But then, I had an epiphany.
What if that wasn’t the life I was supposed to live?
What if, for me, my work was my husband? What if I could have all the fun that goes along with being in a relationship — the laughter, the butterflies, the excitement of kissing for the first time, the knock-your-socks-off sex — and then… because the shoe fits… I take myself out of the picture, and continue living my kick ass life while the guy goes off and gets hitched, or whatever he decides to do?
Suddenly, being the good time girl didn’t sound so bad.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
From that moment on, I wore that badge of disgrace like it was a badge of honor, instead.
I wouldn’t be just a good time, I would the best damn time any guy I hooked up with would ever have.
And I’d never have to make them breakfast in the morning.
“It’s his loss,” Zach chimed in. “On to the next, right?”
“Damn straight. And,” I added, holding up one finger. “I’m going to add doctors to my list of Never Ever Ever Again Will You Ever Even Consider This Type of Man. Right under football players.”
Zach smirked at that. He was the only football player I tolerated, and it was probably because he didn’t play anymore — except to toss the ball around with Gemma, which was actually quite adorable.
“Oh! What if…” Gemma framed my arms, and I knew before she said another word that I wouldn’t agree with whatever she was about to propose. “What if we got you on a dating app.”
“I’m already on them.”
“I mean to actually date someone,” she expanded. “I know you’re El Presidente of the Single Forever Club, but what if you just tried it?” Her expression softened. “A lot has changed since college, Belle. You don’t have to play this role forever.”
“I like this role,” I pointed out, tapping each finger. “Hot sex, no one telling me what to do or where to be, no one complaining that I work too much, no one to take care of when they’re sick or just being a baby.”
No one to take care of me, I thought, but I didn’t say that one out loud.
“Maybe it’s time for a change,” Zach offered, and the word crawled over me like a dozen cockroaches, eliciting a shiver and grimace.
Change.
Why does everything have to change?
“It’s fine,” I said finally, hopping out of my seat. I grabbed a mug from the cabinet and filled it to the top with black coffee. “By the end of the week, I’ll have a new, hotter, better player in rotation.” I pointed at the two of them. “Just you wait and see.”
Gemma offered a sad smile, she and Zach exchanging looks that told me more than their words ever could have.
I knew they wanted to see me happy, but what they didn’t understand was that fairytales weren’t for everyone.
Some of us got stuck with the kind of stories that made you cry, that made your heart ache, that made you hold your knees to your chest and rock in a corner, or drown your sorrows in a bottle of wine or two.
That was the kind of story I had the leading role in, and I’d accepted it long ago.
I just had to find the next chapter.
Makoa
For as long as I could remember, there had only been two things I ever wanted in my life.
Love, and football.
The latter was easier to admit, and, I found out early in life, far easier to accomplish, too. I started throwing a ball as soon as I could pick one up, and then my dad was tossing spirals to me in the backyard, teaching me how to catch and protect the ball while I ran. My parents put me in Pee Wee football as soon as they could, and from there, I was unstoppable.
I was picked out as a top receiver by my Pee Wee coach, played in the Pop Warner Super Bowl twice, and even received the MVP Award the second time around. I went on to play varsity all four years of high school, and then four years as a starting wide receiver for The University of Hawai’i at Mānoa. Being six foot five and two-hundred-and-twenty pounds made me one of the tallest and largest receivers in college, and that, combined with my record-breaking high-catch seasons, got me the national attention I needed.
At twenty-two years old, I was drafted to the San Francisco 49ers in the second round of the NFL draft. I mostly rode the bench in my time there, but I made the cut, made the team each and every time.
And now, five years later, I was moving into my new home, in my new city, and getting ready for my first season with my new team.
The Chicago Bears.
Not that my position was set in stone, yet. As a free agent, I was essentially guaranteed training camp and pre-season games, a tryout more than an official position.
But I wouldn’t accept anything less than a spot on that team.
I was manifesting it in every way I could — by wearing the team colors, practicing every day in the “off” season, running drills and watching tape, getting close with the players I could to learn the ins and outs of the team. And, as the cherry on top, I didn’t just rent a place in Chicago. No, renting insinuated that I was temporary, that I was only staying for a little while.
Instead, I bought a condo.
Buying instead of renting spoke volumes. It was a symbol of my commitment. It was a good omen to turn my dream into fruition.
It was a mark of my permanence — in this city and on the Chicago Bears team.
“Braddah, look at this view!” My sister, Oliana, ran to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Lake Michigan, pressing her face right up against the glass. She was the youngest of our siblings, seventeen, about
