Page 55 of Old Fashioned
And in the same breath that I found relief and warmth, I was also overwhelmed with a sickly cold terror.
Because suddenly, it was real.
Wewere real.
And I couldn’t decide why, in the pit of my stomach, there was the gnawing notion that none of it could possibly last.
Sydney
“I’d like to make some toast,” Paige said, holding up her champagne flute filled with Welch’s grape juice and holding her chin high.
Jordan barked out a laugh, but lifted his glass, anyway, and I did the same, smiling at him from across my dining room table.
It was Saturday night, and less than twenty-four hours before, the Stratford High Wild Cats had clenched our spot in the Tennessee Division I High School Football Playoffs.
“To Coach,” she said, addressing Jordan. “You were a loser at the beginning of the season, but that didn’t stop you, and just like I heard Mom saying when she was making fun of you to Aunt Gabby one night,you found a way to win, anyway!”
Jordan laughed again, cocking a brow at me as I kicked Paige under the table. “You were making fun of my word of the season, huh?”
“Shh, I’m not done,” Paige said before I could defend myself. “To the players, who have worked their butts off.”
“That’s right,” Jordan said, pride beaming off him like a ray of light.
“And to my mom.”
Paige turned to me, then, her little eyes that looked so much like mine crinkling at the edges as she lifted her glass toward me.
“The strongest woman in the whole wide world, and the best athletic trainer Stratford has ever seen.”
Jordan held his glass toward me. “Hear, hear.” Our eyes met, and he smirked, making me blush.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” I said, heart squeezing as we all met glasses in the middle of the table.
“Here’s to winning not just our first playoff game, butallof them, and bringing another trophy back to Stratford!”
We clinked our glasses to the tune of a littleyeehawfrom Jordan and some giggles from me and Paige, then we all took a sip, setting our glasses back down and digging into the celebration dinner I’d made for us.
“That was quite a speech, Paigey,” I said, leaning over to help her cut her steak.
“I’ve been practicing.” She sat straighter, turning to Jordan. “Now, before we get too much into the celebrations, we need to talk about that defensive line and their low sack record. Jones is too big and powerful for him to not haveat leastten this season.”
Jordan smiled, listening intently as Paige continued on, offering her suggestions and advice on virtually every single player and coach and play by the time we’d finished eating. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise — not that I minded. My heart was full sitting at that table with my animated, passionate daughter and my kind, patient…
Whatever he was.
My stomach flipped, and I sipped down the last of my champagne before I stood, starting to clear the table.
“Cake?!” Paige asked excitedly, clapping her hands together and bouncing in her chair as she looked up at me.
I laughed. “In a little bit. Why don’t you go play in your room for a while.”
“But, Mom,” she groaned, her little nose wrinkling as she thrust a hand toward the television. “The Vols are playing Alabama. This is like the most important game of the season.”
I hung a hand on my hip, balancing the stack of plates in the other. “Jordan has spent the entire day playing football with you,” I reminded her. “Ever think that maybe he needs some adult time? You can watch it in your room.”
“Actually…” Jordan said, raising one finger up. He grimaced when I looked at him. “I really want to watch this game, too.”
“See?” Paige said, dragging out the vowels. “Come on, Mom. We’re celebrating tonight, remember? Football and cake and then IswearI’ll leave you guys alone.” She clasped her hands together. “Pleeeeease.”
