The Cheat Sheet: Chapter 30

It’s Super Bowl Sunday, baby! And, yes, the Sharks made it! They won the NFC Championship two weeks ago, and now we’re all here in Las Vegas where the Sharks (aka the greatest team on earth) will be playing the Donkeys (just kidding, they’re really called the Stallions, but no one cares about them, and we want them to eat dirt). Lily left her kiddos with Doug so she could be my plus-one. Nathan paid to fly us out first class last night, and I let him because my bank account has about two bucks and a piece of gum in it but there was no way I was missing the freaking Super Bowl. Also, now that we are officially together, I’ve had to get better at letting him pay for things. Turns out, it sparks joy for him when I let him spoil me, so I’m trying to say yes more often.

Like, for instance, when I received the email that my dance studio had been chosen for the available space at The Good Factory (I’m trying to play it cool, but just know I’m jumping up and down), Nathan immediately asked if I would let him pay for the renovations we’d have to do to turn the space into a dance studio, and we made a compromise. Instead of paying him back with the money I earned doing the commercial like I had planned, I’m going to use it for the renovations. See, growth.

I haven’t seen him since we got to Vegas because he’s been ridiculously busy with the team and media events, like he has been the last few weeks after winning the NFC Championship. I completely understand, though, and have stolen every moment with him that I can. Soon, it will all be over and we can finally spend a few months together in the offseason, free of his rigorous schedule.

There’s been nonstop, next-level texting though. Always flirty little numbers like this conversation we had shortly after landing last night.

Now, Lily and I are walking to our provided box at the stadium, strapped into painful high heels and Saran-wrapped in fashionable designer dresses a la Marshalls.

Except, because I’m me and can’t be counted on to completely conform to societal fashion norms, I’ve also paired my cute, white, bodycon dress with a black jersey (with Nathan’s number 8, of course) cinched with a little knot in the front.

Something I learned early on in Nathan’s career: NFL wives and girlfriends live by a strict fashion code, and that code is fancy AF at all times. As his friend only, I was free to go to the games in sneakers and a t-shirt. As his girlfriend…actually, who cares. I’ll still come to the games in whatever I want. Today, I wanted to wear heels and dress up. Next game, it might be a onesie with a hood. No one can ever really predict what’s going to happen with my sartorial choices.

After being shown to the box, we step inside and find Vivian, Nathan’s mom, already here and sucking up all the oxygen with her big ego. She’s swirling the olives in her martini glass, looking like she’s got at least ten snooty comments on the tip of her tongue.

“Hi, Mrs. Donelson, it’s good to see you again.” I smile and hold out my hand like a car salesman. Wanna buy this load of crap? Normal people hug in situations like this. But let’s all remember that Vivian Donelson is far from normal, and she’s always seen me as a threat to Nathan’s career. In other words, she hates me.

Those dark eyes—similar to Nathan’s but in a haunting way that makes you think they never shut—slither down to my extended hand. “Next time, you’ll do well to get a manicure before a big game like the other players’ wives and girlfriends. And leave the tacky bracelets at home. They don’t fit in this world.” Those eyes slide back up. Hand: unshook. “No one likes a hippie sitting in the NFL wives’ section.”

Lily steps forward like she’s going to rip her earrings out of her ears and pummel this woman Wreck-It Ralph style. I grab her forearm and stop her, because I don’t need her to fight this battle for me. I’m not even stung by her words. All I feel right now is sadness for Nathan. To have grown up with such an exacting, demanding mother would have been excruciating. No wonder he feels swamped by pressure and expectations. I’m also in awe of him for overcoming this woman’s influence and becoming such a generous, kind person in spite of her. It just proves that money is not what defines a person; it only enhances their nature.

Well, it’s time Mrs. Donelson is enlightened about her nature and what sort of effect it has on the people around her. Nathan has really stepped away from his parents over the last few weeks as per the suggestion of his therapist and has been committed to implementing new boundaries. He’s opened up to me about things from his childhood that I had no idea about and also talked frankly about his mom’s attitude toward me specifically. He was clear from the beginning of our new relationship that I never have to wear a gag around his mom. I’m free to speak my mind and stand up for myself with his full, unwavering support.

So everyone, stand back—I’m about to become this woman’s worst nightmare.

“Mrs. Donelson,” I begin with a measured smile. “First, it’s well past time for you to stop saying rude things like that to me.”

I think she would frown, but her face is always set in a scowl so it’s hard to tell.

