She shakes her head. “CFers aren’t supposed to hang out with each other because we can share bacteria. We cough a lot and covering our mouths doesn’t always work when another patient is around, so we try to keep our distance.”
“So, you really are alone?” She nods. “Wow, I’m sorry.”
“I’m used to it. The isolation that is. My parents, they try but their concern is my health and I hear, ‘did you take your meds’ way too many times a day. It would be nice if they just asked how my day was.”
“How’s your day, Frankie?” I ask.
She smiles. “So far, it’s been pretty good. Yours?”
“No complaints here.”
“What do you do for work, Peyton?”
“Nothing, yet. I recently graduated from Northwestern.”
“And you moved here?”
&nbs
p; “My fiancé lives here, his job is here, it made sense to be here. Chicago was nice, it’s a lot like Portland in ways.”
“We have Voodoo Donuts,” she points out.
“Yes, there’s definitely that.”
Frankie and I chat for another hour or so before I tell her I need to head home. It was nice to speak to someone about life, even if Frankie is in a different place in life. Knowing someone understands how unsettled I feel sometimes helps.
Back at the apartment, I say hi to the bellhop as he holds the door for me and listen to the couple on the elevator talk animatedly about how excited they are to visit the City of Roses. In our apartment, music blares from one of the spare rooms. I don’t bother knocking on the door, and just open it because I know the sight behind it is better than making Noah stop, and I’m right. My soon-to-be-husband is shirtless and lifting weights. He installed a set of mirrors when he made himself a home gym and from where I stand, I can see the concentration on his face. And a smile, which is meant just for me.
4
Noah
The smell of freshly baked cookies washes over me as soon as Peyton and I step inside my parents’ home. My stomach growls loudly as Betty Paige’s eyes light up as soon as she sees me and she comes thundering down the steps and into my arms. I don’t care how many times a month I see her, each time I can’t believe how much she’s grown. I don’t want to think about her dating, wearing makeup or even looking at colleges. She may have arrived when I was almost a teenager, but I wanted her.
“Can you please stop growing?”
“Daddy says the same thing each time I go shopping,” she laughs.
“That’s because you max out my credit card.” My dad comes into the room. We hug briefly before he pulls Peyton into his arms. I watch their exchange. It’s fatherly, with her hanging on for dear life. “We’re glad to have you both home,” he says after letting the love of my life go. Reaching for Peyton’s hand, I pull her close and kiss her forehead.
“Where’s Mom?” Peyton and I decided to come home to Beaumont so she and my mom can get a head start on flowers. No date, but we’ll have flowers.
“At the shop. She’s getting some samples ready for you guys to look at,” Paige says. “We can go over them now, that’s if you want my help.” She shrugs and looks at Peyton. I know she’s fishing for a spot in the wedding party and have no doubt Peyton will ask her.
“Of course, I’d love your opinion,” Peyton tells her. Try as she might, Betty Paige’s face lights up. Being a part of the wedding is her dream. She texts me with ideas all the time, asking if I think Peyton will like this or that.
“How was the flight?” My dad picks Peyton’s bag up and heads toward the stairwell. I follow, but Peyton stays with my sister.
“Perfect. It’s so nice to just relax.” I’m spoiled, but so are Peyton, Quinn, Elle, Betty Paige, and Eden. When it’s convenient, we can use the private jet. It’s a luxury that I wish I could use when the team flies. Not many people realize how big a nose tackle is or an offensive lineman. Big, beefy, most are tall and just overly large men. Try sitting next to one of them on a plane. It doesn’t bode well for any of us.
“And Peyton, how’s she doing with the move?” he asks, setting her bag down on the bed in what used to be my room. It’s no longer the “boy” room it once was, although my trophies are still here but now they’re nice and tidy on a shelf. This room has become a guest room and my mom likes to tease my dad that it will be a nursery in a few years once grandbabies start to arrive. Ever see a grown man quiver? Mention grandchildren and watch my dad and Harrison shake at the knees. It’s comical.
“She’s doing really well. She likes her new therapist and has a friend from her support group who has been through a similar situation.”
“I worry about her. We all do.”
“She’s good,” I tell him. “I take care of her.” And I do. I won’t let anything happen to her.