Daylight, page 18
After a short wait, the staff member hands me two baskets filled with chicken tenders and fries. I grab a handful of condiments and napkins to take back to our seats, and Quinn makes it back at just the same time as me with two hard seltzers. We trade off and enjoy our food with a view of team warm-ups in front of us. My eyes lock in on Alex and a few of his receivers, specifically Mike and Lonzo.
I look down at my watch and there’s still half an hour until kickoff. Quinn and I talk back and forth, she asks me questions about different players and I tell her everything I can— in a hushed voice— to pass the time.
A woman who can’t be much older than me sits down next to me, holding a little boy, followed by who I assume is her partner or her sister. It’s hard to say. The kid smiles at me, and I smile back. Unsure why, something pulls at me. I want to talk to these people despite having no earthly idea who they are.
“We’re matching!” I smile, pointing at his jersey. He’s wearing the same blue Bradford jersey that I am, and it sends an unfamiliar feeling shooting through my body.
He bashfully hides his face in his mom’s chest, making both her and I laugh. “Oh, don’t be shy,” she shakes her head. “He loves him, he’s super excited to see him play again tonight. We all are.”
“I hear ya.” I smile, unsure how to respond in a way that won’t immediately blow my cover. Suddenly I’m the one who’s gone bashful.
“Do you come to games often?” She asks.
“Oh, um, not really,” I shake my head, lying through my teeth. Although, maybe it isn’t a lie, because it’s never in this capacity… “Had to make it out for the occasion!” I say, hoping she buys it.
“Us too!” She exclaims. “Gosh, my husband was so upset he couldn’t make it, but something came up with work. This is my cousin, Ashley.” She introduces her cousin, but I still don’t know her name, or her kid’s.
For the next five minutes, I make small talk with the mom, whose name I still haven’t learned. Luckily, the kid on her lap required her attention, drawing her away from our riveting conversation about Chicago football.
Once the National Anthem has been performed, the captains head out for the coin toss. The Comets win, so they’ll start with the ball. We have a pretty good, unobstructed view of everything. I’m able to explain everything to Quinn in a way she understands, because according to her, “the word first down means nothing to me”.
Alex looks really good. He’s playing like there was never anything wrong in the first place. I know he was nervous, I was nervous, Portwell was nervous— I think we were all nervous— but he’s playing seamlessly.
My eyes keep wandering off to the little kid next to me, though. He can’t be much older than three years old, hanging on the railing cheering on Alex, wearing his number on his back. He’s having a marvelous time since the Comets are currently leading, cheering alongside his mom.
Overwhelmingly and all at once it just sort of hits me; I see myself in this little boy’s mom.
Rather, I want what this little boy and his mom have. I want to be in the stands, cheering on the man that I love with our son. Not now, not even a year from now, but in the next few years, that’s something that I want.
That realization hits me out of nowhere. It’s something I’ve never really thought about before. With my job it’s never even been a thought, the crazy hours during football season, the traveling. But watching this interaction has put a burning hole in my heart… I want a family someday. I can say that with complete confidence.
My grandma has always said I would be a good mom, but I’d never put much thought into it. In high school, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, but I never was able to see myself settling down. That aspect of my life changed when I got to college, I could see myself finding love…
Until Jordan.
I was head over heels in love until I wasn’t. He changed everything for me. I didn’t go on a single date for almost three years, not until Alex and I started dating. I thought that I was going to marry Jordan, and when we ended so terribly, I put the idea of marriage and kids far, far away.
That’s all changing, though. A few months ago at Cannon’s wedding, Alex asked me if I wanted to be next. I told him I was not ready, and to ask me again in a few months. If he were to ask me again now, formally or informally, I think that I would say yes. I have no doubts that he’s who I would want to spend my life with.
We’re living through our own sex scandal, and he’s handled it better than I’d ever imagined. He keeps me grounded, he’s my rock. So, as I watch this little boy and his mom cheering my Alex on, wearing his Bradford jersey, I can only hope that someday, a few years from now, that’s me standing there in the bleachers.
Chapter Thirty-One
Alex’s Point of View
When I get home, I find Elle and Quinn curled up on the couch watching what looks like a re-run of the bachelor. “Hey,” I yawn, tossing my game day bag near the front door to deal with tomorrow. I’m exhausted from today. It’s been nine months since I last played a game, and my body is definitely getting used to the demands again.
“Hey, Alex,” Elle sighs. I walk over to her wrapping my arms around her shoulders. I plant a kiss on the side of her cheek and let my head fall to the side of hers.
“Did you have fun?” I ask.
“So much fun. Congrats on the win, babe,” she smiles, turning her head a bit. She pulls me in closer, resting her head on my arms.
“Thank you, thank you,” I sigh.
“Yeah, that was awesome. Those seats were so dope,” Quinn chimes in.
I laugh. “Thanks. I’m glad you guys had fun. It’s good to see you, Quinn.”
