The Cheat Sheet

I hear the stampede of nephews before I see them. I brace for impact as they run down the stairs, scream my praises, and hug my legs, and then one by one, I’m robbed of my loot. They don’t even leave me with a single Ring Pop! The little footpads run off, and all I see is a haze of birthday bags as they brush past my sister, who is now approaching in the hallway with a scary smirk.

She levels me with a frosty glare. “You brought sugar into my house when I already had CAKE AND ICE CREAM?!”

“No.” I shake my head aggressively. “You misunderstood what you saw. Those were broccoli pops.”

“And the candy necklaces?”

“Vitamins.”

At this, she cracks a gorgeous smile and opens her arms. “Get over here and hug me you terrible, terrible sister.”

Mid-hug, I hear the door open behind me and my mom’s voice trill through the air. “My babies are hugging!! HAROLD, GRAB THE BAGS YOURSELF! MY GIRLIES ARE HUGGING!”

Mom barrels into us next and squeezes with all her motherly might. She fusses over Lily first and smacks her right butt cheek. “You haven’t been eating enough. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it while I’m here.” She looks over her shoulder and calls to our dad, who we’ve yet to see. “HAROLD, BRING IN THE CASSEROLE!” Of course Mom made a casserole.

Next, her sharp blue eyes turn to me, and I wonder what lecture I’ll receive. She gets close—closer than close, and narrows her eyes like she’s looking into a crystal ball.

“You’ve been kissing Nathan.”

I gasp. “How did you know that?!”

She waves me off. “I’m a mom, honey. I’ve always known everything, and I always will. It’s called motherly intuition.”

Lily cackles and then yells, “Bologna! It’s called Twitter! She signed up for a dummy account a few weeks ago and didn’t tell us. She saw your red carpet kiss.” Mom looks affronted. “Yeah, thought I didn’t notice, didn’t ya? Well I did, Mrs. Brightstone!”

“You didn’t,” I say, looking at my guilty mother. Mrs. Brightstone was the name she’d always use when we played dress-up growing up. She was a very wealthy woman—always going to balls in her mink coats. (Don’t throw paint, they were really only scratchy wool blankets.)

“I didn’t think you’d remember! And I had to! I knew you’d start filtering your content if you knew I was following you.”

“What? No way, Mom. You’re cool, and we’ve always known it.”

She smiles and turns with her oversized purse whipping against her hip as she saunters into the kitchen, at which point Lily and I both show each other our wide eyes and crossed fingers.

Mom yells from the kitchen like some sort of supernatural being, “Uncross those fingers, ladies, and gather the boys! It’s time to TikTok!”

At that moment, Dad emerges through the front door, loaded down like a pack mule with enough luggage to last them a month, beads of sweat trailing down his forehead, and a casserole tin clamped under his arm. “Please tell me Nathan is here too. He’s the only one who will be able to talk your mother out of the costumes she brought for the dance video she wants to do.”

I highly doubt that, but still, I throw my dad some hope. “He said he’ll be here.”

I’m almost to Bree’s sister’s house and I’m two hours late. After practice, I was already set to be an hour late, but then I sat on I-605 in traffic for another hour. I’m exhausted. Frazzled. And really wanting to bump the minivan in front of me to get it to go faster even though I think the stick family wearing mouse ears on the back windshield is supposed to deter me. It doesn’t.

Probably should have had my car service bring me, but…I don’t know. Sometimes when I’m tired and I think it would be great to take a nap, I feel the need to push myself harder. Plus I hate taking the SUV to personal events. It feels like I’m showing up with a blinking sign that says, LOOK AT ME I’M SPECIAL!

I let go of the steering wheel to rub my chest. It’s tight, and my heart rate is still high from practice. Bree was probably right—I should have gone home tonight. I couldn’t though. Things finally seem to be happening for us, and I want to demonstrate to her that I can be there for her and have a career in the NFL. I don’t want her to feel overlooked or put aside. I know she values family and events like this, so I want to show up for her. Maybe it’s just because I’m feeling deliriously tired, but during that brief kiss on the couch the other day (and definitely the one in the hallway that I’m still thinking about), I could have sworn she wanted it just as much as I did. Wanted me.

My wooing is working, and I can’t believe it. All this idiotic stuff the guys told me to do is freaking working. Bree and I are…I can’t even let myself think about it yet. Until I hear the words “Nathan, I don’t see you as just a friend anymore” come straight from her mouth, I’m not going to be able to accept it.

Finally, around eight PM, I pull into Lily’s driveway. It’s dark, but the lights in the house are illuminating the windows, and occasionally a little shadow darts past. After opening my truck door, I can hear absolute mayhem inside. I smile to myself because growing up as an only child, my house was always quiet. I love this. I want this.

My knocks on the front door go unanswered, so I let myself in. Chaos hits me like a tsunami.

Kids. Are. Everywhere.

So many of them in all different shapes and sizes. They are cackling and screaming, running through the halls with little nerf guns and pelting foam pellets at each other. I’ve met Lily’s boys a few times and Bree has brought their entire family to a few games, so the nephews know me right away. The birthday boy, Levi, sees me first and sprints toward me. I’m braced for impact, but he stops right in front of me and flashes me his toothless smile. “Nathan! Look at my new nerf gun!” He’s pumped, and I act as though I’ve never seen anything greater in my entire life.

I didn’t know what to get him, so I pulled a few strings and had most of the guys on the team sign a football for him. When he pulls it out of the bag, it’s clear I’ve epically failed, but he tries his best to look impressed.

“Oh. A football. Cool! Thanks.” It’s garbage. He hates it. I sort of love it, though, that some grown men would sell their kidney for that ball, and this kid savagely tosses it onto the couch. Old news.