Blitzing Emily (42 page)

“Back to you, guys,” the female reporter said, and then to her: “Thanks, Emily. Catch you on the field after the game.”

The media hurried away, and Emily walked back into the suite.

The second half started with a vengeance. The Sharks would make a good run or get better field position, then the Minutemen’s defense would force a fumble, or Seattle couldn’t convert third down. The defense did their part. Damian picked off a pass and ran it into the end zone to score. The Minutemen’s quarterback spent a lot of time sitting on the turf as Brandon and his teammates sacked him repeatedly. The Sharks fans were doing their best to pump the team up, but as the minutes ticked on, hope was fading fast. Seattle was still down by six, and Emily folded her hands under her chin. They couldn’t get this far to lose the game.

Emily rubbed her fingers over her lips. Thirty seconds left on the clock. The Sharks were driving on their forty-five when disaster struck. The Minutemen’s cornerback intercepted a pass from Tom, the Sharks’ quarterback. She heard the cries of disbelief in the suite; she went cold inside. He continued to run, only to be shoved out of bounds by Tom. Tears blurred her eyes.

After listening to Brandon’s football tutorials, she knew what was going to happen. The Minutemen would line up for a play in what he called the “V” formation, protecting the ball at all costs. They would run out the thirty seconds left on the clock by snapping the ball from center twice. The game would be over, without any chance for the Sharks to recover the ball in time. The Sharks would lose, and Brandon had played his entire career to lose the biggest game of it.

All the Minutemen’s quarterback had to do was take a knee when the ball was snapped from center. The teams trotted back onto the field. Emily couldn’t see exactly what happened on the snap, but she saw what happened next. The ball bounced off the quarterback’s foot, and flew into the air. Time stood still as bodies crashed into each other, but the ball landed in a pair of hands wearing electric blue gloves.

Brandon tucked the ball into his arm, and took off for the end zone.

“Go!” Emily called out, jumping up and down. “Go, baby!”

The crowd was on its feet, cheering him on. The suite was a cacophony of shouting. All she could see was Brandon, and he was still running. He’d made it past the secondary, he was feet from the end zone, and she was still shouting, “Run!”

He couldn’t hear her over the noise of 100,000 people. Maybe he’d feel it. One of New England’s players threw himself toward Brandon. He grasped Brandon’s ankle, and Brandon stumbled. He took a few more steps. The guy hung on. It seemed like it took forever, but it was only seconds in reality. Brandon fell, but he landed in the end zone. The official held his arms straight up in the air—touchdown.

The crowd went wild. Emily put both palms on the windows of the suite. The noise from the stadium concussed against them like a cannon firing. As quickly as the noise started, though, it stopped.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” she heard John say.

Nobody moved. A flutter of yellow fabric hit the turf. Flag. The crowd was silent. All Emily could hear was the television commentators.

“Wait. Let’s see what it is. There’s no preliminary indication of a penalty, and there’ll be a booth review . . .”

John stood up from his seat, walked over to the phone, and punched in a few numbers. He listened intently to whoever was on the other end.

Brandon was on his feet. He still held the ball. The coach signaled for a time out; the defensive players clustered around him in a knot. Everyone waited. Emily buried her face in her hands. If the waiting was awful, this was worse. She had no idea what she would say to him if the penalty meant the score was disallowed.

“Here we go,” John called out. The official emerged from beneath the replay camera hood, and made his way onto the field. He switched on his microphone, and stuffed the flag back into the waistband of his pants.

“After a booth review, the clipping penalty against the Minutemen has been reversed. No penalty. Touchdown, Sharks.” He held both arms straight up in the air.

The crowd’s roar started slowly. It bounced off the windows of the suite. The suite was full of people who patted each other on the back and smiled, but the game wasn’t won yet. They all held their breath and waited for the same thing: the point after. If the kicker made the extra point, the Sharks would win the game.

The kicking team trotted out. Tom ran out on the field to hold the ball. Ryan the kicker lined himself up, took three steps to one side, two strides forward, and kicked. The ball rose. The noise rose as well. Emily’s heart was in her throat as she watched the ball soar perilously close to the crossbar. Time stood still while a football passed through thin air.

