The Perfect Life (42 page)

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Authors: Erin Noelle

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BOOK: The Perfect Life
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My husband nodded and thanked him, and then once they were all gone and it was just me and him inside, Colin coiled his arms around my shoulders and crushed me up against his body, making me forget about the scarf. “Oh, baby girl,” he whispered into my hair. “I love you so much, and I’m so sorry for everything. There’s no excuse for the way I’ve taken you for granted or how selfish I’ve been in this relationship, but I want you to know I plan on making up for it, and I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”

Leaning back slightly, but still holding onto my arms, his glassy eyes met mine and he treated me to one of his most endearing, boyish grins. “I don’t know how I got so lucky that day in Algebra to end up sitting next to you, but I want you to know not another day will go by that I don’t thank my lucky stars for having you in my life. I can’t even pretend to understand how this entire disaster has affected you, and I’m sorry I wasn’t more focused on you yesterday, but I’m gonna do my best to make it all better now.”

Confused about what he meant exactly, I opened my mouth to ask, but he placed a quick kiss to my forehead, grabbed my hand, and dragged me to the front door before I could get a word out. As he opened the door, the bright sun reflected against the fresh layer of powdered snow on the ground, momentarily blinding me as I shuffled my feet outside. Keeping my gaze downward, I focused on where our fingers intertwined, praying for the strength to get through the next half-hour.

I had no idea what Colin was planning on saying, but I assumed it was going to be along the lines of asking for privacy while our family worked through this difficult situation. It wouldn’t stop the speculative reports, but it would get rid of most of those who’d been camped outside overnight. And then we could figure out our next step. I didn’t have a whole lot of time to process his heartfelt apology at the door before being thrust into the spotlight, other than it gave me a brief glimpse of the Colin I always knew and loved.

Leading me over to the podium Barry had mentioned, Colin squeezed my hand when we stopped just behind the Patriot’s PR Director and waited for him to say his part. I didn’t look up at him. I couldn’t. Not yet. I didn’t want them to see me.

A minute or so later, he tugged on my arm, alerting me it was time to move again. I scuffled forward with him until there we were front-and-center, the focal point of a sea of people. All who had seen me naked.

Colin stepped up to the microphone to make his statement, releasing my hand in the process, and nausea rolled threw me. Closing my eyes, I inhaled a deep breath through my nose, counted to five, and blew it out. Then, I heard Colin’s voice. And I focused on his words.

“I have to be honest with you guys. Doing something like this is even harder than it looks,” he began with a light chuckle, nervously fidgeting with his collar as he flashed a charming smile toward the crowd. “Last night, I stayed up late working on what I was going to say today, writing and rewriting draft after draft, not happy with how any of them sounded. So I decided, against the strong recommendation of my public relations director,” he tossed a sly smirk over at Barry, “to come out here and speak from my heart, without a script. I’m gonna ask you to bear with me if I ramble a little.”

He paused to take a drink of water from the bottle sitting on the podium before continuing. “You know, sometimes life throws you a curve ball that completely blindsides you and knocks you on your butt, and when it happens, you think the effects are going to be devastating. Earth-shattering. That you’ll never recover. Everything you’ve worked so hard for vanishes . . . all of it just gone in the blink of an eye. That’s how I felt when I woke up yesterday morning. It was as if I’d just been run over by an eighteen-wheeler, who then stopped, put the rig in reverse, and plowed over me again. I thought all hope was lost, and I had no idea what I was going to do.

“But what I didn’t realize at the time was that curveball was part of God’s plan for me. He knew I needed to get knocked down, to remind me not only to be appreciative of the things I have, but also that He was in control and not me. Now, I know I’ve always been very open about my faith and my spirituality, and when I mention God’s name, I take the risk of losing some of you because you think, ‘Oh man, here he goes again with that stuff,’ but stay with me until I finish this time. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Glancing over at me, he winked then turned back to the microphone. I had no idea what he was doing, or what he was getting at, and I wasn’t brave enough to make eye-contact with any of the reporters to see if they appeared to be equally confused.

