Page 54 of Everywhere You Look

“Because I love him, and even if it isn’t fun to lose, watching someone that you love win feels so good. Look at Lemmie,” I say, pointing to where her sister is still celebrating her touchdown. “Doesn’t she look happy?”

“Yes,” Mellie grumbles.

“And don’t you love your sister very much?”

She gives me a long, dramatic sigh, but I can see the corners of her mouth turning up into a smile.

“Yes, I love Lemmie the most.”

“That’s what I thought. So why don’t we go congratulate her? And I bet the next time we play a game and you win, Lemmie will be so happy for you because she loves you, too.”

I help Mellie up off the grass and she runs over to hug her sister and congratulate her on her touchdown. I can tell she’s faking her excitement, but that’s fine. She’s giving graceful defeat her best shot, and that’s all that I can ask from her. Their hug turns into a game of tag, and the two of them go sprinting off across the sprawling grass field.

“Those kids are fast as hell. Maybe we should get them into some kind of camp this summer, they have a chance at making a solid pair of running backs with that speed,” I say as Luke and I watch the girls run laps around a large palm tree. Ollie starts to babble, squirming to be let down. Luke unbuckles her and sets her in the grass where she starts to toddle after her sisters.

“No football. Gigi always said that while she was okay with me letting my brains get scrambled by linebackers, she didn’t want that for her daughters.”

“Fair,” I agree with a laugh. “Maybe soccer or something, then. And now that Ollie Bug is moving around on two feet, we can sign her up for the BabyNinja gymnastics class at the rec center after her birthday.”

The mention of Ollie’s first birthday has Luke’s spine stiffening, the way it always does. I almost regret bringing it up, but it’s not something we can avoid forever. Ollie will be turning one in two weeks, the same week that we’re set to face Joseph and Rebecca in court. Thankfully, our baby girl is blissfully unaware of the dark shadow being cast over the milestone.

“Sorry,” I say, reaching down to grab Luke’s hand. He intertwines his fingers with mine, and I give his palm three good squeezes. I didn’t realize it the first time I did it, but the way I squeeze Luke’s hand when we’re connected has come to mean something to me. It’s how I show him I’m here, that we’re in this together, that I am his strength. He can put his pain in my hands and let me carry it for him.

It’s how I tell him that I love him.

Fuck.

I love him.

I’m in love with my husband.

The realization hits me like a ton of bricks, and I feel both relieved to have finally put a name to the insufferable tightness in my chest and stupid as hell for not noticing it sooner. Of course I’m in love with Luke, it makes perfect sense. That’s why I’ve alwaysclung to him. Why I’ve jumped at every opportunity to spend time with him, laugh with him, heal with him. Why I’m so quick to inconvenience myself if it means making his life a little bit easier. Why I never feel completely settled until I’ve got my eyes locked on him.

Hell, it’s been here the whole time. Everywhere I look, my love for Luke shines like a disco ball, casting my life in a shining, iridescent glow.

I feel like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me, the weight of everything I’ve ever felt for the man next to me sitting heavy on my shoulders. And I need to tell him. It’s not the best timing, but fuck it. I can’t hold it in any longer. It’s time to take a leap of faith.

“Luke, I—” I start, but I’m cut off by the simultaneous buzz of our cellphones. The likelihood of both of our phones being pinged with notifications at the exact same time is extremely low, so I whip my phone out of my pocket expecting an earthquake alert or some other event that would require us to quickly get ourselves and the kids to safety.

Instead, staring back at me on my screen is a text message from our lawyer, Lori. There’s a link to an article accompanied by a row of ten question marks. I look at Luke, who is staring down at his own phone as another message comes in.

Lori

Neither of you thought it was important to loop me in on this?

I click the link to the article, and Luke mutters an angry curse.

Fuck, indeed.

““America’s GoldenBoy Leaves Cheerleader Alone and Penniless”. I mean, for fuck’s sake, the clickbait is out of fucking hand,” Lori says for the fifteenth time in as many minutes as she paces around her office. After we got her message, Luke and I dropped the kids off at my sister’s house and rushed across town to meet with Lori.

“Honestly, is anyone going to buy this shit?” I ask, my tone incredulous even though my insides are twisted in a knot of nerves. Throughout the last few months, I thought I’d run through every scenario in my head of how this custody battle could go sideways. Wanting to be the good man in the storm, I prepared for everything I thought could happen. I waded through the dirt Luke’s parents could try todig up on him, every hot mic that caught him being less-than-sportsmanlike during a game. I even had him tell me about any hookups that could be dragged out and used to make him look like an unfit guardian.

But in all that preparation, I never stopped to think that it could be my past that puts our family in jeopardy.

“Tell me it’s not true, Dean. Tell me you didn’t knock some girl up and leave her all alone to deal with the pregnancy. Tell me you didn’t conveniently leave out a big fucking piece of this puzzle and that I’ve been working on your husband’s case for nothing.”

Lori slams her hand down on her mahogany desk, and I wince. I spent my fair share of time in the principal’s office when I was a stupid kid, and this feels a little bit like getting chastised for schoolyard pranks. Only with much bigger consequences.

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