“Thank you. Please give the kids a kiss for me.”
“Will do.”
We hang up, and I shoot a message to my publicist, letting her know what’s happened so she’s not completely blindsided. Then I click on the images, save them, and send them to my phone. I can’t even imagine the speculation that’s probably all over social media, but I can’t stop it now. Let them talk… I’ll be busy living.
“I want to sit next to Sawyer,” Presley announces, plopping in the theater seat to the left of Sawyer. “Me too!” Abby agrees, taking the seat to her right. Both girls snuggle up to her, and she smiles wide, loving the attention.
I glare at the three of them, which only makes them giggle. “Guess you’re on your own tonight,” Sawyer says with a shrug.
“They only want to sit by you because you hog the popcorn and candy,” I point out, making her huff.
“I do not.” She pouts.
“You do too,” Lucas says, grabbing a bowl of popcorn. “C’mon, Dad, let’s sit over here.” He walks back one row, so we’re seated behind the girls.
“Now we can do this,” he whispers conspiratorially when the movie starts, and I press the button to dim the lights.
He picks up a piece of popcorn and flicks it at Presley, hitting her in the back of the head.
She turns around and glares, and he stifles his laugh.
“Do that again, and I’ll pour the popcorn on you!” she hisses.
He rolls his eyes, and the second she turns around, he throws a piece at Abby. I should probably stop him, but it’s kind of funny to watch. It would be better if we were in a real theater, and they didn’t know who was doing it, but the gesture is still hilarious.
“Hey!” Abby swivels around, her nose scrunching up. “That’s not nice.”
Lucas’s face remains stoic. “It wasn’t me.”
She turns around, and he does it again, this time hitting Sawyer. When she doesn’t react, he does it again, clearly wanting her attention. No response. Just as he’s about to throw the third piece, all three girls twirl around, and the entire bucket of popcorn comes flying at us. Lucas shrieks in shock, and the girls crack up laughing.
“That’s what you get!” Sawyer yells through her laughter.
“Ha!” Lucas says. “Joke’s on you ’cause now you have no popcorn.” He pops a piece into his mouth, making a show of chomping on it as Sawyer hops over her seat. Before he can grasp what’s happening, she snatches the tub out of his hands as the girls cheer her on.
“Hey!” he shouts, jumping up and chasing after her. She runs around the theater, cracking up while he sprints after her.
Then she stops suddenly and turns around, a devilish glint in her eyes. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Give me my popcorn!” Lucas demands, taking a step toward her.
“If you step another foot toward me, I’ll eat it all.” She lifts a handful of popcorn to her mouth and chomps down on it.
“You’ll choke on it all.” Lucas scoffs.
“Fine, then I’ll throw it at you.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Then nobody will have any popcorn.”
She shrugs, a tiny smirk playing on her lips.
“Fine.” He turns on his heel, making it look like he’s giving up, and just when Sawyer thinks she’s won, he doubles back and snags the container from her, whooping triumphantly.
“Hey!” she shrieks, going after him as he hightails it away. Abby and Presley join in the chase, giggling. The three of them take him down. The popcorn goes flying as they tickle the hell out of him. As I watch him flop all over the floor like a fish out of water and listen to the girls belly laughing, I think about our life. Are my kids happy? Yes. Do they have a good life? Of course. But the truth is, I’ve been so busy working, providing that life for them, focused on being their sole provider, that I forgot to actually live with them. And that has to change.
The image of the contract sitting on my desk at home pops into my head, and I force myself to swallow down the lump of emotion in my throat. I’ve spent the past three months with my kids like I do every year after the football season ends. I play from June to January—February if we make the playoffs—so from March to June, I spend my time with my family, going on vacations and relaxing. But for some reason, for the first time in fifteen years, the idea of going back to work has me feeling anxious. And that’s definitely something I need to think about.
“Dad!” Lucas shouts. “Help me!”
I cut across the room and lift Sawyer into my arms. “Quit picking on my boy,” I joke, smacking her ass as I carry her over to her seat.