I’ve told her and clearly not happy about it. “Matthew Thomas McKenzie,” she whispers, squeezing her hands together.
“I know, it hurts. Trust me, it hurts. But it is what it is. Life isn’t a Hallmark movie, you know?”
She whips her head around so fast that the soft gray curls on her head bounce around. “Actually, I think you’re just being a…well…a big, fat pussy.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or run out the door, and I’m left staring at my sweet, elderly grandmother with my jaw on the floor, totally speechless.
“My boy. How did I raise you? What did I always tell you, over and over again, is the single most important thing in life? Come on, what was it now?”
I sigh and hold my palm to my forehead, knowing the answer without hesitation, but also knowing that, while she means well, my grandma doesn’t understand the complexity of this whole thing.
“I know, Gram. Love. I remember. But this isn’t that easy. It’s a really confusing—”
“Love, Matthew.” She scoots all the way forward in the cushy recliner, her little white slippers inching toward me as she reaches for my hands and grabs them both tightly. “Love is the most important thing.” She looks right into my eyes, her vibrant gaze as bright as I always remember. “Do you love her?”
Such a simple question that somehow brings an absolute tornado of thoughts and emotions whirling through me. I shut my eyes and think about Ellie…all the amazing, happy, sexy, beautiful things about Ellie that I’ve been forcing myself to try to forget for the past few days.
Before I have time to think about it for another second, I open my eyes, and my answer slips out. “Yes.”
A smile slides across Gram’s face. “And you’re gonna let some rich, entitled douche tell you that you can’t be with the woman you love? Who is also carrying your baby?”
“Pussy and douche in one night. You should get in trouble or something,” I tease, trying to delay or derail or somehow get out of this conversation.
She eyes me, obviously having none of my bullshit. “My sweet Matthew, that isn’t you.” She pinches the bridge of her nose.
“Things change, though. These are my professional football dreams at stake. Everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve done to get us out of poverty and give you the life you deserve. I can’t lose it all.”
She waves a bony hand through the air and makes a tsk sound with her mouth. “Money. Pah! Fame, wealth, status…none of that is as important as love, Matthew. Love is all that really matters. That was what we always believed in our home.”
It’s true. My mind flashes with images of our old run-down house in Eastwood. There was nothing impressive about it, but I was always happy to come home.
“Grandma, it’s just…” I groan and hate the way this is only making everything worse. I hate the sinking feeling in my gut and the stings of guilt and regret and uncertainty. “You don’t get it.”
“No, my dear boy.” She stands up and wags a finger at me. “You don’t get it.” She walks toward the kitchen area, shuffling in her slippers.
I slump back onto the couch and squeeze my eyes shut, wishing all of this could just disappear, that Ellie Vice and I had never even met.
Twenty-seven
Ellie
I’m officially done with Matt McKenzie. Whatever he said to Paul Richardson at the gym last week, whatever he was too freaking scared to say to me, whatever changed his mind about me and us and everything else…I’m done with it all.
It stings like hell, but I have to move on. I have a baby and a family and a job to focus all of my attention on.
Moving on and forgetting about him would be a considerably easier task if I didn’t have to spend today on the sidelines in Miami Gardens, watching him lead his team in the Super Bowl.
Yeah. Not an ideal situation.
But of course, the Vices own the team, and it’s absolutely critical, as my father put it, that we all show up with bells on today.
Well, jingle effing jingle.
“Ten minutes to game time,” a male voice calls out, and my gut twists.
Ever since my dad told me that Matt is apparently out, I’ve been consumed with a tornado of sadness and anger and hurt. None of it makes sense. But then again, none of it has ever made sense.
Maybe it is all for the best.
“Ellie, honey.” My mom wraps an arm tightly