Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
When he texted and told me Peyton wanted my number, I danced a little gig at my desk. My behavior is completely irrational, and I promised him I’d be on my best behavior. My poor mountain of a man probably thinks I’m going to embarrass him. I’m not. If anything, I’m the consummate professional.
Except where her dad is concerned.
Her mom is sooooo lucky.
Still, I would never say anything to Peyton. I’m sure she’s heard it all and doesn’t need to hear it from me. Besides, I’d rather be her friend and feel accepted into the fold of Pioneer WAGs. Their acceptance is more important than any dumb fantasy I have about a drummer, who is old enough to be my dad. Shit, I don’t even have daddy issues and here I am thinking about someone’s dad.
I meet Peyton and Autumn at McCormick’s on the water. Inside, I give my name to the hostess and tell her I’m meeting friends. It feels good to call them that, instead of colleagues or acquaintances. She tells me to follow her. I do, but each step is nerve-racking, even though I know it shouldn’t be. I need to remember they’re football wives, and I guess technically, I’m a football girlfriend.
Right?
I hate labels.
No, actually, I don’t. Labels are great because they tell you where you stand with someone. Asking for the label or checking to see if you’re on the same page as someone else is awkward. How do I say to Alex, “Am I your girlfriend or hook up buddy?” It would be nice to know, but then again, is it really that important?
Sort of.
Peyton sees me first and waves. I thank the hostess and make my way over to the table. Thankfully, it’s not a booth because who would I sit next to? Get a grip.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” Peyton says when I sit down.
“Hi, thank you for the lunch invite. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it yesterday,” I tell them.
“It’s perfect, actually,” Autumn says as we shake hands.
“Every day is perfect for you,” Peyton says to her. “You’re on vacation.”
“It’s not a vacation.”
“I think I’m missing something,” I say to them.
“I’m still on maternity leave,” Autumn says. I don’t mean to, but I look at her midsection and think there’s no way she had a baby recently, and then I think she’s one of those lucky moms who can afford to take a year off and stay home. Autumn picks up her phone and shows me a picture. “We’ve kept his birth a secret. No one other than family and a few friends know he’s here.”
“Congratulations. He’s adorable. What’s his name?”
“Julius Jr.,” she says. “But we’re calling him JJ” she flips to another photo. “These are our other two, Reggie and Roxy.”
“Your family is beautiful. I promise not to say anything. Not that I know anyone to say anything to.”
“All right, enough about your gorgeous family,” Peyton says to Autumn. “I’m starved and we have appointments to keep.”
I pick up the menu and start looking for something. “Thank you again for inviting me.”
“That’s Peyton,” Autumn says. “She takes all us newbies under her wing. Seriously, if you need anything, ask her or me. We’ll help you adjust. Some of the other wives . . . well they’re not as nice and accommodating. Alex and Julius are good friends, and we’ll end up hanging out a lot once the season’s over. Noah and Peyton leave us and head to California.” Autumn rolls her eyes and Peyton scoffs.
“Assuming Alex and I are still a thing.” I sigh heavily.
Autumn looks from me to Peyton, and then says, “Alex isn’t like the others. He wears his heart on his sleeve and loves wholly. If he brought you to the game, it’s because he thinks you’ll be in his life for a long time.”
“Autumn!” Peyton’s eyes widen. “Stop scaring her.” She puts her hand over mine. “Autumn and I didn’t want you to have to traverse the fundraiser prep by yourself. There will be media at the event, and we feared Alex wouldn’t have prepared you.”
“Thank you. He promised to pamper me.”
“He did good,” Peyton says. “Okay, let’s order. I’m starving.”
The waitress hears Peyton and comes right over, and we place our orders. Once she’s gone, Autumn folds her hands and puts them on the table.
“Peyton told me what you do for work. I have to say, that has to be the coolest job. You literally get paid to read.”
“Cool? I don’t know about that. You’re on TV.”
Autumn waves my comment away. “It’s not as glamorous as it looks. The hours aren’t amazing. I’m either up at three in the morning or going to bed at three in the morning.”
“How will that work with a newborn?” I ask.
“I won’t go back to work until the season’s over, and then Julius will be home. We do have a nanny, but don’t want to burden her with a newborn.”