“Likewise, Alexander,” she yawns. I laugh again and tell Elle I’m ready for bed. She tells me that she’ll be back in a minute, so I head back to our bedroom. I showered off after the game, so all I do is strip out of my clothes and into a pair of sleep shorts for the night. I turn the TV on, seeing if ESPN is replaying anything worth watching. At this time of night, I can answer that question before the TV even turns on, but that doesn’t stop me from checking.
Falling back into bed, I sigh as my body hits the padded mattress. The door creaks open and Elle comes in, softly shutting it behind her. “How are you feeling?” She asks, shutting the lamp off.
“Banged up,” I sigh, honestly. “How are you doing? Have you heard from Carrie, or anyone else?”
“No, it’s a Sunday night,” she frowns, moving to sit next to me on the edge of the bed. “Do you want some heat? Or some ice?”
“No, I think I will be okay.” I sigh, though it does sound really tempting.
“Are you sure? I have a heating pad in the nightstand,” she says, moving forward to open the drawer.
“Since it’s right there,” I shrug, giving in. I didn’t want to inconvenience her, but since it’s already out, I let her do it. She plugs it into the bedside lamp that has an outlet built in and asks me where to put it. “I don’t even know. You just put it wherever looks like it needs it the most.”
She sits on the edge of the bed, placing the heating pad on my chest. “You always take the worst blows to your chest,” she frowns. “Have you taken anything?”
“I don’t think it’s that bad,” I sigh. She eyes me. “But, you’re right. I probably should. Ibuprofen is in the bathroom.”
She nods and goes to grab it. She grabs her phone off of her nightstand, searching for something after handing me the bottle. “So I made friends with the cutest little boy at the game,” she starts, turning her phone to show me a picture of a kid hanging over the guard rail. While I can’t see his face, he still looks pretty young, probably two or three, and he’s wearing my jersey. It sends a pang of gratitude and pride through my chest.
“Aww, what’s his name?” I ask, swallowing down the ibuprofen. I chug some water, hoping that it helps with everything else.
“Cohen,” she answers, putting the phone on my nightstand. “I even exchanged numbers with his mom, Brooke, by the end of the game. She’s pretty cool, as it turns out,” she laughs softly. “I had to tell her my name was Ellie, though, on the off chance she put two and two together at the game. She seemed pretty into football. Didn’t wanna take any chances.” Her smile slowly fades into a look of sadness.
“Oh, Elle,” I sigh, grabbing her hand.
“I just had a long heart to heart with Quinn while you finished up press. It took longer than usual tonight, yeah?” She asks. “I feel like we talked for hours.”
I laugh, softly. “A little bit, yeah. Portwell had a welcome back party for me in the locker room after the press conference. It was cheesy, but, you know,” I shrug.
“Aw, Al, that’s awesome,” she sighs. “Did you have fun?” She asks.
I nod, but I can tell there’s more on her mind. Despite the pain in my body, I hoist myself up and sit on the bed so we’re facing each other. I move so my back is flush with the headboard and wedge the heating pad between the two. “Talk to me, Elle. What’s goin’ on?” I ask.
She scoots toward me so we’re sitting side by side, resting her head on my shoulder. “Do you wanna have kids someday?” She asks gingerly.
Oh.
I inhale. “I guess that isn’t something I’ve ever really thought about,” I answer sincerely. “I’ve never pictured myself as a father.”
“Ah,” She sighs, sounding defeated.
“Is there a reason you’re asking?” I ask, and suddenly warning bells start going off in my head.
“Oh, shit. Definitely not pregnant, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she shakes her head. “Wouldn’t that be perfect timing?” She forces a laugh. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, but she still didn’t answer my question. I know there’s more she’s not letting on.
“Elle, do you want kids?” I ask, entwining her hand with mine.
“I think I do,” she nods. “I didn’t realize it, not until today, I don’t think. I was sitting with this girl, watching her little boy. I couldn’t figure out why my heart ached at the sight of a little toddler wearing a jersey with your number on it, while he and his mom cheered you on.
“It hit me, flashes of this life… not now, and not even in the next year… but someday. A family. Kids. I want to be a mom, I want to take them to your games on Sundays, have family dinners, and fight over whose turn it is to give the baths for the night…. mundane shit like that. I’m not sure where this epiphany came from, but now that the images have been planted in my head, it’s something I’m yearning for.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I’ve never truly thought about the prospect of having kids before. Sure, I’d talked about it in previous relationships. But I always knew those relationships would never get to the point of actually starting a family. We were too young and never serious enough. With Elle, this is an entirely different story.
The realization that Elle not only wants kids, but she wants them with me… it’s enough to knock the wind out of me. I sit there speechless, no words have come to me yet.
I didn’t grow up in a family that was bursting with love and joy. There were several occasions throughout my teenage years when I remember thinking that I would never bring a child into the world that would have to be related to my father. No matter how hard I try to cut ties, he always finds a way back into my life. This last time I blocked his number is the longest he’s stayed gone.
Some day, if I do have children, my biggest fear is that he tries to be a part of their life. I don’t want to be like my dad. I don’t want them to only ever know one thing; the sport they were born to play. There is so much more to life than just that. If I let my guard down and let him back in when there are children in the equation, there are so many ways things could go wrong. I never want him to let him make anyone else feel the way he made me feel growing up. I certainly would not allow him to do that to my own children someday.
