the rate the two of them seem to be moving, they just might beat Evan and me to the altar. And if they do, I’ll proudly stand beside them both.
Evan and I sit together, fingers entwined, listening and observing. “You look very starry-eyed, baby. What are you so deep in thought about?” he asks.
“Weddings, showers, and honeymoons. How happy I am and how lucky we are.” I look up into his sparkling blue eyes, and he rewards me with the most amazing smile and dimples that still make my heart flutter.
“It’s really been a perfect day,” Evan gloats. “What do you say we make it even better?”
“Not possible,” I chuckle.
“I think I can. There’s only one thing that could make this day better. Want to know what it is?” he persists.
“Sure, chief. What do you have in mind?”
“Let’s pick our wedding date.” Evan leans closer to me, placing his lips upon my cheek and whispering in my ear. “I cannot wait to make you my wife. How does Valentine’s Day sound?”
“How do you keep doing that? Day after day, you find a way to sweep me off my feet.” I kiss him with all the love and devotion I have to give. When we break apart, I give him my answer. “Yes, Evan. I will marry you on Valentine’s Day.”
Evan stands up and announces to our friends, “Hey, everyone. We just picked our date. We’re getting married on Valentine’s Day.” Evan takes me by the hand, helps me to my feet and spins me around in circles.
Everyone rushes around us to offer their congratulations. Derek walks right up to Evan and shakes his hand offering his own little wisdom for the occasion, “Good choice, Mac. You’ll never get in trouble for forgetting your anniversary.”
As it begins to get late, the girls and I start to clean up the mess before everyone leaves. The men bring us their dirty glasses and dishes, and then gather around the television to see how some of the other teams did today. Emmy, Reese, Camilla and I are filling the dishwasher and discarding the leftovers when suddenly, everything grows eerily quiet.
Running Home to You (The Running Series) Page 40