Sloane
Five Years Later

It was a beautiful October day, with a perfect blue sky and a Florida sun that was pleasant rather than oppressive. Days like these made me love living in the sunshine state.

Except I was stuck indoors.

“Okay,” I said, peeling my eyes away from the window and back to the rows of fourth graders in my classroom. “Who can tell me the difference between a right triangle and an acute triangle?”

Five hands shot up. I had a good class this year, full of over-achievers. I pointed to a boy in the second row who rarely volunteered. “Cody?”

“A right triangle has one angle that is ninety degrees,” he explained, sounding just a little uncertain. “But an acute triangle has three angles which are all less than ninety degrees.”

“That’s right, Cody!” I turned to the board on the wall and drew two examples. “Let’s see if you can go three-for-three. What’s an obtuse triangle?”

Cody frowned with concentration. I silently gave him a look of encouragement.

“One of the angles is greater than ninety degrees?” His voice rose up at the end, turning the statement into a question.

I snapped my fingers. “Bingo. You get a star added to your bonus booklet!”

He whispered, “Yes!” under his breath as I peeled a gold star off a sheet of stickers and placed it next to his name on the bonus booklet, which was a poster on the wall showing how many pieces of candy each student would receive at the end of the week. Some teachers rolled their eyes at using candy like this, but I found it to be a very effective motivator. I suspected that was the only reason a boy like Cody had even raised his hand.

Sometimes kids just needed a little nudge in the right direction.

The bell rang a few minutes later. “Okay, everyone! Line up for lunch. You know the order. Who goes first?”

“I do, Ms. Collins!” shouted Bella Helmuth.

“Inside voice, Bella,” I said gently. We lined up according to alphabetical order, but rotated who went first every week. Luckily for me, there were thirty-four students in my class, and thirty-six weeks of school, so this worked out perfectly. Since it was October, we had reached the H names in the line order.

I led them down the hall, around two corners, and into the cafeteria. After handing them off to one of the lunch monitors, I let out a sigh of relief and went back to my classroom to eat my lunch.

When I got there, I found a tall, broad-shouldered man with sun-kissed brown hair squinting at the bonus booklet. “Cody got a star this week?” Logan asked. “I thought you said he was one of the shy kids.”

“I know! He answered three questions about triangles today!”

“Pfft. I bet I know way more than Cody about triangles.”

I peeled a star off the sheet and placed it on his forehead. “Happy?”

“Jokes on you,” he said, pointing at his forehead. “I’m keeping it on all day.”

He grinned and kissed me. “What are you doing here?”

“Meeting the woman I love for lunch,” he replied.

“I hope you and this mystery woman have a good time,” I replied. “I have papers to grade.”

“Aw, come on. I drove five whole minutes to get here. Have lunch with me. The papers can wait until tonight.”

“Tonight?” I asked. “When we get home from the game?”

“Okay,” he admitted, “maybe tomorrow morning. I promise to wake up early and help you grade them? Pretty please?”

I picked up my lunch bag and led him out of the classroom—without my stack of papers to grade. “You’re a distraction.”

“That never got in the way in the past!”

The two of us laughed together as we ate lunch in the courtyard next to the Recess field. “Who are you rooting for tonight?” Logan eventually asked me.

“I just hope everyone has fun,” I replied.

Logan narrowed his eyes at me, pulling the answer from my lips.

“The Buccaneers have a chance to win their division!” I said, feeling guilty. “The Falcons are already out of contention.”

“That is the correct answer,” he replied. “But I’m still telling Roman you’re rooting against him.”

“No! Please don’t! You know how personal he takes it.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “I’m open to convincing.”

I glanced around and lowered my voice. “Are you blackmailing me for sexual favors?”

“You’re smart,” he said with a grin. “You should be a teacher.”

I leaned in and kissed him. “You always were jealous that Knox and I had sex in a classroom back at Westview.”

Logan glanced at his watch. “We have twenty minutes before the kids return from lunch.”

“What are we going to do with the other nineteen minutes after we have sex?” I teased.

Logan barked a laugh, and got a devilish look in his eyes like he was going to drag me back into my classroom. But then my phone chimed on the table.

“I liked it better when you only had a flip phone,” Logan muttered.

“Me too. But the school requires it.” I sighed at the notification on the screen. “I’ve got to go. Two of my students got into a fight at lunch. See you tonight?”

“For the blackmail favors,” Logan asked, “or the game?”

“Play your cards right,” I said, giving him a peck on the cheek, “and it just might be both.”

The rest of the work day was a pain thanks to the fight, which meant I had to contact both girls’ parents, and then schedule time to meet with them. Even though the fight had happened at lunch, they were still my kids.

My kids. Today, that phrase made me shiver. In a good way.

We still lived in the same house Knox had bought with his signing bonus five years ago, a massive three-story beach house right on the water. Knox’s car was gone; he was already in Tampa, I knew. Logan was home, tidying up the kitchen while listening to music with his headphones on, dancing around the kitchen island while wiping down the counters.

Roman lived in Atlanta during the season. It was tough at first, but we made it work. It meant the time we did spend together during the off-season was even more special. And I had my other two partners there to keep me busy most of the time.

Logan saw me and removed one headphone. “What uniform are you going to wear?”

