Page 87 of Fate in Motion
He kisses me again and takes off, sprinting down the tunnel. And just like that, the best day of my football life keeps getting better.
The four of us make it to the neighboring sports bar, called Hawks Den, which is just a short walk from the stadium. We pass dozens of fans along the way. Some jump on us with cheers and high-fives, but most pull back after a moment, recognizing we want to celebrate with each other.
I walk in with Paul, Mel, and Nate. We head toward the back, where a roped-off section is reserved for the team. A group of coaches, including Coach McCormick, and about half the roster are already there, standing around a cluster of tables surrounded by vodka bottles, beers, and enough booze to get an entire team drunk.
As we make our way in, Miller spots us and pulls me and Nate into a hug. I glance back and see Paul and Mel talking with Lisa, Miller’s girlfriend, so I know they’re good.
Nate turns to Miller and says, “Dude, congrats. Now you better win next week.”
I add, “Right? We better win. Throw me a damn touchdown.”
Miller smirks. “Dude, how about you get open sometime?” I slap the back of his head lightly, and he laughs.
Then he leans in and says, “Okay, so…rumors are flying that you’ve got a contract on the table.”
Before I can answer, Marcus rushes over. “Excuse me, is this true?”
I nod. “Four years.”
They all erupt at once. “Holy shit, dude!”
Marcus throws his arm around me. “Guess what, I just signed a three-year extension.”
Our eyes go wide, and the four of us cheer.
Marcus looks straight at me. “Does this mean we’re teammates for at least the next three years? Please tell me you’re going to accept the offer.”
I grin. “You have no fucking idea. I would’ve signed it right there, but the general manager wanted my agent to review the contract first.”
Before anyone can say anything else, Miller grabs a bottle of vodka, pours four quick shots, and hands them out.
“To contracts, shutouts, and next week,” he says.
We all down the shots, and Nate turns to me, already flushed with excitement, and says, “Let’s get fucked up.”
I kiss him on the cheek. “I’m already halfway there.”
Nate
Epilogue
It’s July 13, 2019, and it’s been about seven months since I fully decided to open my cafe, Fated Grounds. And now, the day is finally here. I can’t believe it’s finally here.
In just a few minutes, at noon, I’m hosting a soft launch with only friends and family in attendance. The public opening is tomorrow, which I am nervous and excited for. I’ve hired five staff members so far, with possibly more to come in the future. There are three men in their mid-30s and two women in their mid-40s, and they’re amazing. They’ve picked things up extremely fast, and they’re all so friendly and likable. Instantly lovable, really.
I ended up bringing in a total of fifteen tables. I kept the three original booths from the previous renters and added eight standard tables and seven high-top tables, some of which are longer than others, to accommodate larger groups. I made this place mine.
Right now, I’m already at the cafe, setting everything up. I’ve brought in sandwiches, croissants, and other pastries, which will be the regular food at my cafe. I’ve also catered full food trays for the guests. Some people have flown in, others have driven hours to be here.
Most of Carter’s close friends from the team are coming. Both of our families will be here and a few of Carter’s old teammates, too. I would estimate around 20 to 30 people in total.
This soft launch will help me determine if I need more staff, additional food, or if the tables need to be rearranged.
But more than anything, I just want to enjoy this night with the people I love. I want to celebrate what I’ve built over the past seven months and soak in the moment.
This is really happening, and Fated Grounds is real. I can’t stop thinking this is some dream, where I will wake up any second, still broke and helpless.
I secretly hope everyone shows up fashionably late, maybe because I’m nervous, which is definitely normal. Of course, everyone shows up perfectly on time.
