Big Shot | ✓

bonus 03 | dashing through the snow

Having grown up in a New York suburb, I relished snow days. My sisters and I would wake up early and sit huddled on the couch in the living room, waiting for our school's name to crawl across the bottom of the screen, indicating it was closed due to the weather.

When I moved south and my blood thinned out, I learned to hate the cold. The irony wasn't lost on me that now I found myself sitting on my couch in my condo in Hoboken, watching the weather channel as we prepped for inclement weather. It was the end of November now, and it seemed Mother Nature had just realized that, deciding to thrash us with the first winter storm of the year.

Reid, however, being the true southern gentleman that he is, has never seen snow in his entire life, and the prospect of playing a professional football game in the snow might have been more exciting than Christmas and his birthday combined.

Peyton sat curled up in my lap, his head (which grew every night, I swear) lifted just enough to watch his dad pace slowly in front of us.

"So Delaney's been telling me all week that the most important thing for me is to get a feel for the ball. Every snow game is different, and the ball could either be like butter or a ton of bricks."

Delaney - as in, Dalton Delaney, Reid's superstar wide receiver and decided work husband - had not only played for the Jets for all nine years of his career so far, but was from suburban New Jersey, and hadn't flocked south for college like I had. In fact, he went further north to Syracuse, no doubt to keep his cold heart from thawing out.

I snorted. "That's his expert advice? Is he also going to tell you to make sure to put your jacket on when you come off the field? Stay hydrated?"

I wasn't Dalton Delaney's biggest fan, but I would never tell Reid that. A quarterback and his main target needed to have chemistry, or the results were disastrous - not just on the field, but in the locker room and on sports gossip blogs (which were all just amplified in a market like New York). Plus, guys with alliteration names were just predisposed to being douchebags, and I couldn't knock him for something that was out of his control.

Of course, me being me and Reid being Reid, I was sure he had an inkling, which was probably why he chose to ignore my little jab. When Reid dropped onto the couch next to me, Peyton hobbled over my legs and tried to climb up Reid like a tree. With a little assistance from Reid, Peyton made it to Reid's shoulders and draped his body across the back of Reid's neck.

"You shouldn't let him get used to that," I said with a grin. "Because when he's 200 pounds and still wants to climb on you, he's gonna break your back."

"He's just a baby," Reid cooed as he reached up and took Peyton off his shoulders, placing him delicately on his chest. After a little huff, Peyton nuzzled up into the cook of Reid's neck and eased his eyes shut. Reid just had a way of making those he loved more comfortable than they'd ever been.

It felt like a lot of time had passed since the draft, and graduation, and moving in with Reid, but every time I looked at him - and I mean, really looked at him - my heart still threatened to explode all the same. His hair was getting long again (because when you made playoff runs, it was a sin to cut your hair), and the tips of his ears would get endearingly red as he got used to the cold weather.

It was as if every time I looked at him, I was seeing how beautiful he was for the first time, but really I guess that's just what loving someone was.

"What?"

Reid had finally noticed my lingering gaze, and he tilted his head just slightly, so he didn't disturb the puppy.

"I just love you. That's all." I gave him a soft smile. It also felt like a lot of time had passed since I was too afraid to tell him that. Now, it came as easily to me as breathing did.