Page 45 of The Fantasy League
“To you or in general?” I taunted.
“Be serious,” she whispered sternly.
Oh, I was being serious.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, when the whole football thing is over, what do you want out of life? Do you want to get married one day? Have kids? Tell me.” Scarlett pulled the blanket up to her neck and curled into it.
“I guess I want the family that I didn’t have growing up, you know? I’ve got the cars and the houses and Mom’s taken care of, but I’ve sacrificed friendships and relationships to get here…”
When I was younger, I planned out my life exactly how I thought it would go. Join the league at twenty-two, get married at twenty-six, have a kid or two before thirty, win four League Bowls before retiring. But it didn’t work out the way I’d expected.
And sometimes I felt like what I wanted would never come.
“Do you ever wish that you had siblings growing up?” She yawned.
“When I was younger, no,” I answered honestly, letting out a heavy sigh. “But I do now. I just hope that one day, I can be the husband and father mine wasn’t. And have good people around me who I can share life with, you know.”
She nuzzled her head into my deltoid and rested it there for a moment without saying a word. I almost thought she fell asleep until she whispered in a soft voice, “You’ve got me.”
Her words were a blow to the stomach.
I’ve got her.
Just not the way that I wanted to.
“I liked that answer.” She yawned, tugging the blanket we shared until I had just a sliver of the corner left. “And for the record, I think you’ll be a much better husband and father than your dad was one day.”
“Glad you approve, Red.”
“Stay for another one?” she asked, picking up the remote next to her before lazily browsing through movie titles.
Like I could ever say no to her.
Two hours later, Scarlett had wiggled closer so that we lay parallel with her head at my feet. In her sleepy state, she curled up with them pressed to her cheek and I already couldn’t wait to make fun of her for it tomorrow.
“Red, do you want me to go?” I rasped, my voice grew low as the sound of raindrops pounding on the window grew louder.
“Stay.” She tried covering a giant yawn as she clicked the play button for our third movie. “I’m not even tired.”
Minutes later, I watched through heavy eyelids as she drifted to sleep next to me.
A good man would have picked her up and carried her to her bed, placed a kiss on her forehead, and walked back home.
But I wasn’t a good man.
I was a selfish one.
So, I stayed, just like she asked, and slept through the night with my girl snuggled upside down against my side.
* * *
It was hardlylight outside when I woke to the sound of birds chirping loudly out the window.
I forced an eyelid open to see the sunlight slip through the opening in the curtains, meaning it was probably just after six.
Stupid fucking birds.
