Page 93 of Love in Fine Print

“Whitaker!” Coach Graham’s voice boomed as he crossed the room toward me and pulled me into a bear hug. “Glad you could make it, son.”

I patted his back. “Of course, Coach! I wouldn’t miss it.”

His hands gripped my upper arms as he leaned back and looked past my shoulders. “Where is that beautiful wife of yours?”

“She had court today, so she wasn’t able to come.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. I really like her. I’m happy that you found a good one, son.”

Coach Graham was right, as always. I had found a good one. And I had no clue if I was going to be able to hold on to her.

“So you two thinking about kids yet?” Coach Graham asked as he squeezed my arms.

“Oh, um, no. Not yet.”

“They just got married, Ted.” Madeline Graham swatted her husband on his chest as she joined us. “Let them have some time to enjoy each other.”

“Nice to see you, Mrs. Graham.”

“Madeline,” she admonished as she lifted on her toes and kissed my cheek. “Good to see you, too. Oh, was Darla able to help you with your paperwork?” she asked.

“She was.” Darla, Madeline’s sister, worked for a non-profit and had helped me with Olivia’s Valentine’s Day present. I’d set up a scholarship in her dad’s name for kids to go to trade schools. “Thank you.”

“That is such a sweet gift you gave Olivia. Did she love it?”

“She did.” Her eyes had filled with tears, and she’d jumped me. I’d found that when she was overwhelmed emotionally, she expressed herself physically. It was one of my favorite things about her.

“Glad you could dress for the occasion,” Coach Graham teased.

I grinned, not making excuses for my attire. Accountability was something Coach Graham had instilled in his players. It didn’t matter what outside circumstances may have affected the outcome, you were solely responsible for it.

“Ted!” A loud voice boomed from across the room.

Coach Graham’s head turned. “Oh, there’s Bill. Good seeing you, son. We’ll catch up tomorrow.”

I was going to be heading over to the Coach’s house for a barbeque with some of the guys tomorrow since a lot of us had flown in for the party.

“Rocket Man!” Gus Benson, my center for eight out of the ten years I played, called out from the bar.

He’d retired two years before I had because of a back injury. He’d come to the wedding, but I’d barely been able to say two words to him. The entire day was sort of a blur.

I crossed the room and lowered down onto the stool next to him.

“So, how are you liking retirement?” he asked as he handed me a beer.

I nodded as I took a sip of it. “It’s good.”

“Bullshit. You hate it.”

“No, it’s just different, that’s all.” I’d never expected to miss playing as much as I did. I hadn’t actually realized how much I loved the game until I retired.

“So, where’s your hot wifey?”

“She had court.”

“Court?”

“She’s a lawyer.”

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