The ball headed toward the left column of the uprights. Ryan shook his head. Tom threw both arms into the air. At the last possible second, the ball made a slight correction, it soared through the uprights, hit the net, and Emily let out a cry. They won.

The final whistle blew. Confetti rained down on the spectators. Emily followed the people racing down the hallway to get to the underground tunnel, and onto the field. It took a few minutes, but the noise in the stadium was still deafening.

The players drenched the coach with the Gatorade bucket. The guys pulled him up onto their shoulders, threw new “Super Bowl Champions” hats into the crowd, and all she could hear was the roar of almost 100,000 people in the stands. There were hundreds of celebrating people around her, and the confetti was so thick it was hard to see.

The rolling stage was making its way across the turf. New England’s players headed back to their locker room after shaking hands and exchanging a few words with Sharks players. She looked for Brandon, but she couldn’t find him.

Damian emerged from the confetti. He picked Emily up, twirled her around, and said, “He went into the locker room for a few moments, love. He’ll be back for the trophy presentation.”

“Damian, you had such a great game. You got an interception!”

“Just another day’s work,” he teased.

“How’s your girlfriend?”

“She’s here somewhere. I’ll find her. I’ll see you soon.” He moved away.

In only moments, a stage was set up. A few stairs were pulled up in front of it, and microphones waited for the team owners, coaches, and captains. The Seattle fans were clustered in the stands nearby. Tom’s wife, Lauren, walked over to Emily. She was heavily pregnant, and she had another month to go.

“Emily, it’s so good to see you.”

Emily hugged her. “Tom was wonderful today.”

Lauren laid a hand on her belly. “I wish Justin could have seen it. We can make a DVD for him to watch when he’s older.”

On the stage, Shane Falcon and the FOX Sports announcers interrupted their conversation. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the victory celebration of Super Bowl Forty-Two. The Seattle Sharks defeated the New England Minutemen, 27-26, to win their very first Super Bowl championship. Let’s hear it for Seattle.” More deafening applause, and, to Emily’s amazement, Lauren put two fingers in her mouth and whistled.

“I taught Tom how to do it,” she explained.

“Maybe you could teach me, too.”

“Later,” Lauren assured her.

Shane continued. “The commissioner of the NFL would like to present the Lombardi Trophy to the owner of the Seattle Sharks. Commissioner?”

Emily resisted the impulse to shout, “Hurry up!”

Brandon and the other team captains were heading toward the stage. The owner’s speech was brief. He thanked everyone. He lifted the trophy. Brandon, Tom and Damian climbed onto the stage, and the place went wild. Tom was first.

“I’d like to thank my teammates. I knew this day would come. My bride is somewhere on the field. She’s having our son next month. This is for the two of them, because I can’t imagine this celebration without them. I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too,” Lauren shouted.

Tom handed the trophy to Brandon. Brandon scanned the crowd until he found Emily. He gestured for her to come to the stage, and she shook her head no. This was his day.

“Sugar, nothing’s happening till you’re up here with me,” he said, and held out his hand.

“Go, go,” Lauren urged.

Brandon was still beckoning her, and Emily finally moved through the crowd toward him. Harry McCord, former tight end of the Miami Kingfish, was speaking.

“Brandon, how does it feel to play the greatest game of your career? Three sacks. Nine tackles. An interception and a resulting touchdown. Amazing.”

The crowd cheered, and a grin spread across Brandon’s face.

“It’s about to get better,” Brandon said to Harry, and reached down to help Emily up the stairs. The look in his eyes made her knees weak.

Champagne dripped from his tangled curls. The eye black he wore at every game was smeared all over his cheeks. He was covered in sweat, mud, grass, and bloodstains. He’d pulled off the gloves he wore to play. Even with grimy tape covering it, his hand was big, warm, and comforting, as always.

“I couldn’t have done this without you,” he said to her. She heard his voice echoing around the stadium, and she shook her head again.

“No, baby. This was all you. I’m so proud of you.” She tried to smooth the hair off his face.

“I got you something.” He laid the trophy in Emily’s arms. It was surprisingly heavy. She pretended to examine it.

