Page 66 of Stepping Up to the Plate

• LOLA •

It’s the end of August and I’ve found my groove with work at the magazine and my blog. I’ve gotten to not only explore my new city but also myself thanks to all the writing I am doing. I am getting a much better handle on who the real Lola is, not the woman who tried to make everyone else’s life easier.

A huge part of that has been my relationship with Brady. He is more supportive than I ever knew a partner could be. I never had a great example of what a relationship was. The closest thing I had to role models for healthy relationships were Teresa and Steve, and they got together during my teen years. Plus I only saw them in the summer and sporadically during the year.

Brady’s support is major yet subtle. He justdoesthings. He noticed one of the lights was out in my bathroom and the next day it was magically replaced. I said I wanted to drink more water and a cute, emerald water bottle appeared on the island. I mentioned – in passing – that I missed the toasted ravioli from my favorite place in St. Louis and the next night I found myself at a hole-in-the-wall Italian bistro stuffing my face with cheesy, marinara goodness.

He never calls attention to these actions, simply does them as if they’re no big deal. Competency kink unlocked. It shines a stark light on how much crap I was putting up with in my last relationship.

When we first moved into our house, the porch light went off after a few weeks. I nagged Phil about it for months because I hated coming home to a dark house. After three months, I changed it myself and he had the audacity to complain that he preferred cool toned lights over warm toned ones.

Today is another example of Brady selflessly doing things for me and how much he gets me. It’s his only day off this week and he decided he wanted to use it to help me check another thing off my bucket list. I’ve been putting a lot of work into my blog lately. Thanks to a post about finalizing my divorce going semi-viral and Morgan tagging me in a few photos during her visit, I hit over 50k followers.

A man who loves surprises – giving not receiving – Brady won’t tell me what we’re doing. He won’t even tell me what to wear. He said to start off in workout clothes and he’ll have Tiffany pack the rest.

Normally surprises make me nervous since I am a type A person. But with Brady, I don’t worry about that. He is the most competent person I know. Whatever he has planned, he has thought through and made proper preparations for. It’s refreshing to be able to go with the flow. This must be how Tiffany feels all the time with Carina and my perfectionist asses constantly playing cruise director.

Being with Brady allows me to relax in a way I never could with Phil. Anytime my ex did anything ‘sweet’ or ‘considerate’ for me, they were way off base from what I truly wanted or secretly for him. I didn’t want fancy or showy. I wanted real. Booking a helicopter tour may seem romantic, but it isn’t for a girl who is afraid of heights. One Christmas I asked for a cheap espresso machine or French press. Instead, Phil got me an outrageously expensive tea kettle that was never once used. I could have been enjoying delightful lattes years sooner if he had given me what I wanted instead of whathewanted me to have.

As I slide on my sneakers, I hear a familiar knock. I grab my new water bottle and bound to the door. When I open it, Brady is there looking like a snack. It should be illegal to be as sexy in athletic shorts as he is. He kills me with those damn five-inch inseams.

He eyes me hungrily as his teeth roll over his bottom lip. “Good morning, sweet girl. That workout set is really doing it for me.”

“Thank you,” I reply. “You are quite delicious yourself this morning.” Standing on my toes, I give him a quick peck which, per usual, he deepens into a heart-stopping kiss.

“Ready to go? We have a tight schedule to keep,” he says as he pulls away.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet? Please don’t say you’re making me go for a jog. I’m not like you people. I don’t have the stamina.”

“You people? You mean athletes?” He questions.

“No, lunatics who think running is fun.”

He laughs. “It’s not that we think running is fun. We think it is beneficial, especially considering I have to do it as part of my job. It helps with stamina, which you don’t need since I am more than happy to hold you up when your legs give out.”

“Brady!” I admonish.

“What? I’m just saying. Is that the bag Tiffany packed for you?” he asks, pointing to the tote beside the door.

“Yep. She wouldn’t even let me peek at it.”

“Aww, poor baby,” he coos with a fake pout. “You’ll see what’s inside soon enough. Let’s get moving.”

Grabbing the bag – because God forbid, I carry it – Brady leads me to his truck. When he opens the passenger door, I am pleasantly surprised to be greeted by an iced latte and breakfast tacos.

“Yum! You’re the best,” I exclaim.

“You’re an easy woman to please,” he remarks as he slides into his seat. “The first stop is about forty-five minutes away. I figured you would need something to keep hangry Lola at bay.” Handing me the aux cord, he throws his car in reverse and we head to our first destination.

* * *

Brady and I enjoy a comfortable silence as he navigates us through the hills outside Nashville. When I am starting to seriously wonder where he is taking us, he pulls into Lavigne Vineyards.

“Little early for wine, don't you think?” I ask. “I’m down for a breakfast drink, but if this is how the day begins, you might actually have to hold me up by the end of the day.”

“Cheeky thing this morning,” he retorts. “What I have planned is better than wine. Come see for yourself.”

We walk for a few minutes, passing the main building and side yard where Carina had her ceremony. As we approach a pavilion with a makeshift fence around it, I finally notice mats laid on the ground and people stretching.

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