Page 54 of Going for Two

Nolan gave me another strange look as I began pushing him toward one of the last open self-checkout registers before my father could reach us.

“Are you okay?”

I pasted a wide smile on my face as we pushed the cart up to the register to start scanning. “I’m great! So excited for this meal, that’s all.”

My father filed into the first checkout on the other side of the area we were in. I could see him over the shelves separating us. Memories of slammed doors, disappointed nights, and broken promises. I had always thought that the first time I saw him, I’d be brave enough to go up to him and give him a piece of my mind for how he had treated me and Olivia. But here I was,cowering and too afraid to even make eye contact. It had been nearly ten years, but he still had a grasp on my life that I hadn’t realized.

“Ready?” Nolan asked once the receipt printed.

I nodded and took over pushing the cart back out to his car, wanting to put as much distance between myself and that man as possible.

Today was supposed to be a day for me, full of things that I loved, and he had no place in it.

“This is my favorite meal,” Nolan told me as he stood in my kitchen with my only apron wrapped around his body, “Kiss the Chef” stamped across the front. It was a gift from Olivia last year that she laughed at for hours when I cooked Christmas dinner in it.

Nolan had walked me through the first steps of his buffalo chicken flatbread recipe that he swore by on lazy nights. The two of us worked together, Nolan leading while I completed the tasks that he gave me. He made me prepare most of the meal, so he was confident I knew how to do it.

“Now just sprinkle the cheese on and then drizzle some of the buffalo hot sauce on top of that.” Nolan had guided me through the entire recipe with a steady, patient voice that made me feel calm and gave me the space to work without feeling like I was being judged. I could easily see how he would be a fantastic coach in the future.

“You’re good at this,” I told him.

Nolan opened the oven for me so I could slip the flatbread inside. “Cooking? I think I owe that to my mother. She wanted to make sure that my future wife never felt like that would be solely her job.”

I laughed at the thought of a young Nolan working alongside his mother in the kitchen growing up, helping her prepare dinners and sparking his future love for cooking.

“Teaching,” I explained.

Nolan lifted a shoulder, as if to say it wasn’t a big deal.

“Not many people have that skill, Nolan, and some may be able to do it, but not everyone can do it well.”

He grew silent as if he were thinking deeply. I wanted him to realize that he was great at many things besides throwing a football down a field and that he would be successful for many years to come.

“I’ve never had someone outside of my parents celebrate me in the same way that you do,” Nolan told me as he slowly untied the apron he was wearing.

“No one?” I asked, thinking about how none of his past girlfriends had supported him.

Luckily Nolan saw where my train of thought was heading. “My ex-fiancée never actually cared about anything I was interested in if it didn’t benefit her in some way.”

Nolan’s comments from our first run came back to the forefront—his ex was an ex for a reason, and I was sad that he had been with someone who wasn’t his biggest supporter.

“Do you remember when I told you that I’d been distracted the week I got hurt two years ago?” I nodded.

“Rachel and I had been fighting that week. She had started to move her stuff out. It took up most of my time that week and I had barely stepped foot in the practice facility outside of practices before that game. The injury was the final straw in our relationship.” Nolan had balled the apron up in his hands as he recalled the moments leading up to the day that had weighed the heaviest on his mind this season.

I reached over to squeeze Nolan’s arm as I tried to bring his attention away from his own thoughts. I wanted to show him that he was moving forward and clearly in a better place now. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that.”

Nolan gave me a sad smile. “Thanks.”

“Do you want a glass of wine?” I asked to fill the lingering silence.

“Sure,” Nolan agreed.

The silence stretched on as I poured two glasses of wine.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked as I slid his glass over to him.

Nolan traced his finger around the bottom of the glass for a few moments before he finally spoke. “I’ve had the best day with you.”