Chapter 11 #2
Mom patted my arm. “Don’t be embarrassed, sweetie. All the boys on your Pop Warner team had the same mullet. It’s okay.”
I reached for my glass of wine, wishing I had grabbed something stronger from the bar before I sat down.
I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Can we please talk about something else?”
My sister glanced at me for a minute. Something flashed across her face.
I probably didn’t want to know. