Infinity. (Infinity Series) (2 page)

After some heartfelt tears and reasoning with Colin, he got the message. Colin rented office space about half a mile from our home. It’s in a professional building. He has his own office and private bathroom. There’s a conference room for meetings and, most importantly, there’s enough wall space to hang Colin’s football memorabilia, as well as a super-deep storage closet. We’re both much happier.

“Caroline, you forgot to bring Colin’s champagne,” Jenny says in her brusque manner.

“No I didn’t. It must still be in Brad’s car.”

Then, like the ninja that Jenny is, she whips out her smart phone and expertly hits Brad’s number, which is saved in her favorites list. “Bring up Colin’s champagne.” One sentence only, and she doesn’t wait for his response. Brad and I will have a field day making fun of her the next time we’re alone.

Chelsea and Liza are on the balcony drinking what look to be mimosas. Checking my watch—which matches Colin’s—I note that it’s 10:30. I guess my girls are starting early.

The parade is supposed to pass by our hotel in fifteen minutes. I rush over to my bag and grab the camera that Colin bought me for Christmas and quickly snap a picture of Marley playing dolls. Colin will get a kick out of it. Then I point my lens at Chelsea, Liza, and Janis (who now has a drink in her hand) and yell for them to cheers while I take a couple of shots. Even Jenny plays along, flashing me a forced grin, when I aim my camera at her. Her hair is a lovely shade of Dallas Cowboy’s blue right now. It’s fabulous.

Next, I catch Brad as he walks into the hotel room, holding two bottles of sparkling cider. Brad’s embraced the glasses trend, and is sporting a rather attractive pair of fake lenses. He stops when he sees my camera and strikes a male model pose straight out of a high-end fashion magazine.

Then, he grabs my camera and turns it on me. I throw my arms up in the air in a very silly dance move. He snaps away while I make funny faces.

When he realizes I’m still in my street clothes, he cocks an eyebrow and drops his chin to his chest as he hands me back my camera. “Do you plan on staying in faded jeans and a sweater?” He checks his watch. “You know the festivities are about to begin.”

“Nope. I’m just about to change. You know me. I like making you sweat,” I reply with a wink. He rolls his eyes and mutters that I’ll be the death of him.

My camera goes back into its protective case, and I place it carefully in the tote that I brought with me. As I’m slipping into the hotel’s bathroom Chelsea yells, “Let me know if you need some help.”

Brad quickly admonishes Chelsea. “That’s my job, sister friend.”

I close the door to block out their bickering. Brad’s truly become the brother that we all missed out on. He’s the best kind of brother, though. One day we’ll be lucky enough to get a brother-in-law instead of a sister-in-law that will just have to fit in with the Collins’ ladies.

I unzip the dress bag and stare at the garment inside. How did I let Brad talk me into this? It’s really hideous. All I want to do is stay in my comfy jeans, but Brad convinced me that Colin would love it. Sometimes, I need to trust my gut instincts instead of listening to my flamboyantly gay assistant.

I slip off my rose-colored wool sweater and faded jeans, and then haphazardly stuff them in my black tote bag. Next, I remove my chocolate-brown Ugg boots that have been my uniform for the last couple of months and replace them with my cowboy boots. They’re literally Cowboy boots. Some famous boot designer made them just for me. The tops are Dallas Cowboy blue with a white star, and Colin’s football number—eight—displayed artistically. The bottoms are cinnamon-brown leather. It was a very kind gesture, but they’re just not my style. Brad pointed out that this is the perfect occasion for me to wear them. He’s right, as usual.

Finally, I slide the dress on over my head and shimmy it down, making sure that my backside is covered. There are women that would kill for this dress. Unfortunately, I’m not one of them. Turning to look in the full-length mirror, I roll my eyes. I’m the picture of a fangirl.

I can almost hear out loud the music that’s playing in my head. Wonk… wonk… wonk…

Cautiously, I make my way towards the balcony where everyone has congregated—even Marley. She spots me first. “Ohhhhhh Auntie Charlie. You look silly.” Out of the mouths of babes…

Then, the rest of the girls and Brad turn around and inspect me. “It could be worse,” Liza offers. My stylist friend, Liza, created this work of art for me.

I spin around on my boot heels and head back towards the bathroom. “I’m changing,” I announce to the group.

Lots of “no’s” and “don’t do it” and “you look great” fill the air.

Then, I hear Jenny’s voice above the rest, “Colin will love it.”

That stops me. For some reason, hearing Jenny’s opinion means more to me than the rest of the gangs’. Sometimes her constant honesty is refreshing.

I turn back around and step out on the balcony.
I’m doing this for Colin.
I’m doing this for Colin.
Janis pulls me into a sideways hug. “I have to say, Caroline, that this is one bet that I’m sure you don’t mind losing.”

She’s right. Colin told me once that he’d walk through fire for me. Apparently, I love him enough to wear Dallas Cowboy boots and his jersey made into a dress on one of the most important days of his life.

The streets of Downtown are packed with people. I mean, packed like sardines in a can. It’s been about thirty-six hours since Colin and the boys brought the Vince Lombardi Trophy home to Dallas, and the metroplex is buzzing with excitement. I’m sure that some of these people are still drunk from Sunday.

Chelsea chimes in, “Can you believe the mayor declared today a holiday?”

Jenny adds, “I’ve heard they’re expecting over a million people to either watch the parade on TV or line the streets. It’s not like any work has gotten done in the last couple of days anyway.”

The parade will pass under our balcony and end at a ginormous stage that’s been set up near our hotel. Some famous local bands will play music. Then the team owner, head coach, Colin, and a few of the other players will address the crowd.

Because Big Bertha has become the unofficial mascot for the team, Colin will be riding in the bed of the truck, showing off his MVP trophy. Some poor police officer has been tasked to drive her. Colin worried last night that she might break down, which is a very legitimate concern. He seems to be the only one that the old girl will start for these days. We laughed about her stalling in the middle of the parade, and him having to jump out of the bed of the truck to lay his magic hands on her. He reassured me that the two of them would have a nice chat on the way into town this morning. As a precaution, his mechanic will be riding shotgun.

Colin winning the Super Bowl was the culmination of his Hall of Fame career. I was thrilled that I could be there and share the moment with him. Realizing my own goals has been such a sense of personal accomplishment. Having the opportunity to watch the man that I’m madly in love with make his dream come true had been one of the greatest moments of my life.

Liza leans over and pretend-whispers, “The dress wouldn’t look nearly as bad if you didn’t have that gigantic belly in the way.”

I look down at my stomach. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my feet without leaning over. I tease her back. “I don’t think that it has anything to do with my stomach, and everything to do with the dress designer.”

She gently pushes me and laughs. “You look good. I stand by my statement. You’re simply a snake that swallowed a basketball.”

Janis chimes in and agrees. “I gained almost seventy-five pounds with Marley. Beached whales were cuter than me. And trust me, I let Clay know every single day just how miserable I was.” She laughs at the memory. “You look awesome, Caroline.”

“Auntie Charlie, I think you should name the baby Marley. It’s the perfect name for a boy or a girl.” She’s beaming.

“Well, sweet pea, we’re going to have to discuss that with Uncle Colin. He still wants Bertha for a girl and Bert for a boy,” I tease. Colin and I are not finding out the sex of our baby, which has led to many spirited arguments over names. As of right now, we aren’t even in the same baby-naming book, let alone agreed on anything.

“She’s naming the baby Brad if it’s a boy, and Brandy if it’s a girl. Everyone knows this.” Brad offers his two cents with his know-it-all wink and a raised champagne glass.

Then out of nowhere, Jenny says, “Fuck off, Brad. If it’s a boy, it can be Brad. If it’s a girl, it’s Jennifer.” Jenny cares about the baby’s name? That’s a new one. Colin’s assistant is full of surprises.

“Geez, Jenny,” I reprimand. “Not in front of Marley.” Fortunately, Clay has a mouth that makes sailors blush, so it’s nothing that she hasn’t heard before. But still, I don’t want Jenny teaching my child dirty words. That’s, at the very least, her daddy’s job.

“Argue later, kids. We’ve still got at least two weeks before he or she is here.” I laugh at my crew. If you’d have told me a couple of years ago that Liza, who was angry I wasn’t Sasha the first time I met her, Janis, who only knew that I broke Colin’s heart, Chelsea, the most selfish self-centered person in the universe, Brad my overly gay assistant, and Jenny, who’s a hornet’s nest would be my support system and the ones that I chose to share in this moment with Colin and I, I would’ve said you were mental. Yet, here we are. One big dysfunctional family.

