Page 134 of Home Town Advantage
She walks over to the wall and starts carefully examining all the photos. As I knew she would, she looks closer to a frame that I know is unfamiliar to her. It’s a sketch. A drawing of this very court signedFinn’s Fantastic Designs. She turns to me with confusion written all over her face.
SIX YEARS AGO
I’m sitting in my condo in Philly with a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. I look in the mirror. My eyes look like I haven’t slept in weeks. I don’t think I have. I’m not sure I’ve slept in months. Not since he died.
Francesa was born two weeks ago. She was a huge baby. Everyone knew right away that she wasn’t Finn’s, and when the O’Sheas confronted Maddie, she confirmed it. The look of heartbreak on all three of their faces will forever haunt me. They thought they were going to have a piece of him, only to lose him all over again.
When I arrived at the hospital, my father begged me not to do it. How could I not? It was what Finn would have wanted. I owed him that much. I made a promise to him, one that I intend to live up to, no matter what it costs me.
I nearly vomited as the words left my mouth, telling them the baby was mine. The lie tasted so bitter that I wasn’t sure they would believe it, but they did.
Frank punched me in the stomach. Nancy slapped me across the face. I welcomed the pain. But it was Sulley’s face that devastated me the most. She hates me. She will forever hate me.
I sit down and look at the box Nancy sent me a few months ago. It’s some of his belongings she thought I’d want. I haven’t been able to muster up the courage to look through them, but I will now. Maybe there’s something I can send them to lessen the pain. As if anything could.
I open the box and see a handful of photos of him and me. I’ll cherish those forever. There’s a jersey and a few other items from our youth. The box is otherwise full of rolled-up paper. What is all this?
As soon as I unroll the biggest one, I realize what it is. It’s the house he was going to design for me. They’re unfinished sketches, but it’s very clearly what he and I had discussed Iwould want in a house. The bottom is signed,Finn’s Fantastic Designs.
They’re perfect. One day, I’m going to have the designs finished and build this house.
As I study them more carefully, I notice that the basement is unfinished. Besides a few measurements, there’s nothing there. I guess he didn’t get to it before he died. I wonder what he planned for that area. I guess I’ll never know.
I flip through more sketches. One is of the cabin. It’s an addition he planned to make there as his family grew. Family? Now he’ll never have a wife or kids.
I squeeze my eyes shut as more tears fall. I feel like I lost him all over again. That’s probably because I’ve lost the O’Sheas too. They’ve always been a second family to me, and now they’re gone. No more shared family dinners. No more Christmases celebrated together.
I flip through more sketches until a folder catches my eye. It’s titledBasement Options. Ah, this must be for that open space.
The first drawing is a traditional basement. The second is a game room. The third is a bowling alley. I smile. He loved to bowl. Most boring sport ever. We argued about that all the time. I’m convinced he did this one to fuck with me.
It’s the fourth drawing that stands out. I pull it out and study it carefully. It’s a basketball court. I wonder why he’d think I’d consider a basketball court in my house. I don’t play.
THIRTY-THREE
SUPER BOWL SUNDAY
SULLEY
Iwake in my hotel suite to a knock on the door. Quickly throwing on my robe over my pajamas, I make my way toward the door. Looking through the peephole, I see Vance standing there. What is he doing at my room? He’s not supposed to have any contact outside of the team today. It’s his big day.
I open the door in a rush and see him holding three dozen Chocolate Cosmos. Smiling, he says, “Happy Valentine’s Day, beautiful.”
Yep, the Super Bowl is on Valentine’s Day this year.
I quickly pull him inside and check the hallway to make sure no one else is around. I close the door before he’s noticed by anyone else. “You could get benched if someone sees you.”
He rolls his eyes. “It took every ounce of restraint I had not to sneak in here last night and sink my face and cock into your pussy. If management wants me to play well, they should have encouragedthat.”
I bite my lower lip, feeling a flush crawl up my neck at his words, as I admit, “I wouldn’t have minded it. After what you did to me behind the stage at the press conference, I was good to go, but we can’t do this today.”
My body tingles as I remember what his hands were doing to me under my dress with hundreds of reporters only a few feet away.
He places the flowers on the table, stands over me, and runs his index finger over my lower lip. “Are you telling me that you don’t want me, baby?”
I swallow and croak out, “Nope.”
He backs me to the wall and pins my wrists above my head with one of his big hands. With the other, he unfastens my robe. Running his finger gently over the swell of my breasts, he asks, “How about now?”
