Page 35 of I Got You

She rests her head on the couch. “This will be so weird. You do realize we’ll be husband and wife. Legally bound together.”

I take a sip of my beer. “Yeah, about that. I haven’t said anything to anyone about this. I’ll have to tell my agent, and he’ll want to publicize it before it’s leaked. Good press so to speak.”

“Great. I guess we’ll make the news along with my dad’s passing. His agent called me. Rumors are circulating, but nothing has been confirmed yet.” She pauses and pushes out a breath. “So, in public, we’re going to have to seem like newlyweds?”

“Yeah, especially if we want everyone, including your aunt and uncle, to think this is real. Actually, the press might help in that case. When do you want to do this?” If we’re going to do it, I’d rather not wait. “The season starts in a couple weeks. We should do it before then so I can move my stuff. Plus, I have no doubt my agent will have reporters at the first game, and they’ll be asking questions.”

“Ok. The sooner, the better, probably. When news breaks about my dad, it will seem like we’ve had this planned for a while. Hopefully, Cliff and Joan will think the same. Maybe we can go to the courthouse this week. I want the kids to be there, so I’ll see if I can pull them out of school for a bit.” She rubs her face. “Is this totally insane?”

I take a sip of my beer. “Yeah.”

She hits my arm. “You're supposed to make me feel better. Tell me this is all going to be ok.”

“Is that going to be one of my responsibilities? Lie to make you feel better.” I turn to meet her eyes.

She pulls a Nerf gun off the floor, and I try to block her shot. “Actually, yes, husband. That’s going to be part of your role. When my day sucks, and everything falls apart, and I’m scared out of my mind, you’re going to try to make me feel better.”

“That so.” Like I have a clue how to make someone feel better. Shit. I’m going to need a manual.

“Well, I guess we’ll see. You’ll likely be terrible at that. It’s hard to make someone feel better with all that scowl and grumbling, you big grizzly bear.” She laughs, and I let my head fall to the back of the couch.

“As long as I get to make my own list of responsibilities, wife.” That is a word I never thought I’d use in context to myself. Shiiiittt. Yet, looking at Maggie and seeing just a hint of a blush, maybe it won’t be so bad. Good thing I’m an empty man, heartless, because if not, it’s quite possible I could find myself in trouble with this woman.

∞∞∞

“Hold on. Wait. Wait, just a long frickin’ second? Did you just say that you’re getting married? To…The Rocket’s…daughter?” Mark asks the last part with distinct clarity, like it’s a detonating code.

“Dude. Did I even know he had a daughter?” Sean wonders out loud.

I’ve been dreading this call to my brothers from abandoning mothers. Not because these morons wouldn’t be the first guys I’d tell, it’s just that I know I’ll never hear the end of it.

They know I’ve had no intention of getting married. Ever. So calling to break the news after living in Colorado for a month is sure to blow their minds.

“I’d like to hear how the conversation went when you told The Rocket you were going to be shacking up with his daughter.” Mark’s cocky ass thinks he’s funny.

I pull into the driveway of the house I just moved into and will be moving out of in a matter of days. Before I left Maggie’s tonight, I told her I needed to tell these two idiots about us getting married, and she told me I could tell them about her dad as long as I trusted them. As ridiculous as they are, I trust them with my life.

When I told her that one of them was Mark Sandberg, the stereotypical NFL playboy, she looked at me blankly for about five seconds, then smacked my arm for not saying anything when she and Cole were talking about him. She then made me promise to keep quiet about her unqualified observation.

“I won’t be discussing this with Tim.” I pause. “He died a couple weeks ago.” Silence takes over the line. “And there are young kids involved, so you two need to keep your mouths shut even when this hits the feed.”

“Damn,” Sean says, like his mind is blown. “The Rocket. He was a legend. He’s the reason we all made it.”

The three of us spent Sundays watching Tim call plays and make passes that we could only dream of attempting to emulate one day. By some miracle and despite our circumstances, the three of us were able to attend his camp.

We spent a couple weeks learning from the man we watched replay after replay of and tried to mimic. He worked with us and encouraged us. He made us believe that we could actually make it if we gave it everything we had, and we did. His confidence gave three young men with no hope or real possibility a chance in a world that told us we’d never amount to anything.

From that point on, we worked night and day. Football was everything, and somehow we made the high school team, which led us all to play college ball.

“Is that what this is about? Are you doing her some kind of legal favor?” Mark’s skepticism is evident.

“I’m not discussing that. It’s between Maggie and me.”

“The kids,” Sean states, and it's as if I can hear a light bulb go on. “Is this about the letter?”

These guys are the only two people besides my social worker when I was five that know about the letter. Given that we have no parents or family, I let them read the letter one summer when I was trying for the millionth time to understand. We haven’t talked about it since. Part of me is surprised that Sean even remembers, but he’s definitely the most perceptive of us.

“I’m not talking about that either,” I say, closing the subject. The line is silent as I close the garage door and enter my empty house.

---