“So after everything happened yesterday and I was back at home, I found myself with quite a bit of time alone to do some much-needed soul-searching and to really evaluate what my purpose was in this life. Through reading scripture and extensive prayer, I came to realize I wasn’t anything like the person who I pretend to be, the person you guys see when I’m out on the field or volunteering at the neighborhood soup kitchen. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying that playing football isn’t my passion or that I don’t find immense joy helping others in need, because I do, and they’re both a huge part of who I am. But just like every single one of you, when I come home each day, the minute I step through that door and inside my house,” he pointed behind him, “I’m free to just be me, without anyone watching what I’m doing or passing judgement . . . or so I had fooled myself into believing.”

The smile on his face faded as he narrowed his brow. A chill ran down my spine.

“You see, what I lost sight of somewhere along the way is I believe the only one whose judgement ultimately matters is God’s, and He can see me all the time. There’s no hiding from Him. The person I am behind closed doors is just as much a part of my character as the football player and the volunteer is, and if my peers choose to judge me for who I am and what I believe, then that’s on them and not me. All I can do is try each and every day to be the best Christian I can be, and when my time comes, hope that I did enough to pass His judgement.”

He stopped and took a deep breath, priming himself for whatever he was about to say. My own body stiffened in preparation for the blow.

“Last night, after I made the realization that I’ve been so caught up in what other people think about me and the pretense of this perfect life I live, I also realized that while doing this, I’ve been hurting and taking advantage of the people I love the most. And that’s not who I want to be.” Shaking his head with disappointment, he sighed softly.

“So now you’re all probably wondering how any of this ties into leaked intimate photos of my wife with another man, and I’ll tell you.” He looked over at me and smiled my favorite smile, then pulled me next to him. “Monroe Cassidy is my closest friend in the entire world and I love her more than she will ever know, but what no one else knows until now is that we are husband and wife in name alone . . . because I’m gay.”

I gasped as my hands flew to my face and tears instantly started spilling down my cheeks.
He did it. Oh, my God, he really did it.

When tapping the microphone in an attempt to get the attention of the frantic media didn’t work, Colin raised his hand in the air, and surprisingly, everyone quieted down.

“I understand there are many questions you all have, but as Mr. Maxwell indicated at the beginning of the press conference, we will not be answering any today. However, there are a few more things I’d like to address before I wrap this up and leave you all to have a field day seeing who can come up with the wittiest headline for my coming out speech,” he joked lightheartedly.

“First, please take down and stop running all of the photos of Monroe and the man who she loves dearly, out of respect for their privacy and because they were taken illegally. Also, if you or your publication were one of those who called into question the working environment that Mending Hearts harbors, the not-for-profit they both dedicate their lives to, I’m requesting that you print a retraction. Mending Hearts is highly dependent on donations and sponsorships, and without these houses, many of the abused children who live there will be forced back into the system. And finally, with Super Bowl coming up in less than two weeks, it is my hope that during that time I can focus my attention on preparing to defeat a tough Seattle team and bringing a championship back to the city of Boston. Once that has passed, a Q&A-style press conference will be set up, probably at the team’s facility, in which I will further expound on the details of my private life and how I view my sexuality in the context of my spiritual beliefs. But until then, I’d appreciate if we can keep the questions centered around football and the upcoming game.”

Barry approached the podium and nodded his head at Colin, giving him the signal that he would take over from there. Pivoting on his heel, Colin grabbed my hand and tugged gently, leading me in the direction of our house. I stumbled over my own feet, still too in shock to move, but quickly recovered without falling. As soon as we walked inside, he picked me up, cradling me in his arms, and spun us around the living room with a gigantic smile plastered on his face.

“What are you doing?” I squealed, looking up at him in bewilderment. “And what in the world did you just do? Your parents are going to kill you.”

