The morning passed quickly.
We ate an early lunch with the team's general manager and some of the other members of their organization before finding our places in the suite where we would watch the game.
The suite had twenty or so stadium seats that were in the open air and looked out at the game. They were roomy and padded, and we were on our own level, blocked off in such a way where we didn't encounter anyone who wasn't also in a suite. It was definitely the high-roller's version of stadium life. Attached to the stadium seats, on the other side of a glass door, was a private living area with a huge kitchen and living room with couches. There were several TV's throughout the room, all of which were broadcasting the game.
The televisions were currently tuned to the pre-game show, which had a little clock counting down to kick-off time. There was only eight minutes until game time, so I knew my dad would be singing the anthem soon.
I hadn't asked anybody about Taylor's whereabouts, but I knew he had been given a pass to come to our suite. My dad had invited several other people as well (Mitch and Rhonda among a few other people he knew through music).
Nick was down on the field with my dad, but everyone else was in the suite with Karen and me. Everyone was hanging out and talking, eating and drinking, and waiting for the game to begin. I didn't obsess about wondering where Taylor was, but it was a thought that crossed my mind on a fairly regular basis. The closer it got to game time, the more I started to doubt that he was coming at all.
And then, there he was.
I was on the far side of the kitchen, looking out of the glass windows that overlooked the field when I spotted him.
I had been looking for my dad at the time.
I knew where Dad would be standing in preparation to go onto the field and sing. I had been down there with him a few times myself. I expected to see my dad and Nick along with a few other Patriots staff members as usual, but there was someone else there, too. Taylor was on the field with my father and his crew. I couldn't see them perfectly, but I knew it was him.
Instantly, I looked over my shoulder, searching the kitchen surfaces. I had noticed two pairs of binoculars sitting on the counter when we first went in. There were a few kids who had come with one of my dad's friends named Kevin, and they had taken the binoculars from the kitchen and moved them to the living room. I could see them from where I was standing—one lying on its side on the couch, and the other resting on the coffee table. They weren't using them, so rather than ask, I just walked over and picked up a pair.
Kevin and his wife were sitting in the stadium seats when I went outside, and they glanced at me when I joined them. There was a little standing room behind the seats, and I stood there so I could focus on the field.
"Are our kids behaving?" Kevin asked, turning to talk to me from over his shoulder.
"Oh, yeah," I said. "They're fine."
I put the binoculars to my eyes, focusing on the spot where I knew my dad was standing.
And, yep, there he was.
It was definitely Taylor. Taylor Patterson, in his full glory. He had on dark jeans with a plaid button-down shirt. His shirt was dark as well, and I thought the plaid on it was Patriots colors. It was understated fashionable team spirit. I simply loved his style—his vintage haircut and his baby face. He made me smile, just looking at him.
"You see your dad?" Kevin asked, looking back at me and obviously seeing me smile. I didn't glance at him or show any surprise about being spied on.
"Yes," I said.
Technically, I did see my dad. He was one of the people in the group. It was crazy, seeing him out there talking to Taylor. There were two other men standing there as well, laughing and talking. I thought one might be the owner of the team. Taylor just fit right in like he knew them all. It seemed like they were old friends, and I watched them, wondering how in the world he ended up down there and why my dad wouldn't have told me that's where he was going. I watched them for what must have been two minutes before I realized that I was officially stalking someone with binoculars.
I turned to make my way back inside.
"You going in?" Kevin's wife asked. "Your dad is about to sing."
"I'm coming right back," I said.
I held onto the binoculars as I went into the suite. "I'm gonna sit outside," I said to Karen. She was standing in the kitchen near the place where I had left my drink, and I spoke to her when I went to pick it up.
"Is it cold out there?" she asked.
I shook my head. "No, it's nice."
"They're about to bring some wings up here," she said.
I smiled and touched my stomach. "I'm still full from lunch. And Dad's about to sing."
I went outside to claim a seat. There was an aisle down the middle with three rows of four chairs on my left and three rows of four chairs on my right. Kevin and his wife were sitting in the second row on the right side, so I went to the first row on the left. The seats were padded and they reclined a little bit when you leaned back. I looked out at the crowd, feeling the energy and knowing everyone was gearing up for game time.
