Stone

“You sure are lookin’ slow,” Jeremy shouts, his grin wide. “Think maybe Dallas’s kickin’ themselves in the ass right about now?”

I flip my brother off. “Good thing you’re not in contract,” I counter, rubbing my stomach and glancing down at his. “You’re lookin’ a little flabby there.”

“The hell I am,” he argues, launching the football at me, not bothering to hold back.

I might give my brother shit, but he’s still got one hell of an arm.

“Probably shouldn’t’ve found a woman who can cook as well as Steph,” I tease, glancing over at my sister-in-law, who is sitting on the porch, my niece wrapped in a blanket and cradled in her arms.

“That was a prerequisite,” Jeremy notes, catching the pass I toss his way. “She had to be good in the kitchen.” Jeremy winks at his wife. “Ain’t that right, honey?”

“Be careful,” she says. “You’ll be eating SpaghettiOs for the rest of the week.”

That makes my brother laugh.

I never thought I’d see the day when my older brother settled down. Like me, he tended to err on the side of caution when it came to women during his time in the NFL. Steph was one of those women who wasn’t impressed by his money or his fame, but for some reason, she fell in love with the jackass anyway.

“So, what’s to the rumor that Dallas is gonna be courting you to extend your contract?” Jeremy shoots the ball back at me.

I turn around and send it spiraling his way. “No idea.”

“That’s horse shit and you know it.”

I shrug, catching the return pass. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“Really? You’re just ready to give it all up?”

Not really, no. However, I know I have to hold out in order to get what I want. The problem is, I don’t really know what I want right now. Money’s always a good motivator, but the truth is, I’ve got more than I know what to do with as it is. These days, I find myself wanting something more. Hell if I know what that even is, but I figure one day I’ll figure it out. I have until the end of the season to make a decision.

“Don’t know,” I tell him, cradling the ball after my brother’s return throw before heading toward my mother’s front porch.

“Tell him, baby,” Jeremy says to his wife. “Tell him he should stay in as long as he can.”

She smiles. “It’s nice to have him home,” she says sweetly. “But I’d be eternally grateful if you’d take him off my hands from time to time.”

“Bored, are ya?”

Jeremy gives me that what do you think? look.

“I’m sure you can find somethin’ to do,” I tell him as I open the front door and stick my head in. “Hey, Momma! Come on out here.”

“Just a minute!” she shouts back.

I glance over at my sister-in-law. “What’s she in there doin’?”

Steph grins. “I think she’s making brownies.”

My brother and I both shoot quick glances at one another. “No brownies.”

“Oh, they’re not that bad,” Steph says in a loud whisper.

Yeah, the woman clearly hasn’t experienced my mother’s cooking the way my brother and I have. Luckily, I don’t have another game until next Thursday, which’ll give my stomach some time to settle. Although we ordered the food so my mother wouldn’t have to cook on Thanksgiving, I know she tried to doctor it up a little, adding spices—at least I hope they were spices—when they weren’t necessary.

“That was a good game yesterday,” Jeremy says, perching on the front porch rail. “You almost looked good out there.”

Again, I flip him off. We won against the Chiefs 21–7. I’d say I looked really damn good.

“Y’all play the Giants again next week?” he asks.

I nod. The Giants are the only team we’ve lost to this season and we’re playing them again on Thursday, this time on their field. I know that’s going to mean we’ll be putting in some extra practice this week as we gear up for it.

“Don’t sweat it, man. Worst case, they’ll toss that rookie back on the field, and he’ll save the day.”

I laugh. Like that’s going to happen.

“Or, they can always call me up if they need some real talent out there,” Jeremy adds.

I pretend to consider this. “I’m confused…” I grin. “How many Super Bowls did you win? Was it…only two?”

He smirks.

“I’ll have to check when I get home,” I tell him. “But I’m pretty sure I’ve got three rings. Not just…two.”

He laughs.

“But, when I get my fourth one this year—third in a row, might I add—maybe I’ll let you borrow it. Then you can pretend you’re as good as me.”

I’m laughing when my brother launches off the railing and shoots toward me.

And I’m still laughing when I take off down the street.

Savannah

I glance furtively at my brothers and my sisters-in-law when my mother follows my dad out of the room.

“It’s not just me, right?” I ask them. “This is…weird?”

“It’s weird,” Aaron Jr. replies. “But not unusual.”

True. Unfortunately, it’s not unusual.

