A knot of tensions felt like it was slowly unraveling in Laura’s chest. “Have you talked with Coach Perkins lately? Didn’t he tell you to keep him updated on things?” Keeping after Brian about stuff like this sometimes made her feel like his assistant.
“He called me last week. Tried to talk me into just going with the surgery they’ll pay for, the one the doctor said probably wouldn’t help me. I said no.” He laughed. “And Coach said, that’s why he admired me. He liked my determination.”
“He probably feels a little guilty that they can’t cover the operation, but you know he wants you back on the team.” God, I hope he can play again, she said silently to herself. She barely recognized Brian these last few months. All he did was drink and mope around; what would happen to him if he could truly never get back out on the field?
“Don’t worry, babe,” he said. “We’ll make it happen.”
Laura bit her lip. She believed that Brian meant what he said . . . but how long would it take them, between her waitress salary and his poker? “Wait,” she said, an idea popping into her head. “I was watching this show about doctors with your mom the other night.” Truthfully, it was a weight loss reality show on TLC, but Brian didn’t need to know that. “And one of the patients appealed to their insurance and they actually came back and paid for the whole surgery.” If that insurance company on TV had paid for someone’s gastric bypass, maybe theirs would reconsider Brian’s surgery. His whole future was on the line.
“I don’t know, babe,” Brian said, looking skeptical. “Don’t you think that’s just . . . TV?”
Laura shrugged. “Maybe. But if there’s a chance that it could work, shouldn’t we try? At least we’ll have given it a shot.”
Brian nodded slowly. “Why not, I guess? I don’t know how we even go about doing that, though. It sounds complicated.”
It was so nice to hear Brian sounding hopeful for once. “I’ll figure all that out,” Laura said, starting to feel excited. This was what they both needed—a little bit of hope. “We’ll get through this, and it’s all going to happen, just like you said. Then you’ll go back, play for LSU, get scouted by the NFL, and be a famous quarterback.”
Brian wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. “And we’ll buy a mansion,” he said, burying his head in her hair. His breath was warm against her neck, and she felt a happy tingle down her spine.
“Can it have a Jacuzzi?” Laura asked, fantasizing about the bathrooms she and Janet drooled over during their HGTV binge-fests. The type of person who had a bathroom with two showerheads and his and hers sinks would never have to clean up a million crawfish heads to try to impress their boss.
“It can have five Jacuzzis,” Brian said, pulling away and flashing that confident smile that made Laura fall in love with him in the first place.
“We’ll be such a power couple,” she said, grinning back at him. Her mind flashed back to the banquet she had envisioned just a few hours before on her drive home. “You really think it’ll happen?”
“I promise,” he said, leaning back and putting a hand over his stomach. His eyes fluttered closed.
“How are you feeling?” she asked. “Still turd?’?”
He chuckled and hung his head in shame. “I’m an ass, huh?”
“Yeah, but for some reason I keep puttin’ up with you,” she said with a small smile.
They fell into a comfortable silence. Janet’s wind chimes jingled in the cool evening breeze and a neighbor’s dog barked nearby. She stared up at the sky, where the stars seemed to shine brighter than usual. Laura felt like they were on the precipice of something great. They couldn’t be working this hard for nothing.
She blinked as she saw a light streak across the sky. “Oh my god, do you see that?” she said. “Is that a shooting star?”
“Huh?”
“I swear I just saw a shooting star!” Laura squealed. She had never seen one in real life before.
Brian squinted at the sky. “You sure it wasn’t an airplane?”
“I don’t think so,” she said, refusing to let doubt creep into her mind. “I’m gonna just say it was one. It went by so fast!”
“Cool,” Brian said, his eyes fluttering closed sleepily.
“You can make a wish on those, right?” Laura asked. He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I think that’s what you’re supposed to do. I’m gonna do it, okay?”
She closed her eyes tight and tried to think of the biggest wish she could make. There were so many things she wanted—make that needed—at this moment. How was she supposed to choose? Then, it hit her. There was one wish that would cover everything. She quietly recited to herself, “I wish for Brian to keep all of his promises.”
17
gabrielle
GABBY COULD HAVE sworn that the Fords’ cast-iron gargoyle doorknocker was leering at her. She’d been standing in front of their wooden front door for too long, shivering in the November chill. She knew she needed to knock and go inside, but something about the gargoyle stopped her. It was like it was staring her down, judging her for all her lies. Stop being silly, she told herself, trying to shake off the feeling. With a deep breath, she knocked, and moments later, Tony appeared, greeting her with a wide smile and sweet kiss on the lips.
“You look amazing,” he said, guiding her into the foyer of the Fords’ massive Victorian home. “Happy Thanksgiving!”
He looked like a J. Crew model in his khaki pants and a cozy burgundy sweater, his sleeves pushed up slightly. He casually held his glass of bourbon in his right hand.
Love rushed through her. “Gosh, I missed you,” she confessed as she hugged him again. She inhaled his scent, trying to take all of it in—his signature Polo Black cologne, the hint of Tide lingering on his soft sweater—never wanting to let go. She planned on telling him everything tomorrow; this might be their last day together, and she was going to make it count.
“I have a surprise for you,” he said with a big smile.
She looked up at him, wondering what in the world he could have for her this time. “You and your surprises . . .”
He laughed. “This one isn’t a ring, I promise! It’s a person. Guess who’s here. . . .”
“Is this my future daughter-in-law?” a deep voice greeted her. A giant bear of a man with salt-and-pepper hair walked over. His deep brown eyes—just like Tony’s—squinted, assessing her. He was much taller and more intimidating than the pictures Tony had showed her.
Gabby forced a casual smile, trying not to look nervous. “Hi, Mr. Ford! It’s so nice to meet you.” She held out her hand, hoping neither of them would see it was trembling. She was even more nervous about meeting him than she was about meeting any of the rest of his family. It was probably the way Tony talked about him, like he was hard to please.
He walked over to her and stopped. “None of this handshake business,” he said, waving her away. “We do hugs around here.” He swooped in and squeezed her tight. “Welcome, sweetheart.”