“Neither,” I replied. “Although I see you’ve already donned your Maddox Buccaneers jersey.”

“Hell yeah,” Logan replied. “Roman knows where I stand. I was on the Bucs practice team for three years, after all.”

We finished some small chores around the house, then drove north to Tampa for the game. Knox’s parents were already waiting in our private suite, and frowned when they saw me.

“No jersey?” Darlene asked.

“She’s neutral,” Robert said with a smirk.

“I am neutral. Today, at least,” I added. “But between us… you know who I’m rooting for today.”

“The Bucs are contenders!” Robert exclaimed. “The Falcons are already out of it.”

I pointed at him and winked. “I’ll get us some drinks.”

When I reached the bar, I made sure the others weren’t looking before quietly ordering a gin and tonic, and a regular ginger ale in a glass with ice. I handed the former to Logan while slowly sipping on the latter, hoping nobody had noticed.

“Game’s starting,” Robert said. “If Roman hurts Knox…”

“He wouldn’t do that,” I replied. “At least, not intentionally.”

“Hmm,” Logan said.

Roman’s final year at Westview was his breakout season, setting several school records in sacks, fumbles recovered, and tackles. It was enough attention to get him drafted by the Falcons in the last round of the NFL draft, and from there he was able to work hard and secure a starting position on the team. He had gotten better every year, and although the Falcons team as a whole were doing poorly, Roman was the frontrunner to win the NFL’s Defensive Player of the Year award.

Right as I thought about that, he barreled through two Buccaneers players and threw his arms wide, tackling Knox to the ground.

Everyone in our suite sucked in a breath.

Knox got to his feet and stared down at Knox like a Gladiator who was ready to finish off an opponent. Then he extended a hand to help Knox up… but withdrew his hand at the last moment, causing Knox to fall back on his butt. It was all in good fun, though; Knox popped up to his feet and playfully shoved Roman, the two of them laughing at each other.

“Those two were college roommates,” the announcer on the suite TV was saying. “And Langford lives with Maddox in the off-season.”

“Just roommate shenanigans,” the other broadcaster said.

I smiled. Through their relationship with me, they were a lot more than roommates.

Suddenly, Darlene grabbed my arm and dragged me over to a private corner of the suite. “How long have you known?” she demanded, cornering me.

“I, um… huh?” I sputtered.

She aimed a finger at my face. “Don’t play dumb with me. I can keep a secret.”

I hadn’t wanted to tell anyone, but somehow she knew. I decided not to fight it and said, “Eight weeks.”

She squealed, covering her mouth with her palm in time to muffle the sound. “It’s about time!” she hissed at me, though she was all smiles. “Bob and I won’t be around forever, you know!”

“I’m waiting until the second trimester before telling anyone,” I whispered. Logan was still outside the suite watching the game with Robert. “Also… Darlene… there’s something you need to know. The father… I don’t know if it’s Knox, or…”

I didn’t know what to say. How did you tell a woman that you weren’t sure if her son was the father of your baby, or if it was one of his best friends?

“Nobody gives a shit about that!” she snapped. She rarely cursed, so her language took me aback. “We’re all supportive of your relationship, and knew this might be the case. I don’t care. I just want a grandchild in these arms while I’m still able to carry one!” She glanced to the side. “Logan doesn’t know?”

“No, and neither do the others,” I insisted. “I don’t want to jinx it, since it’s my first…”

“Jinx what?” Logan asked as he and Robert came back into the suite. Logan had a club sandwich in his hand.
“Bucs had to punt,” Robert muttered. “Bad start. If they lose this game…”

But Logan was staring at me intensely. “Jinx what, Sloane?”

A dozen excuses came to mind. None of them felt adequate. I had never been able to lie to Logan—unlike the others, he always seemed to see right through me.

“Logan,” I said, feeling Darlene’s eyes on me. “I’m… pregnant.”

I hadn’t said the words out loud yet. Suddenly it felt real, very real. A shiver went through me, and I took a deep breath and looked up at Logan.

“You… we…” He blinked rapidly. “I’m going to be a father?”

I nodded.

“OH HELL YEAH!” Logan said, losing his shit. “We’re having a baby!”

He spiked the sandwich on the floor like a football, then hugged me tightly. Then he let go and said, “Shit. Sorry. Did I hug you too hard?”

“I’m not fragile, Logan,” I said. “I’m eight weeks along. I haven’t told Roman or Knox yet.”

That news made him even more excited. He raised both fists in the air like he was celebrating a touchdown.

“I got to know first! I’m the best! I can’t wait to tell Knox and Roman. Can we go someplace fancy so I can rub it in their faces? They’re both NFL players. I never get to one-up them. Forget about that. Is it a boy? Or a girl? I don’t even care. I’d be happy either way. Darlene, did you hear that? I’m going to be a dad! Knox is going to be a dad, too! We need champagne. Shit, you can’t drink it. What’s in your glass, Sloane? Do you know you’re not supposed to drink?”

Robert put a hand on his back. “I think she knows, son.”

“Bob didn’t get this excited when he found out I was pregnant,” Darlene told me. “You’re lucky, Sloane. There is so much love in your family.”

I was lucky. And as I watched Logan pump his fist and kiss the male bartender on the cheek, I knew it, too.