Mavs, Magic, and Happily Ever After

Like all great modern romances, ours began on Hinge. Scott, determined not to come off as a walking sports cliché, left the Mavericks off his profile completely. Kendall, of course, found out anyway—and within a few messages she was rattling off defensive strategies for how to guard Luka on the pick-and-roll. At that point, Scott was hooked. Our first date was at The Fifth in Richardson. Scott, who was certain it was basically next door to Grapevine, spent the long drive wondering if he’d made a mistake. Ten minutes into the date, though, he knew the only mistake would be not asking Kendall out again. Despite her reservations, he did exactly that the very next weekend, and pretty soon we were inseparable. From there, everything seemed to fall into place. Meeting Kendall’s friends felt like joining her fan club, meeting her family proved she really was as good as she seemed, and then she met Scott’s kids—who almost immediately decided they liked her better than him. Since then, life together has been part fairy tale, part sitcom. We’ve traded books (Kendall somehow tricked Scott into loving memoirs, though she’s still dodging his comics and sci-fi suggestions), laughed through comedy shows, taken road trips to old movie sets, walked beaches, wandered the Museum of Illusions, and braved “grown-up” book fairs. We’ve eaten our weight in breakfast tacos, cheered at Mavs and Rangers games, grieved over Mavs and Rangers losses, and survived the collective trauma of losing Luka. Game nights with friends usually end in laughter and suspicion—especially when One Night Werewolf turns good humans into ruthless liars. Somewhere between telescopes under Texas skies and the ordinary Tuesdays that turn into something extraordinary, we found exactly what we were both hoping for: a life that’s equal parts laughter, love, and the best kind of magic.