Page 655 of One More Kiss

“We did it.” He smiles before pressing his lips to mine. “We did it.”

The flashes of the cameras capturing our moment surround us.

For the first time, I couldn’t care less.

I am at every single home game, and as many away games as possible too, but it’s exceedingly rare I subject myself to the madness on the field. Normally, I hide up in the box during and then wait for him outside of the stadium after games.

Crowds stress me out. That’s part of the reason I work with animals. Milo’s always been understanding of it. Our families get it too. The rest of the world, not so much.

While we realize there is an interest in our relationship due to Milo’s status as a professional athlete, we try to keep our relationship as private as possible. Though, right now, reporters could ask me anything and I would sing like a canary. They can take as many photos as they want. All I want is to be in this moment with the man I love.

“I’m so proud of you!” I start to congratulate him on what a great game he played but stop short when I hear a deep voice call out from behind us.

“We’re going to need copies of those pictures you just took.”

Chuckling at his dad’s request, Milo slowly lowers me back down to the turf below. He gives me one last peck before embracing his mother with a bright, full smile and open arms. Hanging back to let them have their moment, I pull my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and snap a picture of Milo talking with both of our parents.

Genuine pride radiates off Harold Perry as he offers his hand to his only child, pulling Milo into a hug the moment Milo’s hand is clasped within his own.

“This is incredible,” an awestruck voice pipes in from the side of me. “Best birthday ever.”

My younger sister, Lennon, looks around with wide eyes, taking in everything happening around us.

As if he didn’t have enough going on preparing for the game, as soon as Milo found out Lennon’s twenty-first birthday was on the same day as the conference finals, he went above and beyond to make sure she had a day she would remember for the rest of her life.

He booked three rooms at the hotel next to the stadium so she and her friends could drink as much as they wanted during the game and wouldn’t have far to go after. Our box was filled with balloons and champagne. He even gifted custom jerseys with a “21” on the back to Lennon and her two best friends.

And they weren’t the only people that got new apparel today.

When Milo dropped me off at the hotel before the game, he made sure to let me know there was something in Lennon’s room for me, too.

The fitted #16jersey with “Milo’s Girl” on the back that I’m wearing, a new pom-pom beanie, and a note that read, Tonight’s for you, princess. I love you more than cookie dough ice cream, was waiting for me.

I pat my back pocket as I reminisce, the cardstock tucked into my ripped jeans. While Milo’s parents have his attention, I turn to my sister.

“You better say thank you to Milo,” I say lowly.

I come off sounding harsher than intended, but I know if I don’t remind her, she won’t.To say that Lennon is spoiled is an understatement. My parents tried for five years after they had me for another baby. Lennon is their “miracle baby.” For a long time, I fed into it too. I was over the moon to become a big sister at six, and I doted on her. But as she grew, Lennon learned to use people’s love to her advantage. She could do no wrong in our parents’ eyes.

My parents are amazing—the best. Growing up, Claire and Walter Nottingham parented with the perfect mix of nurturing and tough love … at least with me. The tough love was long forgotten about by the time their miracle baby came.

“I will.” She scoffs, rolling her cobalt blue eyes she got from our father. “But, hey, Loch, I figure now is as good as time as any to tell you that I’m probably going to be a little short on rent this month.”

It’s just like her to say this now. She knows I won’t cause a scene down here. I refuse to take the attention away from Milo, and that’s exactly what would happen if I screamed at her for being a lazy, entitled brat.

After getting kicked out of her last shared apartment for non-payment, Lennon came crying to me, begging to move into the recently empty second bedroom of my apartment. Its most recent occupant, Hannah, my sorority sister and best friend from college, had the audacity to fall in love and get engaged.

Lennon did her due diligence, calling my parents with her brilliant idea before she asked me. The only reason I agreed is because my father begged me, too. For a little while, she contributed her half of the rent. It didn’t take long until she was a “few bucks short” or “would get me back” for paying the cable bill that was in her name. A few bucks turned into a hundred, and last month, I ended up having to cover everything all by myself.

“How short?” I ask, crossing my arms and looking straight ahead into the sea of people on the field. If I look right at her, I will lose my composure, and I will not let this night become about anything other than Milo.

“Like, all of it,” she says nonchalantly. Before I can respond, she adds, “And, I need a loan.”

Whipping around to face her, I curse under my breath. “Where is all your damn money going, Lennon?”

“I have shit to take care of.” She brushes off my question like I should accept her answer and let that be the end of it. “You know, not all of us are fucking a pro football player, Lochlyn.”

Before I can offer a rebuttal, my sister storms off the field.

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