When I told him he didn’t need a scholarship and that I could pay for his schooling, he protested.
I want to do this on my own. I want to earn this. Let me.
No way could I protest that. More like I’d been proud. I felt like Fable and I actually did something right—and that something was raise Owen.
He’s much more independent; he has his own car, which I gave him as a graduation gift, and he’s still working at The District. Doesn’t have a steady girlfriend, though, and I told him that was a good thing. He doesn’t need a girl tying him down yet. He needs to focus on himself. Stay young. Be free.
Something I really didn’t do during my high school or college years. I had too much to hide, too much to be ashamed of. It shaded my entire high school experience. I was popular despite how withdrawn I was, but people only cared that I was some sort of football star. And the only thing I could really focus on and enjoy was football. It helped me forget.
Sometimes, it still does.
With Owen’s newfound independence comes Fable’s ability to loosen the motherly strings she has tied around him. She’s moved into the house near Santa Clara during football season and comes to my games. Finally we’re together again, so we can have some much needed alone time. She’s even started traveling with the team a few times, to out-of-town games.
And always, always the media is trailing after us, wanting more photos, more interviews, more, more, more. She’s been on the cover of magazines, mostly the gossipy ones but occasionally others, including a fashion magazine. She was interviewed for a two-page spread in People and on TV. Barbara Walters actually chose the two of us as part of her ten most fascinating people last year.
Freaking unbelievable.
It’s because Fable’s so damn gorgeous yet mysterious. She says a bunch of stuff without ever really saying anything at all. I thought I was a private person, but she puts the P in private, she’s so close-lipped. I’ll give myself some credit, though, and put us on equal footing for being so—ha—fascinating, considering the Niners almost made it to the Super Bowl during my first year as their quarterback. Me, the rookie nobody had any real faith in, almost took the team all the way, but we lost in the final game before the Super Bowl. That sucked. More than anything, that f**king hurt.
I have another chance, though. In fact, I have lots of them, what with many seasons ahead of me considering my multiyear contract. We came out strong at the beginning of this season and we’re still going for it. We’re back and we mean business. The team is on my side now; last year’s season confirmed it.
Plus, f**k it, I’m a nice guy. I’m not an egotistical ass. First, Fable would never let me act like that. And second, I’m not stupid. I need my team. Football is a team sport, for Christ’s sake. I’d be an idiot to shit all over my teammates and then expect them to be devoted to me and play well.
I’m waiting for Fable now in our hotel room. While I went to practice, she went and explored Boston with one of the other players’ wives. That’s another thing—my wife is out making friends, getting to know the other wives, becoming more social. She’s really opened up. She’s more confident, easier to laugh, easier to talk to someone she doesn’t know. Again, she’s a private person, but she’s become adept at putting on a public persona. She shows the world what they want to see.
But deep down, she’s still the sweet, fiercely protective girl I fell in love with. She’s still my Fable. My story. My life.
An idea comes to me, one so outrageous, so over the top, I know we have to do it. Fable will think I’m crazy but I don’t care. I’m excited just thinking about it.
The door suddenly swings open, interrupting my thoughts, and in walks Fable, carrying what looks like about fifty shopping bags on either arm. She huffs out a loud breath and I go to her, help her by taking some of the bags so I can set them on the bed.
“What the hell, did you buy all of Boston?” I ask incredulously, noting the store names scrawled across the bags. Expensive places, most of them. I guess she’s gotten over her fear of spending too much money.
Not that I’m protesting. I want her to have fun and buy whatever the hell she wants, whenever she wants it. She’s worth it.
With a laugh she dumps the remaining bags on the bed and then collapses on top of it, her arms thrown out wide, the bags starting to tumble over and fall on her. Her laughter grows and I grab the bags, dumping them on the floor so they’re not spilling all over her. “I had the best time. We went all over the place and had lunch. Amanda is so sweet, and so is Bryce.”
I frown and settle on the bed beside her, making the mattress dip so she slides toward me. “Who’s Bryce?”
“Her baby. Oh, Drew.” She sits up, her eyes shining, her cheeks glowing from the cold air outside. She looks excited, full of hope. “He’s so sweet and cute. Just a little doll. And so good-natured. He hardly cried at all and we were out shopping for hours.”
Uneasiness slips over me. “Right. I, uh, forgot Thomas has a new baby.” Jay Thomas is a great guy, but hell, he’s thirty years old. I still have a ways to go before I hit that age. I’m not ready for kids.
Am I?
No. I’m definitely not. Not yet.
For the longest time I could hardly take care of myself. How can I take on the responsibility of a baby? Yeah, I’ve helped raise Owen, but that’s different. He came into my life when he was fourteen. He could already pretty much take care of himself. And he’s not my child. Once you have a baby, it’s yours whether you like it or not. Completely dependent on you for the next eighteen-plus years.
A shiver moves through me at the thought.
“Yes, he’s adorable.” She sits up and takes my hand, her shoulder bumping against mine as she stares into my eyes. “Being with Amanda and Bryce made me realize something.”
“What?” I ask, my voice weak. I know exactly what she’s going to say. I’m not ready to hear it, though. I’m not ready for any of this.
“I want to try for a baby,” she says softly. “We should try now, don’t you think? If I get pregnant quick, I’d have the baby in the summer when you’re home and then I wouldn’t have to worry about you being away for a game or whatever when I go into labor. Now is the perfect time. The best time. I know we’re young and all, but we’ve been together for so long. I think the next natural step is having a baby. Don’t you? Don’t you want a baby boy that can carry on the name, or a baby girl you could spoil rotten?”