Page 98 of The Comeback Pact

“I’m not waiting on anybody.”

A ball of mixed emotions clogs my throat. I’m nervous, scared, and happy balled into one. When I told Kenna a few weeks ago that I didn’t want to go into the next phase of my life without her, I meant it more than anything.

Today’s the draft.

Today’s my wedding day.

Next week, we’re both graduating and heading off to wherever the NFL deems my fate.

Neither one of us needed a big wedding. We just wanted the two of us along with everyone who has always supported us.

The door opens again, and Aidan calls out, “Look who we found.”

Coach comes striding in. His wife follows behind him, the other players taking in the rear.

Coach has been my father figure since I was a freshman, and when he shakes my hand, I feel it. All the love. All the encouragement.

He slaps my back. “This day has been a long time coming.”

More food gets set on the table. More bodies crowd around. Kenna and I are forced to squeeze together, and when she takes my hand, I know she’s feeling the nerves, too. It’s not every day you surprise people with a wedding.

I check my watch. If my mother doesn’t get here in the next five minutes, she’s going to miss it.

The minutes tick by. There’s happy laughter and people trying to talk to me, but I’m completely consumed. Everyone thinks it’s draft nerves, but it’s not.

It’s…expectation.

I always felt like Kenna and I were an inevitability, and that feeling has only grown stronger.

Aidan peeks up at me, and I nod. He moves to come talk to me. “Your mom?”

I shrug. “I’m not waiting.”

“West,” he cautions.

He’s the only one who knows what’s going down today. Someone had to get the license to marry us, so here he is.

“I—”

The doorbell rings, and I hold a breath in my throat while Kenna beams. She runs to the door, and in walks my mom.

I try to hold it in, but emotion overpowers me. I clear my throat, swallowing. The one thing I needed her to be here for, and she actually came.

Kenna gives me the brightest smile as she leads her in. Mom walks right up to me. Like Kenna, she barely comes up to my shoulders. Her thin, frail hands surround me with a little more strength than they have in the past. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you,” I tell her. If she keeps showing up for me, I’ll continue to show up for her.

Now, everything feels complete.

Kenna and I link hands. The strength we draw from one another is calming. The tension in the room has only increased, brought on by all the nervous, excited energy with every newcomer.

“So, are we turning the TV on?” Coach asks, rocking back on his heels while he stands next to Kenna’s dad.

“Before we do that,” Kenna states, smiling up at me, unshed tears making her eyes shine.

I turn toward our friends and family. “We brought you here under false pretenses.”

The room goes quiet.

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