“Thank you. It’s really nice.”

The others assembled on the stage laughed. Emily glanced down to see that their families had materialized on the field only a few feet away. Her mom and Suzanne McKenna stood arm-in-arm. Behind them were Brandon’s dad, and Dylan. Amy held their dad’s hand. She couldn’t believe her agent David was there. He
hated
football.

“Baby, look, there’s your mom and dad,” she told him.

“Your folks are here, too.” The crowd was cheering again. Brandon waited until it was somewhat quiet, and said, “You gave up an opportunity you’ve been working toward most of your life to be here to watch me play. If I didn’t know you love me before this morning, I sure as hell know now.”

He dropped to one knee, looked into her eyes, and squeezed her hand again. She was so startled she blurted out, “Wh-what are you doing?”

His blue-green eyes danced. They were still the most exotic color Emily had ever seen, and she knew she’d never be tired of looking into them.

In the middle of a crowded stadium, with millions watching on live television, suddenly, it was only the two of them. Her heart was pounding. She tried to take a breath. Mostly, she had a feeling she knew what he was up to. She hoped she wasn’t wrong.

“Sugar, I love you with all my heart. I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me. Will you marry me?”

His eyes twinkled. His smile dazzled. He was at his most irresistible, and she could only guess at why, out of all the women in the world, he’d chosen her.

“Say
yes
!” someone sounding remarkably like Amy shouted, followed by laughter and applause. Tears filled Emily’s eyes. The amount of adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream left her jittery and trembling, but she’d never been so happy.

He waited patiently. It was the most private moment of their lives, and millions were witnessing it. If she was dreaming, she never wanted to wake up.

“McKenna, don’t you know you need a ring when you ask a woman to marry you?” Shane said, and pulled the huge Super Bowl ring off his own finger. He pressed it into her hand. “Here’s a loaner till the cheapskate buys you one.”

She pulled Brandon’s diamond ring from her jeans pocket. “I already have his ring.”

“Well?” someone behind her said. The smile played around Brandon’s mouth.

“Yes. Yes. I love you. Yes,” she gasped out.

The crowd went crazy. Brandon took the ring she held, slid it onto the third finger of her left hand, and then gathered her into his arms. The trophy? Well, Emily managed to hang onto it and Brandon at the same time. Brandon kissed her, she cried, and he said into her ear, “We’re still getting married February fifteenth.”

All she could do was nod.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She buried her face in his chest.

“Give Shane his ring back, sugar.” There was laughter all over the stadium at that comment.

“Goddamn it, McKenna,” they heard Damian say, “How do you expect me to follow that?”

Chapter Twenty-Six

E
MILY OPENED HER
eyes to sunshine streaming through Brandon’s bedroom windows. Anyone who’s ever lived in Seattle knows sunshine is a minor miracle, especially in February. All she wanted was a couple of hours more sleep. She was struggling with jet lag. They wouldn’t be sleeping in this morning, though. It was their wedding day.

Brandon and Emily had returned home from New York the day before. The Met, it seemed, was fairly willing to overlook the fact she walked out on a performance. The international publicity that came after Brandon’s proposal to the diva on live television caused an awful lot of people to buy tickets. The remaining performances of
La Boheme
sold out within twenty-four hours. Three days after the Super Bowl, Emily flounced onto the Metropolitan Opera’s stage as Musette. Both the Hamilton and McKenna families were in the audience. She’d achieved her goal. It was better than she ever dreamed.

Brandon kissed the back of her neck. “It’s time for the bride to wake up.”

She let out a groan. “Already?”

“I want to give you your gift before we have to leave for the church.”

Emily rolled over to face him, and twined her arms around his neck. “You already gave me my gift several times last night.”

“I sure did.” He looked pleased with himself, as he pulled her up and onto his chest. “Defensive ends are the real men of any football team, sugar.”

“We’ve got all kinds of time,” she coaxed. “We don’t have to get out of bed yet.”

“Your mom and Amy are supposed to be here in less than an hour.”

“I’ll call them,” Emily said. “They can’t have a wedding without us, can they?”