Brad goes inside to find a chair for me so I can sit down. I’m still performing surgeries which requires I stand for sometimes up to five hours straight, but it’s become very obvious in the last couple of days that I’m going to have to take leave. I can feel my feet swelling in these boots. I say a silent prayer in hope that I can get them off after Colin has seen me.

I glance down the row of balconies on the front of the hotel and see a lot of people that I know. Colin invited the players’ wives, girlfriends, and families to watch the parade from our hotel rooms. Colin’s parents are on the balcony next to us with a group of their friends from Colin’s hometown. I catch his mom’s eye and wave. I’m still not her favorite person.

She hated Colin and I living together, but there was much more to it, I’ve since found out. Susan blames me for Colin’s first marriage, and the disaster that it was. If she only knew about the prescription pills and overdose. Not even her first grandchild would get me back in her good graces.

Colin’s dad is much friendlier, and smiles. I walk over to the edge of the balcony and lean across the railing to give him a hug.

“How’s my grandkid?”

“Growing and moving like his daddy,” I reply with a smile as I stroke my hand over my taut stomach.

“It’s got to be boy. Colin was so active. Susan would have to push him back to remind him to be gentle,” John says, getting a little glassy-eyed as he reminisces about his only child.

As if on cue, Baby McKinney gives me a firm kick to the ribs. I wince, and rub my side. Then, I feel a tightness spreading across my abdomen—one of the many Braxton Hicks contractions that have plagued me for the last month. I almost didn’t make it to Miami for the Super Bowl. I thought these were labor contractions, and spent a night in the hospital before I was assured that everything was fine and sent home.

Poor Colin was beside himself. He was already in Miami doing all the pregame press. I wouldn’t let him fly home until we knew if this was indeed show time. Brad was my rock, holding my hand and keeping Colin updated. Fortunately, Doctor Starr got on the phone with Colin and explained that Braxton Hicks contractions are nature’s way of preparing the body for labor, and I was perfectly fine. Just to be on the safe side, she chose me an obstetrician in Miami and forwarded him a copy of my medical file.

Colin rented me a private plane to travel to Miami so I could stay lying down, and so our family could travel together. Between my overzealous assistant, who’s also an RN, and Colin’s mother, I thought that I might toss them or myself out of it. She kept telling me about her pregnancy with Colin, and Brad tried to time contractions that weren’t really contractions. I love them both—dearly, but I wanted to scream
Have you all forgotten that I’m a doctor?

On the other balcony to my left is Colin’s management team. After Colin fired Mark, he hired Aiden to be his business attorney and manager. So far, it’s worked out well, with Colin just using Mark on a case-by-case basis, like the whole walking out of the ESPY-Awards fiasco. We haven’t needed a full-time public relations person because Jenny can reply, “Mr. McKinney and Doctor Collins do not comment on their private life” just fine. Colin has gone so far as to refuse to confirm the pregnancy, or that we’re even married. After many discussions and bamboozlement—according to Colin—he finally agreed that me keeping my maiden name in the professional world was a great idea. Okay. Maybe not a great idea, but it was an idea that we could both live with.

One reporter asked him after a game how I was feeling. His reply was, “I don’t comment on my private life.” The reporter pushed on and said, “I saw your wife. She looks ready to pop.” What was Colin’s answer? “I’m sure Doctor Collins will be amused to know that the media thinks that she looks fat in her pants.” I felt sorry for the reporter. Even though I was about seven months and clearly looked pregnant, the guy had a horrified expression on his face.

Aiden’s balcony is filled with other clients that his firm represents, and some junior attorneys. Mark notices me and gives me a slight wave.

Rachael is off doing what Rachael does best; becoming the ruler of the known world. My best friend is a piece of work who’s only gotten more awesome as the years have gone by.

Aiden motions for me to come over so I walk to the other end of our balcony. “How ya doin’?”

I smile. “I’m hanging in there. I just wish the kid would quit kicking me, and these damn contractions would stop.”

Aiden’s eyes grow wide with worry. “I’m okay. They’re just pretend contractions, but damn they hurt.” I smile reassuringly at him trying to communicate that I am okay.