It’s a constant battle I fight with myself. No one prepares you on what to do when you know you need to cut contact with a parent, but part of you just wants to see the good in them despite everything else. I have no reason to think there is an ounce of good left in him, yet something in the back of my mind screams give him another chance. It’s the little boy in me, begging for attention and affection from him. I don’t need that validation anymore, but that part of my brain is impossible to turn off.
These are thoughts I’ve never really vocalized. It’s been a long time since I’ve even thought about how scared my dad has made me when it comes to having kids, but this is something I’m going to have to work through eventually.
She senses my apprehension and squeezes my hand. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. It’s just how I’m feeling. I have a lot of shit I need to work through. I think I’m going to start seeing a therapist, or something.”
“I’ll join you,” I nod, unsure where to go from there. “I’ve never thought about it, you know?”
She nods knowingly. “I know. I hadn’t much either, not until Cohen in his little Bradford jersey,” she smiles.
“In college, I fucked around. I never had the time to think about anything serious, let alone a family. I mean, Carmen and I would joke about kids, but with her I knew it was never anything serious. Elle, this is serious,” I sigh, referencing the longest and most serious relationship I’ve had since Elle has known me, which only lasted eight months. I don’t divulge my other insecurities surrounding it, though.
She nods her head. “I think you would make a great dad, for what it’s worth.”
“Really?” I ask, a soft smile overcoming me at her compliment.
“Really,” she nods.
“With our careers, though… Would we be able to balance that?” I ask, doubt seeping in.
The football season runs from August to February. That isn’t including OTA’s and summer training, her reporting for the combine, free agency, and the draft that happens between March and April. We both have so much going on, there’s no way in which we could devote the adequate time needed for a child.
“We could make it work. It’s not like people in our fields just don’t have kids, Al.”
I let out a big sigh. She’s right. People with careers way more demanding than us have kids and they make it work.
“Wow,” I exhale.
“Like I said. Your postgame took for fuckin’ ever. I’ve been spiraling,” she says with a self-deprecating laugh.
“Text me next time, I’ll be home in twenty minutes flat,” I joke. She cracks a smile. “In all seriousness, I think that this is something we need to talk more about. I think that I want kids. When I was like seven, I wanted ten kids. I wanted enough for my own softball team.” I smirk. She lets out a bellowing laugh. That much is true. It wasn’t until I was several years older that my dad squashed that light out of me.
“Of course you did,” she shakes her head.
“You know what people tend to do before they start having kids, though?” I ask.
“What’s that?” She asks, a smirk on her face.
“Well, they get married, Elle,” I nod.
“What are you waiting for?” She asks, wrapping her arms around my body and falling into my side.
“Touché, Ms. O’Connor,” I shake my head, laughing. “Touché.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Elle’s Point of View
It’s been a week since the pictures of Alex and I got out. In the last three days, we’ve learned next to nothing about the identity of the person who sold the pictures to the magazine outlet. It was done anonymously, the money wired through accounts that they can’t trace. Essentially, there’s no way for us to find out who did this to us.
I did the stupid interview GoSports asked me to and the reception was generally positive. It felt like the network’s way of wrapping up the situation in a bow and saying, “okay, now it’s resolved”, when it really isn’t. There’s still someone out there, potentially with more pictures, and god forbid anything worse than what’s already out there. We didn’t act conservatively on that beach. If they were around for more than what was photographed, there’s a good chance there are more damning photographs. I’ve got a sinking feeling in my gut telling me that’s just the case.
I’m back at work today, covering a divisional rivalry game in Green Bay. They’re playing Detroit. I had been scheduled to cover this weeks ago, but I still wish I was in Chicago today. It’s pretty cold up here, and I’m tired from a long week. There was no Thursday night game for me, so it was nice to have the night off. None of my teams were playing, so I didn’t have to do coverage. Someone is always playing on Sunday, though.
Kickoff in Green Bay is at noon, so I will be back in Chicago this evening. Alex is at an away game this afternoon, but won’t be back until the middle of the night since he’s playing at four-thirty Eastern time. Trying to figure out the time differences with time zones gets exhausting, so we just tell each other that we’ll ‘be home tonight’.
We’ve spent the last week having serious, and not-so-serious, talks about our future. Initially, I was taken by surprise at Alex’s reluctance at the idea of being a dad someday. It came from a place of unexplored feelings and thoughts; he’d never seen himself having kids. We’ve talked about it in-depth and have agreed that someday, the two of us would make pretty good parents.
There’s a lot that needs to happen between then and now, though. Ideally, we need to get through this season, but we’ll see where the road takes us. My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I smile when I see the notification.
Hi! It’s Brooke from the game. I was wondering if you’d wanna go out and watch the Comets game tonight? I was able to get a sitter for Cohen! I know it’s super short notice, so, no worries at all if it doesn’t work out! We’re newer to the city, so a new friend with a football-loving boyfriend sounds like a great double-date night, lol! Let me know!
