Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
I finish my sandwich and let my mind wander to the work I have to do at home and what my schedule looks like next week. Just as my eyes get heavy and I start to yawn, Dad speaks.
“When you do find a woman, find one like your mom,” Dad says out of nowhere.
My gaze whips to him, surprised that we’re still on the topic. Has he been thinking about this the whole time?
“She’s always been beautiful,” he says, his voice almost distant. “But she’s smart as a whip. Funny—my lord, that woman could make me laugh.” His chest rumbles as he chuckles. “I was a sucker from the moment that I saw her.”
“From the moment you saw her, huh?”
He shrugs. “I was in love with her from the moment I saw her smile. I knew right then that I was going to forget about trying to play sports. I’d give it all up just to be able to take care of her.”
I shift in my seat, setting my plate on the coffee table.
This isn’t a conversation we’ve ever had before. Dad’s always been open to discussing anything with me, but we’ve never broached his feelings for Mom. I know he’s always loved her. That’s never been a question. But even when I was having problems with a girlfriend or we’ve offhandedly talked about marriage or families, he’s never told me their origin story like this.
“One day, Drake, you’ll know the reason none of the other women ever made the cut. It’ll be because the woman standing in front of you was out there waiting on you to find her.”
“I think the woman for me has been hiding because I’ve had my eye out for her for a while.”
He gives me a half grin. “Of course, the woman for you is hiding, kid. If she knows you, she knows you don’t accept anything that you don’t have to work for.”
“Oh, come on, now ….”
“The hell if that ain’t the truth. Think about it. Have you ever been happy with anything that was just given to you?” He rolls his eyes. “No. You haven’t.”
Is that true? I ponder his statement, going back through my life to test his theory. In high school, I was pretty much given the point guard position because no one else could handle the ball—and I quit after my freshman year. I double majored in college because my communications degree felt too easy, and I worked my ass off to take the tight end position with the Illinois Legends from a talented veteran who thought he had the spot secured. Hm ….
Dad sighs, lifting the footrest of his recliner and getting positioned for a nap. “One day, you’ll meet a woman who makes your heart beat different. When that happens, your heart is hers. There ain’t no fighting it, son.”
He exhales, closing his eyes and resting his head against the chair. His breathing evens out and soon, he’s snoring.
The sun’s rays beat down on me through the window, bathing me in warmth. It’s cozy and peaceful, like I’m insulated from the world’s troubles. I, too, close my eyes and rest my head against the sofa with Dad’s words rolling through my mind.
I’ve always believed in a love like he was talking about. I guess from watching my parents show love and affection not just to us kids, but to each other, the idea of finding my soulmate has always been something I expected would happen one day. I imagined it would just happen—that I’d turn a corner and she’d be standing there.
The problem is that I haven’t found her.
My career was all-consuming for a decade, and football was my life well before that. I’ve had more than my share of nookie, as Pops calls it, but none of those women were the one. That was fine because I didn’t want to spend my time in that arena, anyway. Then I shifted trajectory and things changed.
A grin touches my lips.
It all changed when I started armchair quarterbacking.
I stifle a chuckle.
Gianna Bardot—you kill me.
Among other things …
Gianna is the only woman who has made me pause. She’s the only woman who I can’t just slide out of my brain. It’s like she holds a spot in my head and refuses to let go, overriding my defenses. I look forward to seeing her, finding things to talk about over coffee in the break room, and wondering what it would feel like to have a woman of that caliber beside me.
It’s not just sex that crosses my mind when I imagine her—although I’ve imagined bending that woman over every surface known to man. Fuck. But I also imagine watching movies together, making dinner, and sharing a bottle of wine. Laughing. Living.
That’s great—perfectly normal, even. But it’s not realistic.
Gianna is a dream girl. She’s the kind of woman who really only lives in men’s dreams. The fact that she’s real is wild … but it doesn’t change reality.