27
Sam
Each cottage had its own pier. I laced Natalia’s fingers through mine as we stepped onto the splintered wood for pier 11. The sun was low on the horizon.
“We almost made sunrise.” She giggled.
“Almost.” I took a sip of coffee and helped her drape a blanket we grabbed from the cabin as we settled onto the bench nailed to the end of the walkway twenty yards from shore.
She snuggled against my chest and I felt the calm the nearness of her brought to my life. The world felt right. It felt quiet. I kissed the side of her temple.
The only place to get coffee around here was from the cabin the owners had converted into an office. It was sort of a welcome center for the guests. I filled up two large cups for Natalia and me while she was in the shower.
“It’s really beautiful here. I don’t want to drive back to Austin.”
“I don’t want to drive back to San Antonio.”
As long as we were keeping our relationship a secret, this was the way it had to be. I fucking hated it.
“Maybe this could be our special spot, though. The place no one else knows about. Our hid
eaway?”
I took a sip of coffee and nodded. “For now it can be.”
As much as I was tired of sneaking around, I started to think about what it would be like once we were free to be seen together. I didn’t know if I wanted to share Natalia. I sure as hell didn’t want to share this place. It was getting harder and harder for me to go out in San Antonio without people asking for autographs. Kids wanted to take pictures with me. Dads asked me for advice for their sons. The newness of the attention had started to wear off. I wanted my own life. There was a cost for fame I hadn’t thought through when I signed with the Wranglers.
I was tired of reading speculation about my love life. People weren’t satisfied with a single bachelor on the team. They wanted there to be a woman in my life. I couldn’t count how many times I was asked in interviews who I spent my free time with.
I wrapped a protective arm around Natalia.
“This kind of reminds me of a place I used to go fishing with my dad,” I told her.
“Really? You fish too?”
I laughed. “Of course. My dad and I fish, hunt, football—all that stuff.”
“You’ve never really mentioned your family.” Her hand slid to my thigh and I felt relaxed. We fit together so well.
“What do you want to know?” I asked.
“Where are your parents now? Are they still together?”
“Oh yeah. They’ve been married thirty years. Still going strong.”
“Basically, the opposite of mine.” She looked up at me.
“I think all marriages have their problems. The key is to find the person who can change with you. My parents seemed to have figured that out. Sometimes I don’t know how.”
“And mine didn’t. I think my mom kept expecting my dad to move us back here eventually. And he never tried. She was homesick. She missed her family, and when my grandmother became ill, it was the last straw. She wanted to be home and he refused to leave France. He’s not a very flexible person.”
“And that’s why you moved to Dallas? That’s shitty. I’m sorry.”
“I was asking about your family. Not talking about mine. Tell me more about these parents.” She changed the subject.
The sun rose higher and I looked across the lake. There was an early morning boater headed in our direction.
“There’s not much to tell. My dad played football and he and my mom met in college. She was along for the ride since the beginning. Football was her life too. I don’t know what discussion they had about me playing, but it was always understood that I was going to be a football player. She was all in. Still is.”