Page 117 of A Game Plan for Love

They have brightened my life in ways I didn’t know existed. I was skirting by before I met them, even before Alan died, but thinking of the future now holds hope and excitement rather than dread. It’s full of endless possibilities, and I know there’s going to be bumps, fights, and difficult choices, but there's no one I would rather traverse the winding path of life with than Addie.

Steadfast, kind, intelligent, Adeline.

The woman who never balked at my past or the mistakes I’ve made in life. The partner who is eternally grateful for everything in her life, even when she’s been dealt a less-than-ideal hand. The mother who puts her daughter first, even if it means sacrificing something of herself.

There will never be enough words in any language to properly describe what she means to me, but I’ll do my best to show her, tell her, how much I love her.

“Can we get snow cones later?” Nora asks, eyes sparkling. “I promise I’ll eat veggies at dinner.”

“Alright.” I cave immediately, because damn, a snow cone sounds delicious. “But go get some more sunscreen.” I drag a finger along the bridge of her bright pink nose. “You’re going to turn into a little lobster.”

Jack sneaks behind her and pinches her side, resulting in a loud squeal that nearly bursts my eardrum. I help Nora to the edge of the pool and lift her, and she patters over to Addie, spinning around and splashing them all with water.

Henry rises from his chair and slips into the pool. Nora takes his seat, lounging back to mimic Maren and Sawyer’s posture. She slides a pair of small, hot pink glasses onto her eyes, and Addie hands her a sticker book, which she flips open.

“Oh my god,” Henry says, leaning against the edge beside me. “They look insane.”

I fold my lips together to fight laughter as the five of them flip pages and sip drinks, soaking in the Florida sun. Addie rubs sunscreen on Nora, then returns to her book.

I rub my sternum. I didn’t think it was possible to love somebody else so much.

A wave of water hits the side of my face, and I spin to find Deon wearing a wide grin.

“How does it feel?” he asks, making space for Jack to complete the small circle we’ve made in the pool.

I dip my shoulders beneath the water, letting it cool my skin. “How doeswhatfeel?”

“The zing.”

Oh.

How do I describe something that feels otherworldly?

“It’s like…birds chirping in spring and bonfire nights in the summer. Cold winter nights with hot chocolate and crisp fall afternoons, stomping through fallen leaves. It feels likehome.” They nod, knowing the feeling for themselves. “To me, they are a future I’ve never allowed myself to dream about, not fully. Before, I pushed it down into the deepest parts of myself, because if I allowed myself to long for something I’ve never had, it would crush me if it never happened. With them, I can dream again.”

I glance back over to my girls, and Addie’s book has fallen from her grip, and her mouth is parted slightly as she snoozes. To the left, Nora is in nearly the same position, the both of them are out cold. I laugh softly, then turn back to my friends.

“Those two,” I point over my shoulder, and they laugh at the sight, “are my dream now. And maybe it’s silly to put my hopes and dreams into other people, but I would be perfectly content to be Addie’s husband and Nora’s parent. No other title needed.”

Like I told Sharon, I could let it all go with zero regrets. I don’t need trophies or titles, or championships as long as I have them. When I started my career, the accolades and acknowledgement was my drive—my purpose.

I thrived on the attention I had craved during my childhood, and I grew addicted to the way it made me feel, and in that, I hurt the people who truly cared about me. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about those mistakes, but they shaped me into a new person—a person I’m proud of.

All of it led me to Addie.

And those friends, the ones who gave me a second chance, are the ones who turned into family. Who cheered me on in my accomplishments, and held me at my lowest points. They taught me that family isn’t always defined by blood, but rather the people you choose to invite into your life. It’s about forgiving when mistakes are made, and loving one another at their best and worst.

They’re the friends who sat on a couch and scribbled on a whiteboard. Who urged me to chase something, even if I was afraid. Without them, none of this would have been possible.

I will forever be grateful for their friendship, the abundance of love shared between everyone, and the role they’ve played in my life. But most of all, I’ll never be more thankful for a massive whiteboard and a game plan for love.

EPILOGUE

Ordinary – Alex Warren

Addie

Six months later

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