I continue, “As I think you already know, I am here to stay. And you can be completely sure that if you continue to speak to me or my boyfriend like you have in the past, your days in this box with us will be over. Just because you birthed him and pushed him toward success, it does not guarantee your place in our lives.”

As I’ve said before, I’m no threat to women in Nathan’s life—until they make him choose. He will choose me every single time, and now that I know why, I fully intend to let that power go to my head. I will protect him just as fiercely as he protects me.

“I won’t speak on Nathan’s behalf even though I have a list as long as my arm of issues I would love to comment on, but as for how you treat me, you are condescending and rude, and I won’t put up with it.”

Lily’s eyes go wide and she presses her lips together to keep from openly smiling. Mrs. Donelson’s left eye twitches ever so slightly. Her chin rises in the air, and I’m prepared for her slashing words. Actually, I’m prepared for a literal slap across the face.

Neither of those things happen.

“This drink is horrible. I’m going to see if what they have out there is any better.” She brushes past us, and a chill sweeps through the air along with her. I thank my lucky stars Nathan is not close with that woman and I don’t have to endure her but a few times a year.

Once she’s gone and the door closes behind her, Lily turns to me. “I have never been more proud of you in my life.” Well, good, because I’m literally shaking now that it’s all over. “All that woman needed was a fur coat and she’d be a Disney villain. Also, where is Nathan’s dad?”

“He has a big meeting tomorrow that he wants to be rested for. He told Nathan he’d catch part of the game on TV.”

Lily blinks. “You’re kidding me.”

“I wish.”

Nathan has worked so hard to please his parents, and here he is, at the Super Bowl for the second time, and his dad doesn’t even bother to show because he needs to wash his hair and get his beauty sleep.

Lily and I walk down the three little stairs that lead from the entertaining area of the box to the leather seats in front of the glass. The stadium is rapidly filling with fans all decked out in conflicting colors of black and silver, orange and navy. Energy sparks through the stadium like fireworks. My own anticipation is bubbling through me, fancy champagne style.

Nathan (and his team, but seriously who cares about them) will run through that tunnel shortly, and this stadium will go wild. They hold signs with his name on it, wearing jerseys printed with his number, and the opposing fans fear him and what he will do today. His name will be on the tongues of thousands. Chanted and screamed. Everyone speculates, What is Nathan Donelson like in real life?

But I know.

I know about the green bottle of shampoo, and that he’s scared of flying. I know he can keep a secret better than Lily the summer a bottle of wine mysteriously went missing from my parents’ wine fridge, and I know Nathan’s sheets feel butter soft against my skin. He is mine, and my heart fist-pumps at the thought.

Mrs. Donelson returns a little later with a fresh drink, and we all sit in terribly awkward silence. She taps her long manicured nails against the plastic armrest, and we’re all dying for this game to begin. The long point of her high heel vibrates back and forth. Lily and I keep making discreet torture faces back and forth behind her back.

Finally, the announcers boom over the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to welcome the NFC Champions, the LA Sharks!”

The stadium flares with screams, and camera crews swarm. It’s showtime. I’m on the edge of my seat as the dense fog and bright lights fill the front of the Sharks’ tunnel.

And there they are.

Nathan emerges first with the team on his heels. They sprint through the fog with a self-confidence that shivers over everyone’s skin. In this moment, I don’t care what you think about the sport—you want to be these athletes.

Jamal flexes both arms and gladiator-yells. Other men are fist-pumping and air-kicking their way across the field to their bench. Nathan is quietly Nathan. He runs out with steel in his veins, unflappable as always. When he’s on the fifty-yard line, he stops and his helmet tilts up. I can feel his eyes on me as if his fingers were trailing across my skin. He smiles for the first time and lifts his arm to wave at me. And then he points. The universal gesture of This is for you, love. I make a goofy face then blow him a kiss. He catches it. Fans turn and zero their laser-beam eyes on me—but all I care about is Nathan.

During halftime, Lily and Mrs. Donelson are attempting to chitchat, but since Lily is talking through clenched teeth, I’m assuming it’s probably not going well. I’ve slipped away into the snack bar area of the box to stare at my phone just in case Nathan gets a minute to text me.

“…it’s because he’s been…distracted lately,” says Mrs. Donelson in a not-so-veiled attempt to blame the fact that the Sharks are down by a touchdown on me. I select a cookie from the table and take a large bite. Mmm, chocolate chips.

Lily feels the need to go to bat for me and Nathan—which is adorable and hilarious to me because I don’t waste one feeling on Vivian. “Distractions are good for humans. I think his distractions are what helped him evade that sack in the second quarter.” A bit of a reach, Lil, but the gesture is sweet.

