Chapter 2 #2
I stared at the message. That offer had been open for a while, ever since Mason started kindergarten.
Adult conversations, a real office, and a salary that didn’t fluctuate actually sounded nice.
Still, that would come with less flexibility, less time with my boys.
Not to mention, Mateo would take it as me not having confidence in his career, as if stepping back into my happy place would mean I didn’t believe in him having a breakthrough.
Me:
Let’s grab coffee and discuss next week.
I replied noncommittal as ever. I rolled my shoulders and got back to work ticking off the things on my list. My phone alarm sounded, reminding me it was time to pick Mason up from school. I put the computer to sleep and grabbed my purse. At the door, I slipped into my flats.
I weaved through the familiar route through Columbus traffic. As traffic slowed to a crawl, I went through my to-do list in my mind. I switched the radio to music when they started discussing basketball trades. I didn’t want to hear any speculation about Mateo’s team before he told me himself.
At the elementary school, I spotted a space and slid in before another parent could claim it, earning a glare from a mother in a Benz. I flashed her my best PR smile—pleasant but unapologetic.
The dismissal line moved fast, and I spotted Mason with his backpack. His face lit up when he saw me. A teacher helped him into the back seat and strapped him in.
“Thank you,” I said.
“No problem. See you tomorrow, Mason.” The teacher closed my door, and I continued moving with the traffic.
“Mommy, I got a gold star today.”
“No way!”
“Un huh. Mrs. Elise says I’m advanced.”
“Yes, you are. How did show and tell go?”
“My teacher said Daddy’s jersey is cool because he’s a professional player. Jalen said his dad plays too but at the YMCA, so that doesn’t count.”
I turned my head and chuckled. “That isn’t nice, Mason.”
“I didn’t tell him that. I just thought it.”
“Okay, that’s good.”
“What should I make for dinner?”
“Spaghetti.” Mason’s go-to answer.
“How about the chicken Daddy likes since we had pasta yesterday?”
“Okay, but can you make extra sauce?”
I pulled into a space in our complex. I let Mason out of the car, and he raced to our front door. Inside, he dumped his backpack, a habit I was trying to break, and he ran to his room to play.
A while later, I heard the front door open when I was transferring the chicken to a serving platter. Mason confirmed what I suspected—Mateo was home.
“Hey, little man.” Mateo’s voice carried across the room.
“Perfect timing,” I said as he approached.
“Let me take a quick shower. Smells good!”
I set the table and poured drinks. I handed a basket of rolls to Mason.
“Be careful. They’re hot.”
The table was set when Mateo returned showered and dressed in fresh basketball shorts and a t-shirt. He slid into a chair and immediately reached for his glass of water.
“How was practice?” I asked while fixing Mason a plate.
“Good.”
So much for a conversation. I waited for the elaboration that never came.
“You mentioned the coach wanted to talk.”
Mateo never made eye contact as he spooned food onto his plate.
“Nothing major. Team stuff.”
I sipped my water, looking at my husband over the rim of the glass. There was always tension when the conversation turned toward his career.
“I got a call from Lanette today with an offer for that senior position,” I said, testing the water.
Mateo paused with the fork halfway to his mouth. “Are you thinking about it?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m considering it.”
His eyes finally met mine. “I thought you were cool with the freelance setup since it gives you flexibility with Mason?”
“I am, but now that Mason is in school full time…”
“Mommy helps fix people who say bad things,” Mason interjected with a mouth full of food.
A smile tugged at Mateo’s mouth—a genuine smile directed at me. “Yeah, she’s good at it.”
The compliment affected me because praise from my husband had become rare these days.
“Coach said I should start in tonight’s game, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Mateo, that’s amazing!”
“Don’t make a big deal yet. It’s only one game.”
“Can I come watch?” Mason asked.
“It’s a school night, but you can come for a weekend game,” Mateo said gently.
“Promise?” Mason held his fist out for Mateo to bump and seal the deal.
“The babysitter will be here soon. Let me clear these dishes,” I commented.
Mason ran off to his room, and Mateo helped clear the table.
“I didn’t want to say much in front of Mason, but DeAndre was injured in practice this morning. It was pretty bad.”
“Oh my goodness.” I gasped.
“Not only that, but Coach said scouts might be at the game.”
“As in NBA scouts?” I questioned.
Mateo nodded. “This could be my shot, Dani.”
His using my nickname caught me off guard. He hadn’t used it in months. “Wow, that could change everything.”
“Right, so hold off on that job… at least for now.”
There it was, the real reason for him using the affectionate nickname. He didn’t want me to change the narrative of what he was trying to build.
“I was only keeping my options open,” I responded coolly.
“Is it too much for me to ask to keep them open a little longer?”
I could have pushed back and reminded him I’d kept my options open too long. Instead, I loaded the dishwasher.
“I gotta get back and get warmed up. See you there?” he asked.
“Yeah. Congratulations, babe. You earned it!”