Page 44 of Catching Our Moment

Kelcie

“I gotcha, girl,” Shyla had said when I called her after Shaw left that night. I needed to talk to someone. I was beyond nervous about meeting the other wives and girlfriends. “They aren’t that bad. Just stick with me. Besides, it’s a freaking suite.”

And that felt like being forced to sit at the cool girl’s table. No pressure.

“Um, what do I even wear?” I asked her.

“Carolina gear, but cute,” she said.

“I have no idea what that means.”

“That means wear a Carolina sweatshirt or jersey but not one your grandfather would wear. What do you have with you?”

“A jersey Shaw gave me a few months ago,” I said.

“Is it a woman’s cut, or does it go over shoulder pads?” she asked.

“Um, I have no idea. It’s big enough to wear over my jacket,” I said.

There was a pause. “You know what…are you at Shaw’s?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be right over. I’m at Davy’s, and I keep most of my Carolina gear there. I have some things we can use to put an outfit together for you.”

“But I just wanted to know if I needed to do my hair and wear make-up.”

Another pause. “Oh, boy,” she sighed. “Yes, hon. You need to be “sport-glam”—cute, sporty, with a touch of glamorous that sets you apart. You are the girlfriend of one of the best-looking tight ends in the country. If you’re going to be on his arm, sitting in his seat, you need to look the part.

I’ll grab a few things and be over.” And then, as if to herself, she said, “Now, where did I put that Bedazzler…” before she hung up.

Bedazzler? What the hell had I gotten myself into?

* * *

True to her word, Shyla decked me out in a cute Carolina outfit, insisted I wear my hair down, curling it in effortless waves, and applied makeup in a way that I could only dream of reproducing.

She deconstructed the blue jersey Shaw had given me and reformed it to be more slim fitting, cutting a low neckline into it.

I wore it over a long-sleeved, slimming body suit.

She paired it with jet-black skinny jeans because she said my ass looked amazing in them, making sure Shaw’s jersey was cut off short enough to showcase it.

She kindly suppressed an amused smile when I put away my gym shoes and grabbed the heeled boots Aliya insisted I bring.

She had me go to his closet and find a Carolina jacket because the whole team had merch like that.

I pulled out one that was twice my size but had his number on the sleeve and his name across the back.

With a few more touches on the hair, it was fluffed and sprayed. I stared at myself in the mirror.

I looked good. Damn good. But would Shaw even recognize me under this? Hell, he rarely saw me with my hair down, let alone all wavy and cascading down my back. Was this who he wanted me to be? The glam girlfriend?

With lipstick and other necessities tucked in a cute purse she gave me to use, Shyla surveyed me, smiled, and said, “Perfect.”

“I feel like I’m being branded.”

Her smile grew as she grabbed both my hands and twirled me around, then with a playful wink said, “Darling, that’s because you are.”

Later, on the way over in her car, Shyla explained, “It’s a bit of a club, and there is a hierarchy that will become apparent as you watch.

Most of the women are nice and inviting, if not a little shallow.

But there is a huge difference between being a wife and being a girlfriend.

The wives have commitments and are more involved with the organization than the girlfriends. ”

“Why is that?”

“Because the girlfriend isn’t committed to sticking around.”

“What about you?”

Shyla sighed, and her shoulders dropped.

“Well, this is where Davy and I are at a crossroads,” she said.

“I’m on vacation right now, which is why I’m down here staying with him.

We try to alternate and find time to see each other when we can.

But in-season is very hard for both of us.

I’m an emergency room doctor at a metropolitan hospital in Chicago.

It’s not like I have a lot of free time to jet around to his games, nor is it easy for me to get the time off just to come down here. ”

She glanced over at me as we turned into the parking lot.

I nodded in understanding. “To be honest, we are at the point in our relationship where the distance is becoming a problem,” she continued.

She followed the attendants, motioning for us on where to go to park.

“He wants me to move down here. But honestly, I like living in Chicago. And besides, he doesn’t know how much longer he has in the league.

What if I uproot myself from Chicago and move down here to start over in a local ER, and then he gets traded or decides to retire?

” She shook her head. “Anyway, it’s an impasse. ”

It brought up the nagging reminder of my situation with Shaw and the way it lingered like an unanswered question. What would happen after this weekend?

Even when we were in heaven, snuggled in his suite, I missed my boy and was looking forward to going home to more familiar ground.

Charlotte was the road I could’ve traveled if things had worked out differently. But my reality was Aaron and the life I was rebuilding back home. However, part of that rebuilding had become Shaw living next door. He’d become an integral part of our lives—a cornerstone.

But the status quo wasn’t possible any longer. He was needed here. I was needed there.

When we pulled into a parking spot, she said, “Enough talk. Let’s go have a good time, drink some beers, and cheer on our boys!”

I walked into the WAGS suite and was suddenly surrounded by a wide range of beautiful women who were hugging and gossiping like old school friends. I tried hard not to cling to Shyla.

Although there was a wide range of beautiful women, they all had one thing in common.

Whether it was their eyes, their hair, their shape, their smile, their intelligence, or their confidence, something about each of these women called to a man whose job required a lot of grit, perseverance, and talent.

Shyla introduced me around to a few women, even though I had little hope of remembering everyone. Darius Stoker’s wife, Tasha, was the unofficial welcome committee. Darius was the quarterback of the team. He and Shaw had a good connection, both on and off the field.

“So, Darius hasn’t told me much about you, except that you are an old girlfriend from high school Shaw reconnected with while he was recovering,” she said.

I couldn’t glean her sincerity and glanced at Shyla.

“Let’s get a drink, and you can tell me the full story.

Come on, Shyla, I’m sure you have some dirt on this already. I love a second-chance romance.”

