The women are all gathered together, forming a circle around my soon to be wife. Each day, I wake and pinch myself, to make sure I’m not dreaming. My life is my dream. Peyton and I are going to be married. I want to know the statistics of guys choosing a wedding date because that
is where we are right now. I’ve given her a date, one that I know she wants, but she won’t pull the proverbial trigger. I know she doesn’t have cold feet, she fears repercussions. I say screw it, and screw them. This is our lives and we should be the only thought when it comes to our wedding. However, the season is approaching fast and I’m going to be tied up, hopefully until the first weekend of February, and I want to be able to help her. I know our moms can handle it, but I want to be a part of making Peyton’s fairytale come true. Hell, I want to be Prince Charming and have my fairytale too. I don’t want to just show up. It’s another dream, leading the Portland Pioneers to the Super Bowl, but not one that’s out of reach. Our offseason acquisitions put us high on the depth charts and the rookie sensation we drafted is sure to give us the boost we’re going to need to get over the expansion hump.
Their laughter makes me smile. Even from here, I know they’re looking at the wedding book Peyton has meticulously put together. Everything from flowers, to dresses and color schemes. Each section of her binder is organized by season. I have yet to fully look through it, I get glimpses when she’s sitting beside me and assumes I’m not paying attention to her. The thing is, I’m always watching her, memorizing the way she flips the pages and what season her eyes light up at - Christmas. It’s what I want too.
“Do you ever feel like they’re talking about you?” Quinn nods toward the group. Not a single one of them is looking around to see if anyone is staring at them. They’re too busy oohing and aahing over the collection Peyton is showing them.
“They are talking about me,” I tell him. “That’s Peyton’s wedding bible.”
“Ah,” Quinn says, almost as if he understands. Someday, he will. But until then, I’m just happy he agreed to be my best man. Asking him while we were camping was perfect. Together, with our fishing poles, I poured my heart out to him, telling him how I used to be jealous of the relationship he has with my father. But the more I got to know him, the more it dawned on me that Quinn and I are more alike than we are different. He’s my best friend and there isn’t anyone else that I want standing up next to me as Peyton, albeit his sister, walks down the aisle toward me.
“Yep,” I sigh as I get up, checking to see if Quinn wants something to drink as I head to the cooler. He tells me he’s good, but that he’ll take one of the cookies sitting out on the tray. Luckily, for me, the cooler is near the love of my life and it gives me an opportunity to be in her presence for a few seconds. It’s funny to think I spent most of my life with her, growing up next to her, and yet I can’t get enough of her. During the season, the few days we’re apart are the hardest of my week. I don’t care how many times I’m sacked on Sundays—well I do care, but it’s different—missing her is an ache I can’t describe. Even though I know I’m going to see her, my heart still breaks each time we have to say goodbye.
I don’t want to think about what life will be like if she takes the job here. While she was in Chicago, she didn’t have classes every single day so while I was there, we spent time together. Here, things would be different. She’d travel with the team and we’d be passing each other, most likely in planes, thirty-thousand feet in the air. But if this is the job she wants, she needs to take it and not worry about us. I’ll figure that part out because there isn’t anything, I wouldn’t do for her.
Standing behind Peyton and the rest of the female contingent, I pick up bits and pieces of their conversation. It’s my mother who suggests we don’t have a winter wedding. My mom knows. She’s been around football for a long time. Peyton lets out a dejected sigh and an almost too quiet “I know” that really hits me square in the chest. It seems that I’ve been clear as mud when it comes to choosing a date and need to really drive the message home that if my girl wants to get married in the winter, I’ll make it happen. Even if I have to fake an injury.
“You look lost,” my dad says as he stands next to me. “Unless you’re admiring.”
I laugh because all you can see are the backsides of everyone. “Just listening.”
Dad reaches into the cooler and pulls out two beers, handing me one. “Let’s take a walk.”
“I need to deliver a cookie to Quinn.” However, Dad doesn’t care and puts his arm on my shoulder, directing me toward the darkened beach. “Is there something wrong?”
“Nope,” he says as we trudge through the sand. “Just want to talk to my son for a minute, away from everyone else.”
We walk until our feet start to sink into the wet sand from the receding tide. “What’s on your mind?”
He laughs. “Not mine, yours. I wasn’t kidding when I said you looked lost back there. What’s going on?”
I sigh heavily and take a quick drink from the bottle of beer. Not my favorite, but right now I don’t care. “Peyton wants a Christmas wedding but is fearful of the backlash. Not only from the league and players but future employers. I’ve tried telling her none of that matters, but she’s worried about my image and how she will be perceived.”
Dad is silent as we stand there listening to the ocean as it laps at the shore. For the most part, the beach is private, and the only people out here are the homeowners. Long put away are the pile of surf and wakeboards we had out earlier. Even though it stormed weeks ago, Quinn was still insistent that we hit the waves.
“So why not just propose the date to her?”
“I have.”
“Try harder,” he smirks. Such a wise, smart-ass, man.
Later that night, Peyton and I lie in bed, facing each other. It’s times like this when I wish we had rented a hotel room, but her parents would be hurt. Of course, I should be thankful they allow me to stay the night with her. I think they know if I weren’t allowed, she wouldn’t stay here.
“You looked like you were having a good time going through your book tonight.”
“I was,” she says. “It’s nice to be here with everyone instead of exchanging emails about ideas. Where did you go with your dad?”
“You noticed?”
“I always notice, Noah. As soon as you started walking away, I knew.”
I slide a bit closer to her. “Did you watch me walk away?” I ask, teasing her.
Thankfully, the moonlight is beaming through the window because without it, I wouldn’t be able to tell she’s blushing. I run my thumb over the pinkness of her cheek and smile. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Tell me what you want, Peyton. You know I’ll give it to you.” She doesn’t say anything, although I can see it in her eyes; she has so much to say. “Will you marry me?” I ask her.