Page 27
Second Guessing – Florida Georgia Line
Declan
“O h, Sharon,” I call out as I enter her office.
She’s hard at work, typing away at her computer, funky purple glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Her thick curly hair is tied into a bun on the top of her head, small strands of peppered hair sticking out.
“Come in,” she says, not lifting her gaze.
“Already am.” I wave the cappuccino I brought her in front of the computer screen.
She’s been my therapist long enough for us to build a rapport where she begrudgingly takes the coffee I bring her, but sighs in content when she takes the first sip.
“I’m very sorry I had to cancel our last session,” she says, collecting her coffee and pad of paper to sit on the large leather armchair.
I flop onto her couch, wiggling my ass to soften the cushions. I raise my hands over my head and kick my feet back. “We have a lot to talk about,” I start, staring up at the ceiling. It’s easiest to start this way—word vomiting to the wall, then looking at Sharon after. “Two months ago, I mentioned the woman I work with…”
“Yes. Addie?”
“Right. Well, a lot has happened in the last two months,” I pause, and her head tilts up. The only indication that she’s both curious and concerned. “Last week I had the stomach flu, and she brought me soup and saw something she shouldn’t…” I let it settle in the air for dramatic effect, but Sharon gives me a bored look. “I may have bought furniture and turned one of the empty rooms into a bedroom for Nora.”
“Who is Nora?”
“Oh, right!” Didn’t know about Nora last time we chatted. “Addie’s daughter. She’s five, and a spitfire. Smart, curious, and full of energy.”
“Okay…” she draws out the word, “Why don’t you go over what has happened since our last chat?”
Sharon listens intently, scribbling down something here and there while I replay the last two months. My first date with the girls. Family dinner at Nathalie’s, and how perfectly they’ve slipped into our friend group. I share about our date in the hotel, and how I’ve been able to open up to her about my past. I offer minimal details about Addie’s own family and how Nora surprised me at a home game. Sharon chuckles softly when I tell her Addie yelled at me while I was puking.
But most of all, I express how complete I’ve felt since I met Addie, like my whole life there’s been a missing piece, and I’ve finally found it. How, for the first time, I can imagine the future, and it’s full of moments with Nora and Addie.
The future used to terrify me, and I’ve always struggled to compartmentalize the unknown that comes with tomorrow, but now, I’m hopeful for what has yet to pass.
“She doesn’t want me to regret the choice,” I admit, and the words sit sour on my tongue, “but choosing them is never a choice I could regret. I want the responsibility to take care of Nora and Addie because it feels like what I’m meant to do. I’ve always questioned where I belonged, but I think it’s because I hadn’t met them yet.”
“These are big steps,” Sharon says neutrally.
“I’ve never done anything half-assed,” I joke. She chuckles, and I add, “If I had to choose between them or football right now, I wouldn’t hesitate. I would never step onto a field again, and I would be content with my choice.”
For the majority of my life, football has been my lifeline. It kept me after school instead of going back to the group home, where life was out of sorts. My athletic scholarship to Notre Dame was a ticket out of a small town, and a future after I phased out of foster care. It’s turned into a job where my bills are paid, and I’ll never need to worry about money again if I’m financially responsible.
But I would give it up for them, if I had to.
Isn’t that the same sacrifice Addie made for Nora? Took her dream off the shelf so Nora had room for her own? If retiring from football meant Nora and Addie had room for their dreams, I would make the choice over again with zero regret.
Thanks to patient-client privacy, I can tell Sharon the one thing I’ve held tightly to my chest. Only my financial advisor knows, and it’s because he had to work up the paperwork.
“There’s a college fund in Nora’s name. I had it set up last week after Addie told me I had to be sure in my choice. No stipulations to the money, other than she pursues additional education regardless if it’s a four-year university or trade school.”
“It seems like your mind is made,” Sharon says, and the smile she offers is full of pride.
“It is. But how do I convince Addie I’m not going to change my mind?”
“You continue to show up through your actions, but words also make an impact. Tell her what you’ve told me…and if you love her,” she gives me a pointed look, “then you tell her that, too.”
“I’m so glad you all could make it,” I say, sliding into the last empty spot of the large corner booth of Donna’s Diner. The sparkly blue leather creaks as I sit, the last one to arrive for this impromptu planning meeting.
“We were promised food,” Deon says, waving the menu, “I’m starving.”
“Order whatever you want, as long as you’re ready to plan.”
“Plan?”
They each say the word, but every person has a different tone. Maren is thrilled. Jack, and Sawyer are curious, but wary. Nathalie is excited, and Deon is disinterested. Henry is downright gleeful.
“Is this part of the game plan? Another step?” he asks, “I love when we all come to Donna’s Diner to plan our love confession.” He sighs in content. “I love you, Sawyer,” he adds, “We sat in this exact booth when we planned how I would convince you to give me a shot.”
“And when I needed advice about ways to get Maren to spend time in the same room as me,” Jack adds, then kisses the top of her head.
“We all planned my grand gesture here,” Deon adds, then smiles softly at me, “It’s about damn time it’s your turn.”
“I’m not planning to tell Addie I love her,” I start, but I’m brutally cut off.
“Aha! So you do love her!” Nathalie leans over the table, her finger in my face.
“Yet,” I continue. Nathalie slowly creeps back to her seat.
Deon whispers, “Jumped the gun a bit on that one.”
“I was excited,” she hisses back, “You know what happens if he admits it before Thanksgiving.”
Deon looks directly at me, then says, “Please refrain from telling Addie you love her until Black Friday.”
“Why?” Maren’s eyes narrow. “What did you two bet, and can I get in on it?”
