Page 137 of The Goat in the Bedroom
He hung up and shook his head. “That boy's going to have a heart attack before that baby even arrives.”
“Pen's having contractions?” Jules asked, concerned.
“Practice ones. But Everett's acting like she's about to deliver on the living room floor during halftime.”
“Remember when Mom was pregnant with Jules?” Declan grinned. “Dad made us do emergency drills to the hospital.”
“That was educational,” Dad protested, returning to the grill.
“You timed us with a stopwatch,” Hayes added.
“Preparation is important,” Dad insisted. “And Everett's going to need all the preparation he can get. That boy's already wound tighter than a spring.”
Flynn's phone buzzed with a text. “Everett says Pen is fine and eating nachos while yelling at the TV because the pregame announcers are disrespecting Isak's potential.”
“That's our Penelope,” Kelsey laughed. “Seven and a half months pregnant and still ready to fight anyone who underestimates a Kingman.”
The parking lot had turned into a full Kingman family reunion minus one. Chris had claimed an entire section with multiple trucks and a tent that probably violated several parking regulations. Declan and Kelsey were taking selfies with fans who recognized her, though most were more excited about meeting a Big Bowl champion. Hayes and Willa were attempting to set up speakers while FaceTiming with Everett and Penelope back in Thornminster.
“This is insane,” Artie said, appearing at my elbow with a plate of food. “Your family tailgates like they're hosting a wedding.”
“First time for everything,” I admitted. “I usually missed all this, being in the locker room by now.”
“Your dad's been explaining the finer points of charcoal versus propane for twenty minutes.” She bit into a breakfast burrito. “I think he's adopted me.”
“The whole family has adopted you. Nana made you a lucky pillow.” I pointed to where Nana Evie was pulling out what looked like half a craft store from her bag.
“I'm making a blanket for the game,” Nana called out. “It gets cold in those stadiums.”
“It's seventy degrees,” Jules pointed out.
“California cold is still cold,” Nana insisted, wrapping herself in approximately seventeen scarves despite the sunshine.
As the morning went on, more people showed up. Flynn's defensive line teammates from senior year, some of my O-line, even Xander Rosemount who'd flown in.
“Baby Kingman's first bowl game,” Xander said, clapping me on the shoulder. “You ready to watch him become a legend?”
“He's not even starting,” I reminded everyone for the hundredth time.
“Yet,” the entire group said in unison.
“You all jinx things professionally or just as a hobby?” I asked.
“It's not jinxing if it's destiny,” Chris said sagely, which made absolutely no sense but sounded profound enough that everyone nodded.
The stadium was packed, that electric energy of college football that the League, for all its polish and professionalism, could never quite replicate. The Flower Bowl was legendary and being here felt like being part of history.
“I can't believe we're actually here,” Artie said as we found our seats. “Remember watching bowl games junior year of high school?”
“You asked why they were called bowls when the stadium wasn't bowl-shaped.”
“It's a valid question that you never adequately answered.”
“I explained it perfectly.”
“You said 'because football' and then got distracted by a touchdown.”
“That's a perfect explanation.”
