Page 85 of Final Down

“I mean . . . if he throws an interception, that’s on you,” Jeff teases, and I chuckle until my back is turned to him again. Then, my lips settle into a knowing smirk.

Wyatt lines up behind the offense as I twist the cap from my bottle and take a sip of water. The first play is a shuffle pass that gains seven yards. A good start, and the crowd praises the team for it with a hefty roar. But there’s a lot more in that tank of his, and when Wyatt’s next pass is for thirty yards, I let myself mentally prepare for the long night ahead. Not just the celebration, the black jersey, and the red dress, but also the news I get to deliver when he’s done talking to the press about breaking more records.

Wyatt doesn’t know it yet, but we’re pregnant again.

And this one? She’s a girl. I just know it.

Epilogue

Three years later

I’m an old man.

To say I’ve been around or seen it all is only the tip of the damn iceberg. Hell, there’s some stuff I’ve damn near invented at this point. But this family . . . it’s my legacy. And I love every new member of it.

Eighty years is a long time to be on earth. I’ve lived most of those years hard, sometimes wild. My wife, Rose, sometimes calls me Kitten. My son teases me about it because I guess it sounds sexy or something. But I know the real reason she calls me that. It’s because of the nine lives I’ve got. I know I’ve burned through eight of them, though, so this last one—I’m going to take extra good care of it.

I’ve been so blessed. I’ve loved two women, deeply. My first wife would tell you I loved more than two, but all that dating between my marriages wasn’t love. It was a stupid man getting older and trying to stop time by surrounding himself with beautiful young women. I hope every single one of them foundsomeone a lot better than me after we parted ways. I’m sure they did. It isn’t hard.

How I convinced Rose to stay by my side beats me. She knew all the ugly parts of the Buck Johnson story—the bad ticker, and the obsession with a game and this town. She still decided to give this thing with me a try. Thirty-five years later and here we are, going strong. Seems our love story is inspiring.

I guess that’s why Peyton and her husband want me to do this minister thing for Wyatt’s mom and that fella she’s marrying. He seems like a real good guy. Retired firefighter who worked with her late husband. He seems honorable, and that’s important.

To get ordained so I could oversee her mother-in-law’s wedding, Peyton hooked me up on some website to fill out a questionnaire. But the minute she left, I had Rose drive me down to the town clerk’s office, and she set me up with the paperwork. Notarized it right there and everything. No clickety-clicking necessary.

“We’re almost ready, Grampa. Can I take you down the aisle?”

Peyton’s gentle touch is her superpower. I cover her hand as it rests on my arm and glance up at her for a moment to admire how she looks when the desert sunlight kisses her hair.

“You’re so much of your mom, you know that? All the pretty parts. Now, that temper? That’s your dad.”

She laughs with me, leaning down to kiss my cheek before guiding my wheelchair to the end of the brick pathway that cuts through the middle of the town square. It’s a nice setting to make some vows.

Peyton wheels me up the small ramp to the platform in front of the rows of white chairs while guests filter to their seats, the soft hum of a violin playing behind me. My granddaughter gives my hand a squeeze, then skips down the ramp to join the other bridesmaids who are gathering in the back. Her mother-in-lawmade her the matron of honor. And I guess Wyatt has the honor of giving his mother away. Seems to me they’re doing this whole thing pretty damn right, especially for a second time.

I clear my throat and flip through the cards in my hand, my speech peppered with my famous jokes.Hey, they knew what they were getting.The music shifts, and soon, my great-grandson Warner meanders down the aisle, his little sister, Serena, tugging on his arm and asking him to stop every few steps. She’s gone and flipped her dress up over her head by the time they make it halfway down the aisle, so Peyton rushes in and scoops her up, leading her and Warner to the first row, where Nolan and my son are waiting to keep those two tethered for the next twenty minutes.

Peyton rushes to the back rows again in time to re-walk the aisle along with Jeff, the groom. I don’t know the next two couples who join the party, but I’m sure by the end of the night, we’ll all be friends. When Wyatt and his mom step into view, I find myself getting caught up in . . .what is it Peyton says?The feels? I get teary is all, something about this whole day reminding me of my wedding to Rose. And the times when both of my boys made this trip to promise their hearts to great women. My other granddaughter will be doing this one day, but she swears her wedding will be in London. She spent a year there for college, so it’s her entire world right now. The world is big, though, just like life. And by the time she’s ready, she may decide she wants something else entirely. I just know I’m gonna do my damnedest to be here to see it.

Wyatt kisses his mom’s cheek and brings her hand to Jeff’s. The big fella wipes away a few tears of his own, so I chuckle and swat at his thigh, teasingly. We share a smile as I hand him a handkerchief.

“And we’re off to the races,” I begin.

Our guests laugh and take their seats.

I begin with the traditional stuff, sharing my perspective on love as the town elder. But it’s when I talk about second chances that everyone gets quiet.

“You both had great loves. It’s so easy at the beginning to imagine that the road is going to go one way, but that’s not how adventures work. Love and life aren’t simply a trip. They’re a journey. And we must be willing to ebb and flow, to bend with the curves and hit the brakes or go full throttle when the road calls for that. When life slowed down, both of you hit your brakes at the same time, and it brought you to an intersection. You had a choice. Wave the other through or turn and follow them home. I think it’s safe to say you both made the right choice to throw out the maps and follow your instincts—and each other.”

I pause for the sniffles in the crowd, as well as the ones from the bride and groom.

“I didn’t expect to makesomany people cry with that bit, but I guess I’ve gotten pretty good at speeches over the years.”

There’s a soft, collective chuckle among the crowd. I give everyone a moment to find their tissues, then begin with the vows. In all, the entire ceremony lasts maybe fifteen minutes, but it’s this next bit that kicks off the long part of the night—the party.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present Mr. and Mrs. Jeff O’Neill.”

The whistles are piercing, but they’ve got nothing on the bagpipes that kick in as the newly wedded couple makes their way down the aisle under a shower of birdseed and bubbles. Firefighters love that crap, but I don’t know—those things areloud. Peyton and Nolan both insist it’s romantic, though, so what do I know?

---