Page 144 of Faking the Pass
The ride back to Rhode Island was almost over when I got a text from Coach Maddox—who never texted me.
Good news. You’re cleared to play Sunday. We’re gonna start you. See you in the morning.
I let out a shout when I finished reading it. “Yes!”
Rosie, who’d been dozing against my shoulder, lifted her head.
“What? What’s happening?”
I tilted the phone so she could read the message. “It’s from Coach. I’m cleared to play again.”
Rosie sat up and threw her arms around my neck, laughing. “That’s amazing. Are you surprised? Do you feel ready? It’s only been eight weeks since your surgery.”
“I’m more than ready. I’ll wear extra padding just to be safe, but I know I can do it. I just… well, I was afraid to hope it’d happen this soon. We still have ten games left.”
She nodded, understanding immediately. “And you still have a chance at the Super Bowl.”
We hugged again, then I started texting my brothers in our group chat.
They were happy of course, and Merc joked about how he was going to wipe the floor with me when our teams met up in a few weeks.
Everything was perfect now—almost.
I’d decided at some point during the ride that I needed to do something to prove to Rosie I was in this thing for real—something beyond having sex eight times without a condom.
As I’d watched her dream against my arm and stroked her hair, it occurred to me that she might be pregnant now. And I realized the thought didn’t scare me at all.
That’s when I’d decided to propose again, only much better this time. The last one kind of sucked.
Lots of different romantic options went through my head, but I needed a little time to settle on one. I wanted to make sure the occasion was spectacular.
I wanted Rosie to have the kind of proposal that would erase all doubt from her mind and show her I wasn’t a man being led to his execution, but a man who was in it for the long haul.
That I was thoroughly in love with her and always would be.
Arriving at the house, the car dropped us off at the end of the gated drive, and I went to the mailbox and pulled out its contents, sorting through the pile as we walked toward the house.
Since we’d only been away for a night, I hadn’t paused the mail delivery.
The return address on one of the envelopes caused me to stumble a bit on the crushed seashell drive.
Randy’s law firm. It was addressed to Rosie, so I handed it to her.
“Looks like we might have a court date,” I said.
For the first time since I’d kissed her on the dance floor last night, I had a twinge of regret. Maybe rubbing it in Randy’s face hadn’t been the best idea.
Or maybe this had already been planned. I wasn’t all that sure how these things worked.
Weird coincidence though.
Rosie tore open the envelope, pulling out the letter inside and reading through it quickly. As she did, her face paled.
“It’s this week,” she said. “Thursday.”
She looked up at me, “Pres, we’re both subpoenaed. Your practices. The game this weekend.”
My heartbeat slowed, mired in dread as I took the letter she offered, reading through it myself. It said we were both required to appear on Thursday, two days from now, ready to face the civil suit.