Dad's version of the anthem was a little different than, say Mariah Carey's or Christina Aguilera's. He was a rocker, through and through, and he sang the whole thing pretty mellow until he got to the end where he belted that one note. Everyone loved my dad and the whole place cheered and whistled afterward, which brought tears to my eyes every time. I heard crowds cheer for my father on a fairly regular basis, and it never, ever got old. I was really proud of him, and I didn't take for granted the pleasure of seeing and experiencing amazing things while riding on my father's coat tails.
It was roughly twenty minutes later when Dad came into the room, accompanied by Nick and Taylor. I had just come inside from the seats and was about to go use the restroom when they came in through the interior door. Rhonda and then everyone else standing around congratulated my dad on doing a great job, and he thanked them. I could hear all the conversation happening, but my eyes were locked on Taylor's. I smiled at him, doing my very best to seem unaffected.
The suites didn't have private restrooms, so I had been on my way to the door they had used to come in. It led to a hallway that would take me to the restroom that was shared with a few other suites. I was headed over there, anyway, so I walked into the living room, crossing paths with the guys when they came in.
Nick instantly walked toward the kitchen to get food, but my dad and Taylor hung back, closer to the door. "Hey sweetie," Dad said, hugging me as I approached them.
"Hey," I said. "You did so good."
"Thank you," he said. He gave me a curious expression. "Where are you going?"
"The restroom," I said.
He nodded, but before he walked away, he turned and gestured to Taylor. I used this gesture as permission to make eye contact with Taylor, and when I did, I realized that he was already looking at me. His green eyes melted my heart the instant I connected with them. I had a flash of our moment in the stairwell, and I got chills. I tried to hide my reaction. I had to glance away.
"I was just telling Taylor that story of you being a stow-away with me on tour that time," Dad said.
I smiled and nodded, finding the courage to meet Taylor's eyes again. "I got in big trouble for that one," I said.
"That's something we all think about doing when we're a kid, getting into someone's luggage, but none of us actually do it. I can't believe you actually got into a bag."
I shook my head. "I can't believe it either. Thank goodness it was something going on the bus and not under it."
"Yeah, she could have ended up in the luggage compartment." Dad paused and shook his head as if clearing that thought out of his head.
"I'll be right back," I said.
Dad started to make his way into the suite, leaving Taylor and me at the door.
I glanced at Taylor again. "Are you hanging out, or do you need to get back?" I asked as casually as possible. "I… I didn't know if I should say 'hi' and 'bye', or if you'll still be here when I get back."
Taylor glanced into the living room before looking at me again. "I'm staying for a little while," he said. "But I'll go with you to find the restroom, if you don't mind."
I shook my head, and we made our way to the door together.
He reached out and opened it for me.
Several other suites shared this hallway. Looks-wise, it wasn't like the rest of the stadium—it was just a large, private hallway, carpeted with nice light fixtures. If you went to the right, you'd find the door that led out to the stadium. That door was carefully guarded by two doormen. To get to the restrooms, we took a left, heading away from that door.
"Have you ever been in a suite like this?" I asked, feeling nervous and wanting to fill the silence as soon as we stepped into the hallway.
"Not here in this stadium," he said. "But a few times back in L.A., for different sporting events. It never gets old, though. I appreciate you guys inviting me."
I shot him a smile, feeling too shy to tell him he was welcome for something I had little to do with.
"I didn't know you were going out on the field with my dad," I said.
Taylor let out a laugh. "I didn't either," he said. "I got a call this morning from my book publicist saying that there was someone I needed to meet while I was at the game—some audiobook publisher. She hooked all that up where I could meet up with that guy, and while I was over there, I saw your dad. I was just finishing up what I was doing, so your dad asked if I wanted to tag along with him."
The restrooms weren't far down the hall, we could see the sign, so we walked slowly—barely moving.
"That's one thing I didn't think I'd be doing when I planned this trip," he added. "Standing out on the field at a Patriots game with Alec Stone while he sang the anthem. I think that's officially as American as you can get."
