"Oh?"
"I got that job with Colette's mom I was telling you about. And a few of my clients have agreed to stay with me, and not with Lorenzo. We're going to be doing well."
"Good," Troy says, wiping at his face. "So would it be out of place for me to drop off a few tickets for next week's game? You know, for the three of you."
“That would be great.”
Troy and I wash up, then go into the living room, holding hands, flushed from our quick tryst and still smiling. Laurie smiles from her position in Mom's lap while Woody and Buzz run onscreen. "See, Grandma? I told you they were being kissy."
Troy can't help it, and neither can I as we start laughing, and even Mom joins in while I sit in Troy's lap for the rest of the movie, just bonding as a family.
Chapter 22
Troy
"I'll be honest with you, Tom, perhaps the brightest point so far in the Hawks dismal start to the season is the play of Troy Wood."
I wish Laurie would shut off the morning sports programs. I'm aching from the collisions last night, but lying on the couch in my sweat shorts and a t-shirt, I'm too happy and pleased to care. After all, I'm on my couch in the living room, and for the first time in my life, my daughter is eating breakfast in my living room with me.
I was shocked and elated the night before when, getting home from the stadium, I found Whitney and Laurie both waiting outside. "Daddy!"
"Baby girl, what are you doing here?" I ask, surprised. "I mean, I'm happy, but . . . Whitney?"
"Laurie asked, and I agreed that if you were okay with it, maybe the two of us could have a sleepover at her daddy's house," Whitney said, and so we did. Whitney even joined me in bed, although she knew that I was too sore and exhausted to do much more than curl up, hold her in her pale mint silk pajamas, and go to sleep. Now, lying on the couch, I’m slowly trying to recover enough to get up and do something.
"Wood's play on any other team would be considered inspirational, and certainly leadership material," the talking head on the TV rattles on, Laurie eating up the replays of the highlights of the game. "I mean, nine tackles, a sack and enough punishing hits to any receiver who entered his zone that the only time the Bolts threw over the middle was when he was out of the game. Frankly, if it wasn't for the fact that Troy Wood only played about half of the defensive downs for the Hawks, he would’ve reached Madden-like numbers. So let me ask you, if Troy Wood keeps this up, are we looking at a potential defensive player of the year?"
Even I raise my head at that, blinking in surprise. I know I'm having a great start to my season, but player of the year? "It's hard to tell. We’ve been around the League for a long time. I mean, I was retired before Troy was even born. We both know it’s a little early to be talking about that, but he’s certainly well on his way if he keeps it up.”
"True. And of course, if the offense can start to string together some series and keep the defense off the field, it'll give them the ability to not spend nearly forty minutes on the field on a weekly basis."
Forty minutes, nearly two-thirds of the game. Jesus, no wonder I feel like I've been in a series of car accidents. "Laurie, I know you like the replays, but can you turn it down, baby girl? It makes me embarrassed to listen to these guys make me sound so awesome."
"But you are awesome, Daddy," Laurie says, still turning down the television and watching every second of it as if she knows everything they’re saying. "Mama says so too."
I hear the shower in the back turn off, and I smile, knowing that if it weren’t for the pain in my body, I'd be back there with Whitney if only to look at her. Still, the idea of her luscious body under the warm spray of my shower sends a little twitch down below, and I find the energy to at least push myself up to a sitting position on the couch. "That may be, but do you know what having a big head means?"
“It means you need a bigger helmet?"
I can't help it. Her innocence makes me smile. The point of view when you are five. "Not quite. No, having a big head means when you start thinking you’re more awesome than you really are. You start to forget there are always things you can do better.”
"What's—" Laurie starts, but before she can finish her next question— she seems to have a million of them every time we're together, and I find that I'm more patient with them than I thought I'd be—there's a knock at the door, and she pops to her feet, already running to the door. "I got it!"