Mrs. Donelson huffs. I continue to eat my cookie. “Not likely. He looks sluggish today. I don’t think he’s been spending enough time training.”

“I don’t think you’ve been spending enough time telling him he is doing a great job!!”

Whoa, that escalated quickly. Lily stands. Mrs. Donelson stands. These women are about to throw down, and I’m just back here enjoying my cookie.

My phone buzzes so I turn away and get lost in conversation with my favorite person.

Mrs. Donelson’s voice cuts through my thoughts briefly. “I push him because I love him!”

“THAT IS NOT LOVE,” Lily shouts.

“And just how long have you been a mom, missy?”

“Don’t missy me!”

I love that we’re joking like this. Behind me a daytime soap opera is unfolding, and Nathan and I are pretending we’re going to elope.

I turn around to the sight of Mrs. Donelson and Lily hugging. What the hell did I miss?!

We’ve all been holding our breath for the last ten minutes. This game is so tight. Currently, the score is 21-17, Sharks down by four. There are only thirty seconds left on the clock, and it’s fourth down. They need to get a first down in order to have a chance at winning, and they have no timeouts left. The stress in this stadium is palpable, and I honestly can’t imagine the pressure Nathan has on his shoulders right now as he sees the clock running out.

Both teams get into formation quickly, and then the ball is snapped to Nathan. He shuffles on his feet a few times, looking for an open receiver, but there’s not one. My heart hammers as I watch him tuck the ball under his arm and run. He has no choice but to try to get the first down himself.

At first, things look promising, but then, as if I’m seeing it all in slow motion, a defensive player busts through the line and plows into Nathan, laying him flat on his back.

The ball is knocked loose. Fumbled. Game over.

A collective gasp tremors through the stadium, and all of our shoulders sink. The player who tackled Nathan stands and extends his hand to help him up. I sigh with audible relief when Nathan takes it and stands unharmed.

I realize at that moment that I’m stuck to the glass wall like a bug on a windshield. Peeling myself free, I turn to face my sister and Nathan’s mom. Somehow, we’ve all managed to bond over this second half of the game. Lily really gave Vivian something to think about during their verbal spar, and she’s been more pliable ever since. Oh, don’t get me wrong, she’s still a major pill, but I think in that moment when Lily helped Vivian see that she had somehow become an exact replica of her own mother whom she despised, it stunned her.

We’ve gone through a lot, the three of us during this Super Bowl game.

And now it’s over.

The Stallions take a knee on the next snap, ending the game officially. I don’t give myself even a moment to search for Nathan’s face on the sidelines, because all I want to do is wrap my arms around him as soon as possible. So I use this time to hustle my booty down the elevator and to the media entrance. Security guards check my badge at the gate, and then I’m herded with the rest of the players’ family members through a dark tunnel that leads to the field.

Oops. I just realized I moved so fast out of the box that I accidentally left Lily and Mrs. Donelson in my dust. Too bad. Got to hustle, ladies.

I emerge from the tunnel just in time to see Nathan in the middle of the field, sharing a quick hug with the quarterback of the winning team. He’s classy, that Nathan. The man manages to look genuinely happy for his opponent, even though I know he’s devastated.

He has worked so hard to get to this moment, only to be the one who delivered the losing play in the end. I hope the media doesn’t harp on that one fault, because that man played a hell of a game before that moment and it deserves to be noted. But somehow, I know they will. That one clip of Nathan fumbling the ball will get shown on repeat over and over.

Cameras are all over the two quarterbacks exchanging words. Confetti rains down from above as players congratulate each other and show good sportsmanship that I know they are not feeling. Jamal is across the field, and he presses his finger and thumb into his eyes to stop tears from falling. Derek is on the bench with his head hanging low. I can’t find Price and Lawrence, but I’m sure their vibes are similar.

It’s a kaleidoscope of emotions on this field. Where one man is elated and chest-bumping his teammate or kissing his wife, another’s eyes are cast down and he’s choking back disappointment.

I lose sight of Nathan and feel slightly panicky. How is he holding up? My steel teddy bear of a perfectionist is on this field somewhere, and I know he’s crushed. I need to get to him.

Standing on my toes in the endzone, I crane my neck to see, but it’s difficult with so many other bodies on the field. I consider asking one of these giants in pads to lift me on their shoulders, but I’m saved when I finally spot Nathan on the sidelines exchanging words with one of his coaches. The man hands him something then points in my direction. I throw my arms open wide, ready to hold Nathan while he cries into my bosom.

