I remember watching the televised draft with my dad in our den a few years after Wes and I broke up. I tried to avoid all things football in the years following our breakup, but I couldn’t not know if he was really going to make it to the big leagues. Some desperate, hidden part of me had to know.
When the announcer called his name and the team that had selected him, silent tears streamed down my cheeks. He looked happy, so f*****g happy. A smile every bit as wide as the ones I used to be responsible for overtook his face. He made it. All the sacrifices and years of hard work paid off. All of his dreams came true while I had been home nursing a broken heart and an empty womb.
But something about the expression on his face now as he gazes down on me tells me that he’s reevaluating if it’s