“I told the truth, so I could set you free, Roe,” he replied as he lowered me to the ground, cupping my face in his gigantic hands and kissing both of my cheeks. “It was something I should’ve done a long time ago so we both can live and love without hiding. And don’t worry about my parents. I called them last night and told them what I was going to do. I still need to have a long sit-down with them, but all in due time. They ensured me last night they love me unconditionally, no matter what they thought about the decisions I make in my life.”

“And Seth? Did he know you were gonna do that?”

Colin shook his head and looked down at the floor sheepishly. “No. I know I’ve put him through a lot over the years, and I’m not sure if it’s gonna be too little too late or if he’ll be interested in trying again. For real this time.”

My heart overflowed with joy and hope for the two of them. I had faith they’d find their way back to each other.

“Hey, aren’t you gonna call Oliver to make sure he was watching?” he asked, giving me a curious look. “I figured that’d be the first thing you wanted to do when you got inside.”

Nodding, I lifted up on my tiptoes and kissed the dimple on his chin. “I’m about to go do that, but I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you and how much I love you. Just because we’re not married or don’t live together doesn’t mean I won’t be here for you.”

He grinned. “To the very end?”

“To the very end.”

As I bounced up the stairs to my bedroom, eager to call Oliver and find out how quickly he could get to me or I could get to him, I heard the front door open and shut, followed by a chorus of voices I assumed to be Barry, Allison, and possibly Seth. Even though I wanted to talk to all of them about what happened, Oliver was my first priority.

Slipping into my room, I grabbed my phone off my dresser, hurriedly found his name in my contacts, and connected the call. I paced the floor next to my bed as it rang and rang, but it eventually went to his voicemail. Irritated, I waited about thirty seconds then tried again. Same result.

How was he not waiting on my call? He knew the first thing I’d do once the press conference was over would be to call him, especially with what it meant for the two of us. But he still didn’t answer.

Nearly ten minutes and twelve unanswered calls later, I was on the brink of tears. I didn’t understand why he wasn’t picking up, and with each passing minute he didn’t call back, a pocket of self-doubt began to form inside of me.

A knock on the door startled me, and though I didn’t want to be rude, I needed a few more minutes alone. “I’ll be downstairs in just a little bit,” I called out, hoping whoever it was would take the hint.

I picked up my phone to try him one last time before giving up for a while, but before I made the call, the person knocked again.

“Just a minute! I’m on a phone call and I’ll be out shortly!” I yelled as I pressed Oliver’s name on the screen with my shaky finger.

This time, when I heard the phone ring, it sounded like an echo effect. Like it was ringing inside my phone and outside of my door at the same time.

Confused, I rushed over to the door and threw it open, not knowing exactly what—or who—I expected to be there. But when my eyes landed on Oliver and all that dark, messy hair that I loved to pull, standing there holding a brown grocery sack, I gaped at him incredulously.

“What . . . how . . . when did you get here?” I finally managed to get one of my questions out.

His mouth curled up in a wicked grin. “I never left, Rizzo. I just couldn’t, not when I knew you might need me,” he replied.

“B-but you said you were at your parents,” I contended.

“I know, and I’m sorry I lied.” His smile disappeared. “I promise you right now that I won’t ever do it again. I felt like such crap afterward, even though I knew I was doing it for you.”

“So how did you know to be here? And what’s in the bag?”

“Colin called me last night and told me what he was going to do today so he asked me to be here for you,” he answered matter-of-factly. “If you’ll invite me in, I’ll be happy to let you look inside, and if you’re lucky, I might even let you kiss me too.”

Laughing, I shook my head, still in utter disbelief he was there, and motioned for him to come inside my room where he sat down on my bed and waited for me. I hopped up on the mattress next to him, giddy to the point of ridiculousness, and began to go through what he brought.

“Peanut Butter Captain Crunch,” I announced as I removed the orange box from the sack then continued to do the same for the rest of the stuff. “Chocolate milk. Popcorn.
Grease
DVD. And what’s this?” I questioned, pulling a shiny metal key out of the very bottom and holding it up between us.

His amber eyes sparkled when I peered over at him expectantly. “It’s a key.”

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