That made me laugh, and Taylor looked at me—regarding me sweetly. "I wanted to see you guys off this morning," he said. "We had some issues in the kitchen, and I couldn’t get away. I tried. I'm sorry."
"Oh, no, that's okay," I said, pretending it was the first I thought of it.
We had stopped in the hallway, finding a spot close to the wall. There was no one else around. You could hear some noise coming from the door of the suite that was closest to us, but we were alone. He glanced around wearing a little smile.
"I had a shirt on last night," he said. "The white one with purple and green, you remember?"
"Yeah, what about it," I said, faking nonchalance.
He reached up and touched his own shoulder—right hand to right shoulder—just a simple touch. He made a confused, almost concerned expression. "It's got these… I noticed last night, after I took it off and was about to put it in the dirty clothes that it had these…" He shook his head like he was genuinely confused. "It's got these marks... these wrinkles right there that… I don't know. I don't know where they could have come from. They look like somebody was squeezing onto my shirt right there… almost handprints. But they're probably just random shoulder wrinkles, don't you think? Do you ever get those?"
I remembered last night—the way I held onto his shirt for dear life as he kissed me gently over and over. I was not at all surprised to learn that I had left wrinkles on his shirt. The thought of him seeing that after he took his shirt off, and the fact that he was currently bringing it up, had me feeling weak in the knees. I had to remind myself to breathe. I shook my head coolly as we crept along, moving slowly toward the restroom.
"No, I've never heard of those," I said, looking a little confused and trying to play it off.
"Okay," he said, nodding at me. "I was just making sure."
I tried my best to think of what I could say. I couldn’t believe he brought up the kiss. He had done it so quickly and cleverly that I didn't feel capable of responding. I wanted to think of the perfect thing to say, but I was so swept up by the moment—his face—that I just stood there, saying nothing.
"Your dad did such a great job," he said. "And it was really nice of him to let me join him down there."
I smiled. "He's pretty okay. How'd your other thing go?" I asked, meandering toward the restrooms again. "Whatever you were doing downstairs before you saw my dad—the audiobook or whatever."
"Oh, great. It went really great. It was the company owner, so he wasn't trying to talk business or anything. My publicist just wanted us to meet. The contract has already been worked out. I was just supposed to introduce myself. He was a nice guy."
"Josh really likes you," I said after a few seconds. "Josh from the hotel—the doorman. And he said everyone else feels the same way over there. We mentioned you this morning, and he said they all like you a lot." I came extremely close to adding something about all of the female staff having crushes on him, but I changed my mind at the last second.
"Josh told you that?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Well, that was a really nice thing for him to say," Taylor said. "For the most part, it's a really good crew."
We stopped in the hallway again once we got close to the opening on the right that led to the bathrooms. Taylor tilted his head, regarding me with a thoughtful look.
"I was thinking about last night," he said. "Not just the stairwell, which…" he trailed off, glancing around and making sure we didn't have company. "Which was really, really, so nice, Blue. It really was. I was, uh, thinking about something you said, lots of things you said, but one thing in particular. It was something you said last night—about not feeling like you had real direction compared to your sisters."
I nodded, remembering our conversation.
"I felt like I should tell you… you know, while we have this time together in Boston, where our paths were crossing and everything. I was thinking about it, and you very much have an identity, Blue. I don't know your sisters, but I can't imagine them being more of an individual than you are. I can't imagine someone with more to offer. I hope you really know how much you have going for you."
"So, you think I'm okay, even if I'm in my mid-twenties and still tagging along with my dad to football games?"
"You're so very okay for that," he said. "You're smart for that." He put his palms up, gesturing around himself. "How many people get to experience this?"
"Not many," I said. "Do you always walk around making people feel good like this?"
He smiled at me when he realized the answer to his question. "Yes," he said, honestly. "But I only tell the truth, and it was something I wanted to make sure you knew. You're Blue Stone. You make your own way, have your own things going, and you still make time to hang out with your dad. You're the coolest one in your family, if you ask me."
I smiled. "I bet you're the coolest one in your family, too."
He acted like he was thinking about it before nodding confidently. "Yes, I am," he said, pretending to be totally serious and making me laugh.