“Why?” I ask. “Why does this keep happening?”

No one answers me, but I know they’re all thinking the same thing I am.

To say the evening has been tense is a gross understatement.

For one, my mother is here and, two, she came by herself. That in itself is not something any of us expected. Her MO is typically to be hanging on some rich guy’s arm, pretending she’s perfectly happy, while the strain around her eyes says otherwise. And said rich guy is usually sending confused signals all around the room, probably trying to figure out how he even fits into the equation.

It’s not like any of us have a real relationship with her.

Needless to say, tonight has been a little different.

Ten minutes into dinner, after my nephew, Storm, created a mashed potato moat and filled it full of gravy until it overflowed onto the tablecloth, making my father coo and praise him, it was obvious that something was awry. I don’t think anyone missed my mother’s not-so-subtle hints that she’s looking for a reconciliation with my father.

Of course, she didn’t say two words to her own grandson, but that’s not unusual either.

And okay, so she has done this before.

In fact, I think the last time the Wranglers were in first place in the NFC East, she pulled this same stunt. It only heated up until they made it to the playoffs. However, when they didn’t win the Super Bowl that year, she went on her merry way, leaving my father heartbroken once again.

Why my father still allows this to happen is beyond me. They’ve been divorced since I was seven years old, yet he has never found anyone to replace Magdalena. And God only knows he’s had plenty of opportunities.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, darling,” my mother croons to my father as they return to the dining room. She glances around at all the faces staring back at her. “Your father and I are going to retire to the veranda for some wine.”

There was no request in that statement for us to join her.

Not that I wanted to.

In fact, I’ve been ready to bolt since the second she air-kissed me on both cheeks, then proceeded to eye my choice of dinner attire.

In my defense, I’m wearing the same thing I always wear. Jeans, boots, and a nice sweater. It’s not like I look like I just stepped out of a Walmart dressing room, but my clothing is certainly a long way from the Paris runways where my mother tends to shop.

Will gets to his feet and holds out a hand for his wife. “I think we’re gonna head home then. It’s past Storm’s bedtime.”

You wouldn’t know it by the way the kid is blazing a trail back and forth from the foyer to the kitchen, then back to the dining room.

Aaron Jr. follows suit, taking his wife’s hand and helping her to her feet. Traci’s hand comes to rest on her protruding belly as she shoots him a grateful smile. “I think we’ll do the same.”

I fight the urge to look to my left, knowing I don’t have a date there who’s going to give me the perfect out. Thankfully, with everyone else leaving and my mother wanting to…do whatever with my father, I’m saved from coming up with an excuse.

Doesn’t mean I don’t want to plant my happy ass right out there on the veranda between the two and keep my father from making the biggest mistake of his life. He’s a smart man. I know he’s aware of Magdalena’s game. She’s been playing it long enough.

I shoot to my feet. “Well, I don’t have any kids to put to bed, but I think I’ll take off.”

My father gives me a reassuring look.

After hugging my brothers and my sisters-in-law, I tousle Storm’s hair, then move in my father’s direction. “Thanks for dinner. It was amazing as always.”

He smiles. “I’m glad you were here.”

I hug him, then turn to my mother. I don’t offer her a hug for the sheer fact that I don’t want to wrinkle her.

“Good to see you,” I say, although my tone doesn’t reflect an ounce of sincerity.

Truth is, the woman makes me angry. I’ve tried for years to get over the fact that she abandoned us all, but it hasn’t worked. I’ve even attempted therapy at my father’s urging. No psychologist in this world can convince me that what she’s done is okay. And I don’t see the need to pay one to try anymore.

Nor do I see any reason for me to be nice to her. In my twenty-nine years on this earth, the woman has not tried to be a mother in any way, shape, or form. If it hadn’t been for my father, my brothers and I would’ve been shipped off to boarding school at an early age just so she didn’t have to deal with us. As it was, we were lucky enough to have a great staff of people who’ve managed to raise us while my father did his best to put in what time he did have.

However, I’m not about to dwell on that now.

“I’ll talk to you on Monday,” I tell my father.

He nods, then hugs me again before leading me to the door.

“Please be careful, Dad,” I tell him. It’s not a subtle warning, but I know he’s not expecting subtle from me either.

“I’m good, honey. I promise.”

With one more hug, I practically run out of the house, grateful that another holiday is now out of the way and I can get on with my normal, practical life.

It’s what I do best.