She walked over to the bar, which was stocked with a variety of drinks, including beer and vodka seltzers.

I grabbed a soda while the other women went for the vodka seltzers.

“Come on, have a drink,” Tasha said. “We can get you a ride back to Shaw’s, I’m sure.

” She quirked an eyebrow. “You are staying at Shaw’s, right? ”

“Yes, but I have to be up early for a flight tomorrow, so I’m going to take it slow. Maybe later in the game, I’ll have one.” Besides, I needed to keep my wits about me.

“No worries,” she said, ushering us to seats by the full wall of windows that looked down over the field.

The team had just come out to do warm-ups.

“Some of the women have gone down to wish their boys luck, so it will get more crowded in here in a bit,” she said, popping open the can.

“Darius doesn’t like the distraction.” She rolled her eyes.

“I’m surprised Shaw didn’t have you come down for a good luck kiss. ”

“He said something about it, but I told him I was afraid I’d get lost,” I joked. “Besides, I want his head in the game. It’s his first time back since getting hurt.”

“Yes, I heard you were his physical therapist. Is that how things happened with you two?”

“Oh, no,” I said, not wanting her to think I was unprofessional. “It didn’t happen like that at all. I?—”

Tasha giggled and took a deep draw of her drink. Shyla rolled her eyes. “She’s pushing your buttons. Stop it, Tash.”

“What?” Tasha’s eyes got wide with mock innocence. “One day, Riley is here. Shaw is injured, and she disappears in the wind. Then he comes back here with a physical therapist as a girlfriend. Rolling rocks gather no moss, I guess.”

Wow. That was about as bitchy as any woman had ever been toward me.

“Tash, what is wrong with you?” Shyla stood and pulled me with her. “Let’s get some food, Kelce.”

“I was a news reporter. Did you know that, Shy?” Tash said over her shoulder.

“When I met Darius, I was working for the local channel around Miami.” She turned in her seat to follow me as I walked away.

I stopped to listen to her. She took a healthy sip from her can.

“I had a chance to be an anchor, possibly in New York or DC.”

She took another sip of her drink. “But then I fell in love with Darius and came down here. I thought I’d get a job locally.

I mean, it's Charlotte, not LA or something.” She ran her hand through her beautiful, thick black hair.

“But here’s the thing. When you marry the player, you marry the organization.

The team comes first, especially in season.

There are charity events, and social events, and networking…

” She counted off on her fingers. “Pop out the babies, sit on charity boards, plan events, and smile on his arm. That’s what I’ve become. ”

Shyla and I side-eyed each other. Clearly, this wasn’t Tasha’s first drink.

Shyla sat down next to Tasha. “Tash, hon. This isn’t like you. Are you doing okay?”

The door to the suite opened, and the other women rolled in with smiles and good energy, which was just want the room needed. Tasha pasted on her best cheerleader face, and I tried to forget everything she and Shyla had shared with me.

Everyone was entitled to a bad day. Relationships were tough. There would be bumps Shaw and I would have to figure out. Except, from where I was sitting, those bumps seemed more like mountains.

I turned away from the chatter behind me, sat at one of the outside seats, and stared down at my man—my Shaw—the man I’d been in love with since the moment he stumbled onto my father’s football field.

The players ran off the field and back into the locker room to prepare for the game.

Tasha and Shyla had inadvertently stirred up those nagging questions that I’d been trying not to think about in the euphoric swirl of our new relationship.

How would we ever see each other? How could I balance my career and Aaron’s custody schedule with James?

I’d just gotten out of a marriage where I’d lost my direction and myself.

Was I ready to commit so much energy to Shaw’s career?

How would such a schedule affect Aaron? Would we have to move?

When was Shaw going to retire? If he was thinking of getting out next year, that would be one thing…

but he didn’t seem inclined to stop playing anytime soon.

“Hey…” Shyla came over with a fresh drink and sat by me. “What’s going on? You’re not letting what Tash said get to you, are you?”

I thanked her for the drink and took a sip, slapping on my game face. “No. Just taking it all in.”

“Good. Don’t let them chase you off,” she said.

A few more women sat down, introduced themselves, and drew me into the group, asking about my history with Shaw and then oohing and ahhing about our friends-to-lovers romance. They were welcoming and helped me forget my interaction with Tasha, at least for the rest of the game.

We cheered on the team as they were introduced onto the field.

The crowd grew louder when Shaw’s name was introduced—a wonderful welcome back that surprised me at the intensity.

I knew he was popular, but not living in Charlotte—and not having walked in the spotlight with him—I guess I’d never realized the level of it.

They had one of their better games since Shaw had left—winning 24-10, with Shaw having some amazing plays, including one touchdown near our suite.

He did his patented Shaw Shuffle—a basic two-step shuffle and butt shimmy—that didn’t seem to fit his hulking figure.

But then, that was what made it comical and endearing.

The crowd, already on their feet, roared with elation.

He pivoted, grinned, and winked. Then, with the football gripped in his hand, he pointed up to our suite.

The roar of the crowd increased as his gesture was caught on the Jumbotron along with the direction he was aiming.

“Oh my God!” Shyla said. “Look!”

Sure enough. There, up on a Jumbotron, in front of seventy-thousand people—and millions televised—was me, my mouth agape, gasping like a fish out of water as I stared at myself on a screen as big as a building.

Oh. My. God.

So, what did I do?

Did I wave and make a cute, coquettish grin at my superstar boyfriend in front of millions of at-home television viewers?

No, I screamed as if shot, with a level of drama Riley could’ve only dreamed of, and dropped to the floor on my hands and knees.

That was me. All class.

And that was my first strike as a professional football player’s girlfriend.

Never let it be said that I did anything half-assed.