When he turns, his gaze hits me like a heavy weight champion in the ring. I’m breathless. He doesn’t need to cry into my bosom. That man is smiling.

He walks toward me, confetti raining down on him, people hugging, celebrating, and crying all around him, and he parts the emotions like the Red Sea. He is sweaty and glistening. Sinewy arms are pumped and veiny from playing a long, exhausting game. Camera crews see his smile and swarm him. (I understand their curiosity.) Maybe he’s having a mental breakdown at this very moment? Maybe he threw the game on purpose? Because this is not the look of a person who just lost everything he’s ever wanted.

No. He gets close to me, and his bright white teeth glint under the field lights. He drops his helmet at his feet, and then his knee follows suit. All the chaos around us disappears. It’s me and my best friend. And he’s proposing.

“Hi, pretty friend,” he tells me, taking my hand in his, which is rough with new calluses and wrapped in medical tape. “I know we already planned it last night, but I thought you might like to hear it from my mouth rather than over text.” Nathan squeezes my hand, and I’m already crying. “Bree, my best friend, I love you. We haven’t been together very long, but we’ve also been together for years. Will you marry me? Will you let me love you every day from now on? Will you finally move out of your shitty apartment and into mine?”

I laugh. “This is all just a ploy to get me away from the mold, isn’t it?”

“It’s the only way you’ll allow it.”

“You’re so good at loopholes.”

He blinks up at me, and I see moisture on his lashes too. “Is that a yes?”

I nod my head frantically, laughing and crying and nearly peeing myself in the process. “Yes!”

Nathan shoots up from his feet and picks me up, spinning me as confetti lands around us like fresh snowfall. Can this really be happening?

“Tonight?” he whispers against my ear. “Will you elope with me?”

At this point, the camera crew gets bored with our Hallmark moment and wanders back to the winning team to hear them declare they are going to Disneyland.

Still in his arms with my feet dangling two feet above the ground, everything feels surreal. “Are you sure? I don’t know if you realize this or not, but this was sort of a big day for you. And…you do realize your team lost just now, right?” I don’t want to ask it, but the way he’s acting you would think the man was celebrating instead of mourning. And although eloping with Nathan is legitimately the stuff of my dreams, I need to know he’s sure. Need to be certain he’s not acting rashly because he’s disappointed.

He chuckles, and his arms tighten around my low back. “Yes, I know we lost. And yeah, I’m disappointed, but mainly I’m just relieved it’s all finally over. I feel like this huge weight has dropped off of me. Now, I’m just ready to breathe beside you for a while. Preferably on a beach somewhere. With you in the skimpiest bikini I can find.”

I would poke him in the sides, but he’s wearing full pads—hardly fair. Instead, I lean forward and take his lips in one bruising kiss. There, you’re punished.

“Bree, the whole answer is that I don’t want to wait another second without being 100% truly and completely yours. But if you want to wait and have a big wedding, I will. Don’t feel like you have to marry me tonight to make me feel better for losing. Because that’s not what this is for me.”

I lean in and kiss him again, taking my time to peruse his lips as if thousands of strangers are not watching. He tastes like sweat and hope, and there’s no way I’m passing this opportunity up. We can have a giant party when we get home.

“I’ll be mad if you don’t marry me tonight,” I tell Nathan, completely serious.

His cheeks crease with a smile and he sets me down. “Oh, I completely forgot to give you this—should we start over?” He holds up the ring box then pops it open.

I’m swimming in its beauty. This ring is punch-me-in-the-gut pretty, but most of all, it looks like me. It’s not gaudy or massive. I won’t have to drag my hand on the ground as I walk. It’s a simple, beautiful, princess cut diamond. Exactly what I would have picked out myself.

Just as I slip the ring on, Jamal, Derek, Price, and Lawrence all crowd around us. It’s a commotion of congratulations and sweaty hugs. It doesn’t get to last long because the guys have to go shower then Nathan has to be available for a post-game interview. He has just enough time to kiss me once on the cheek, twice on the neck, and once more on the mouth before he grunts in aggravation and forces himself to back away.

He points at me like he’s getting ready to toss me the winning catch. “Bree Cheese. Still with me?”

Cupping my hands around my mouth, I yell, “Always!”

I find Lily back in the box ten minutes later. Mrs. Donelson has already left, thank goodness, so I don’t have to explain anything to her right now.

“HURRY!” I say, pulling her up out of her chair. “GET YOUR BOOTY MOVING—WE GOTTA GET ME READY FOR MY WEDDING!”