Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
I snort. “I think you’re giving my instincts way too much credit, Luc.”
“Nah. You’re gonna be a natural. You’ll see.”
He’s got far more faith in me than I’ve got in myself in this situation. Which is par for the course, when it comes to Luca Maguire. The man is an eternal optimist. “The whole world will be watching me,” I remind Luca. “I don’t want to mess this up and subject myself to endless ridicule.”
Luca pats my arm and smiles. “You’ll do great. And don’t forget, I’ll be right here next to you the whole time. I won’t let you mess anything up.”
He flashes me a reassuring smile, even though I’m sure smiling is the last thing he feels like doing right now. After working his tail off throughout the short preseason with yet another new team, poor Luca wound up only making their practice squad. Which means, at least for now, it’s Luca Maguire’s job to practice with his team’s starting lineup—the fifty-three-man roster who’ll take the field every week. He’s still a professional, paid football player, however, so that’s the good news. But it was a gut punch for Luca to find out he won’t get to play in any actual games this season, unless and until someone on the roster gets injured or traded and then his team’s decisionmakers choose Luca to fill whatever open slot. In other words, his odds of playing on the field one day soon this season, the way Roman’s doing tonight, are pretty damned low.
“Do you want me to explain the basics to you again, now that we’re here?” Luca asks, motioning to the field. At my request, Luca’s been patiently teaching me about the game of football to prepare me for my life as a “WAG,” which I’ve come to find out is my new identity—the nickname used to describe the “wives and girlfriends” of players.
“Yeah, I’d love a refresher,” I say. “Thanks. Now that we’re here at the stadium, everything looks big and confusing.”
As Luca is pointing out the end zones, field goal posts, and some orange thingies with the chains attached for marking first downs, he continually finds ways to crack me up and put me at ease, even though I’m sure he’s feeling especially low tonight. It’s totally on brand for Luca. He’s his mother’s son, through and through.
Speaking of Luca’s mother—as Luca is wrapping up his tutorial, she arrives at our seats with Edward and the rest of our group for the night: Maverick, Marco, Nicola, and Marco’s parents. Roman’s other brother, Levi, couldn’t make it to the game tonight, unfortunately, since his team will be playing on Sunday morning across the country and he had practice today. But Marco and his family made it, since San Francisco is an easy flight to LA and Marco’s team, the Knights, will be playing on Monday night this week.
Greetings and hugs ensue, all of them warm and excited.
A cocktail waitress is summoned. Apparently, when you’re in the star quarterback’s fancy, reserved box, you can have anything you want throughout the game, without having to stand in a long line at a concessions booth or even pay for it.
When the server gets to me, I decide to order the same thing as Nicola: a cranberry vodka with a twist of lime, even though it’s not my usual drink. Nicola seems incredibly comfortable and confident in this crazy world, so I figure my best bet, at least for now, is to copy whatever she does, as much as I can. At least at first, till I get my bearings.
“Where’s Daddy?” Maverick asks, looking around the massive stadium. He’s sitting between his Uncle Luca and me, while Ava sits on my other side, flanked by the rest of the family down the line.
“See that tunnel down there?” Luca replies to his nephew. He rustles Maverick’s dark mop and directs him toward a large, inflatable tunnel set up in a corner of the field. “Any minute now, smoke will start coming out of there and your daddy will burst out with his teammates, and the whole place will go bonkers. So, get your hollering voice good and ready, Mavvy.”
“Oooh,” Maverick says, bopping in his seat with excitement. “Dere’s gonna be smoke?”
“Yep. It’s gonna be awesome.” Luca winks at me. “Get your hollering voice ready, too, Iris. Roman’s gonna need all of our good juju.”
“I’ll do my best.”
During the final preseason exhibition game last week, Roman played for only a few minutes—just long enough for the world to geek out over him passing a football in a Thunderbolts jersey—and I certainly screamed my head off for him then. But Roman told me the energy in that stadium was nothing compared to what I’ll experience in a real game. In fact, he said the whole exercise at that preseason game was nothing more than a PR stunt, basically. Plus, I wasn’t in a luxury box then, because that preseason game wasn’t a home game, like this one. So, Roman’s appearance in that stadium understandably provoked as many boos and cheers.