“No!” They both scream, and Maren jolts.
“Why not?”
“Yeah…” Jack’s smile is shit-eating, “Why can’t Maren and I join in on the bet? Deon?” he prods.
Deon blanches, and Nathalie smiles triumphantly. “If you tell Addie before Thanksgiving, Deon agreed to roleplay as Legolas, complete with the ears and blonde wig.”
The words sit heavily between us, and no one has a response. There are some things you don’t need to know about a person, and I already know too much thanks to staying with them for a few weeks last year.
“I regret befriending you all,” Deon mutters, but quickly shuts up when Nathalie kisses his cheek.
“Would have never met me, then,” she says cheerily, then changes the conversation. Thank God. “So, what are you planning then?”
“A trip.” They all give me a blank stare, so I razzle-dazzle them. “The most magnificent, magical trip to ever exist.”
I explain what little details I’ve put together, and pull out the piece of paper I’ve used to scribble every movie or princess reference Nora has ever made. It’s a long list.
“When do you want to go?” Maren asks, her notebook open and pen flying across the pages.
Of all of my friends, she’s been the hardest to understand—she’s wary and closed-off at times, and not the best with expressing her emotions. But I’ve got her figured out now.
Above all, she loves her friends. It’s just a quiet, subtle love she shows through her actions. And she loves to plan and execute. It makes her feel needed. Sawyer and Nathalie are different, preferring physical touch and quality time. The same could be said for their partners, to a lesser degree. They all match perfectly.
“The bye week in October.” Maren’s eyes bulge. “What? Is that not possible?”
“Oh, it’s possible,” she grimaces, “It’s just very soon, and all of the decent prices are long gone.”
“No budget,” I say.
Deon gasps. “Yes, budget! You can’t go without a budget, you’ll go bankrupt.” He turns to Maren. “Ignore him. I will advise you on the finances. I don’t want him living in my guest room because he blew his money on tiaras and overpriced turkey legs.”
“You’re killing the magical vibe,” Sawyer says, sipping on her chai latte.
“It’s not going to financially ruin me to take them to an amusement park.” A small smile tugs on my face. “Besides, I’m more financially set than all of you.”
Deon recoils in horror. “Take that back.”
Jack shrugs. “I donate a lot of money to charity, so probably.”
“I let Sawyer handle the money,” Henry says, biting into a slice of bacon. “She’s great with numbers.”
Sawyer blushes at the compliment.
“I’ve pocketed every penny of my contract and live only on sponsorships,” I tell them.
“Every penny?” Deon asks, green eyes wide with surprise. I nod. “Oh, you’re fine. I do love a good deal, though, so keep me in the loop, Maren.” We give him an odd look. “I’ve been watching Extreme Couponers.”
Ah, makes sense.
“Is there anything you need us to do?” Nathalie asks, gesturing to Sawyer.
“Yes! I tried to call this salon in the park—”
“The boutique?!” Sawyer screams, “I always wanted to do that as a kid!”
“I think so? Anyway, they told me they were booked out. I could use an assist in convincing them to make room for Nora.”
Sawyer and Nathalie exchange a mischievous glance, then nod.
“I think that’s everything. I just want them to have fun.”
Jack smiles warmly. “They’re going to love this.”
We finish our food, and I pay the tab. The girls chatter about the plans and quickly leave for a planning meeting at Maren’s house. I rise from the table, but Jack stops me.
“I know what you’re doing—giving Maren the job to plan this and decorate your house—thank you.” His eyes shine with unshed tears. “She’s been having a tough time lately, and it’s giving her purpose.”
“Is everything okay?”
They’ve never mentioned any issues, and they’re always in a good mood when we’re together.
“This is not something we’ve shared with anyone, but Maren and I have been trying for a baby for a while now,” Henry whoops in joy, but Jack shakes his head, “She’s not pregnant.”
The words are quiet and laced with melancholy.
“Sorry,” Henry mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.
“PCOS makes it incredibly hard for Maren to conceive naturally, and we’ve tried everything under the sun outside of IVF to help boost her fertility. None of it has worked.” Jack wrings his hands together, the pain for his wife evident on his face. “She’s not ready for IVF yet, so we are exploring a different path.” He stares into the depths of my soul. “I wanted to talk to you about it first.”
“Talk to me about what?”
I scan the rest of the table, and everyone else is equally as surprised by his confession.
“Over the summer, Maren and I would like to take the required courses to become licensed foster parents.”
The air whooshes from my lungs.
“Oh.”
I don’t know who voices the single syllable, but my head begins to spin. Someone’s speaking, and a hand rests on my shoulder, but I’m having a hard time keeping up.
They want to become foster parents.
It’s possible I have nothing to do with the decision, but the soft look Jack offers tells me I placed the kernel of possibility in their minds.
“Nice,” is all I can choke out.
I manage a watery smile, and Jack beams. “Yeah?”
The excitement and anticipation are all over his face. He’s thrilled for this, and I know without a doubt they would make wonderful foster parents. Their home is warm, and one I would have dreamed of being placed into as a kid.
“You’d be wonderful foster parents,” Deon says quietly.
I nod in agreement.
“If our paperwork gets approved after the classes, we’d love to talk to you about what we can do to make our home a safe space,” he says, “If you’re comfortable with that.”
“I’d love that,” I whisper.
The table grows quiet, and we collectively rise and head to the door. Deon and Jack chit-chat about grilling and smoking meat, but Henry stays back and grips my shoulder. He’s always seen more than the rest thanks to playing in college together. “You really love them, don’t you?”
“More than I thought was possible.”