Invisible String

34

It had been a long, chaotic stretch of life lately—drama, emotions, too many late-night conversations, and even more late-night feedings. But somehow, things had started to settle. The texts from Karlie had stopped. Austin was doing better. The girls were healthy. And even though work was a constant, I was trying my best to balance it all without losing my mind.

It was early November and getting colder by the day, that crisp bite in the air making everything feel like the holiday season was creeping in early. I had a million deadlines looming—songwriting sessions, edits, voice memos full of half-sung melodies—but I’d been keeping myself planted in the house, writing in sweatpants with a baby monitor on my lap and a toddler drawing on my ankles with washable markers. Not glamorous, but it was honest.

Today, though, was different. Today, we were leaving the house as a family.

It was a home game, and we were all going to Arrowhead to watch Daddy play football. Mira had on her tiny little Chiefs beanie—too big but so cute—and a red onesie that said “Daddy’s #1 Fan” across her belly. Lily had insisted on wearing her jersey with Kelce across the back, layered over a tutu because, “football but make it fashion.” I didn’t even argue.

And, to my surprise, Jason and Kylie managed to make it too.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in years,” Kylie said as we met at the stadium gate, juggling diaper bags and sippy cups like pros. She leaned in for a hug around Mira’s carrier, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold.

“I know, right?” I smiled, adjusting Lily’s scarf. “You look amazing.”

“You’re a liar,” she laughed, rubbing her belly. “I look like a walking carb.”

Jason was already grabbing hot chocolates for the girls while trying to hold all four of their daughters’ tiny mittens and coats. “Tay, please tell me you brought snacks. I’m already outnumbered.”

“Do you know me?” I teased. “I brought a cooler bag.”

Once we got to our seats, the energy was electric. Lily kept waving her foam finger in every direction—including Mira’s face—so I had to gently redirect it about ten times. Mira, in her carrier strapped to my front, kept reaching out to try and grab the giant red pompoms one of the cheerleaders was shaking nearby. She squealed every time the crowd roared, and I swear her eyes sparkled like she somehow knew her dad was down there on the field, commanding the chaos.

Kylie leaned over. “This is kinda magical, huh?”

I nodded, arms wrapped around Mira’s middle as I held her close. “Yeah. I needed today.”

She smiled, bumping her shoulder gently into mine. “We all did.”

And when Travis caught my eye from the field—just before the game started, helmet in hand, scanning the stands until he found us—I saw his face soften, even for just a second.

His whole family there.

Cheering him on.

In that moment, everything felt right again.

The second I saw our suite flash up on the JumboTron, my stomach dropped a little. Not in fear, just… nerves. It was different now—being a mom, trying to guard their privacy while still living this big, messy, very public life.

Lily was too busy dancing with her foam finger to notice the attention, and Mira was dozing peacefully in my arms, completely unbothered by the fact that tens of thousands of people had just seen her squishy little face on a screen the size of a building.

I could hear the crowd cheer faintly through the glass, and then the stadium announcer’s voice echoed:
“Let’s give a warm Kansas City welcome to Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce’s girls in the house today!”