Page 89 of Catching Our Moment
Mia turned to Shaw and said, “That’s wonderful. But I’d like to hear more about Kelcie from Kelcie.” She gave me an encouraging nod. “I understand you have a son?”
“Yes, his name is Aaron. He’s in seventh grade, and no joke, he’s probably Shaw’s biggest fan,” I said and nudged Shaw, who stared at me with that side smile I loved so much.
“And you two knew each other in high school?” Shyla said.
I nodded. “We met when we were Aaron’s age, actually.” I enjoyed telling our story—where we started and what we’d become. Shaw joined in with his funny tidbits, and we entertained them through appetizers and ordering dinner.
“So, how long are you going to be in town for, Kelcie?” Davy asked.
“Just until Sunday. I need to get back for work and to Aaron.”
Gus shifted to Shaw. “What are you doing then?”
He studied the tablecloth. “We are still working out the logistics. I’m probably going to have to spend more time here until after the playoffs, but I’m hoping Aaron and Kelcie can come out. I know Aaron wants to get to some more games.” He winked at me.
“The team definitely needs you back. With Payton out with that knee injury and the hit Jones took last week, making him questionable, the post-season is not going well for the offense. They need to be able to pull you up.”
Shaw smoothed the imaginary creases from the cloth. “Yeah, that’s what I’m being told.” The table went quiet for a moment. “Like I said, we are still working out the logistics.”
“But you’re staying until after the game?” Shyla asked me.
“Yes, of course,” I said. “I wouldn’t miss watching him in action. I mean, after all that work I put in to get him there.” I swallowed hard, trying to put on a brave face.
“Good.” She tapped the table. “You can sit with me, then. Do you have a seat for her, Shaw?”
Shaw shifted in his seat. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “The same one.”
The same one Riley had with the other girlfriends and wives.
Shyla’s eyes narrowed at him. “Good. I’ll let the other women know.”
She smiled and told me, “Some of the players rent a suite for their wives and girlfriends to use for the season.” She pulled out her phone and handed it to me. “Give me your info, and we can coordinate.”
As I entered my information in her phone, panic gripped me. I would be taking Riley’s seat. I was going to be sitting in a seat formerly held by a model. A B-list actress, sure, but she was gorgeous and stylish and, even at games, perfectly put together. I was just…me.
I handed the phone back to Shyla, insecurities overwhelming me. Being married to James hadn’t exactly been a boost to my ego. He hadn’t been one to shower me with compliments, and over the years, I guess I’d had less reason to worry about how I appeared to others. But now…
Now, it wasn’t just about Shaw and me. I was going to be sitting in his seat, walking beside him, being seen with him—a place held before by supermodels and accomplished beautiful women. I wasn’t saying I was ugly, but I was the poster child for normal and forgettable.
And OMG, what would I wear? Did these women dress up for games? I was always decked out in Shaw’s jersey and jeans. Was that okay? Shaw was talking to the rest of the table about Aaron and his time on the podcast with TJ. Shyla leaned over and whispered, “Hey, are you okay? You’ve gone pale.”
I fidgeted with my napkin in my lap. “I feel like I’m out of my depth.” It popped out of my mouth before I could even stop it.
“How so?” Shyla said, a hand on the table close to me. “Why would you say that?”
I shook my head. “I’m not Riley, and I couldn’t even begin to imagine how to dress like that. I mean, this…” I ran my hand up and down, indicating my plain blue sheath dress and low heels. “This is the extent of me dressing up. I rarely take my hair out of a ponytail simply because I hate having it in my face.”
“My girl over here”—she motioned to Mia—“is a reformed tomboy. If I can get her in make-up, I’m sure we can find you some confidence with clothes. Don’t worry, girl. We got you. It’s just a game. I’ll be dressing for warmth anyway. I’ll call you tomorrow, and we can discuss it.” She patted my hand. “Listen…I’ve only known Shaw for maybe two years, but we all know he’s been holding out for someone—or something. Sweetheart, it was you. You could wear a burlap sack while all the other girls wear lingerie, and that man would still fall at your feet.”
“You just met me. How could you know that?”
“Because I know men. Anyone can see how he feels about you every time he looks at you. It’s in his eyes. And he hasn’t stopped touching you since you walked into the room. Honey, sometimes he forgot Riley was even with him.”
I cocked my head at her and gave a weak laugh. I knew she was exaggerating, but I loved that she was trying to reassure me. Shaw’s friends were good people—I loved that for him.
His hand slid over my knee—not sexually, just proprietary—and I rested my hand over his. It was the most natural movement. The gas firepit came to life outside on the patio, and I thought how different this life was from the one we had at home. First-class flight, penthouses, a private dining room on top of one of the tallest buildings in Charlotte, eating an expensive dinner with two professional football players, two of the best-known names in stock car racing, a glamorous emergency room doctor…and me.
How small my life must have seemed to him. I squeezed his hand to reassure myself that this part of our story was real as he continued talking about the draft class coming up. He was practically a household name. I was a divorced physical therapist raising a son alone, driving a sensible car, and living in a duplex—one my friend had given me a discounted rate for.
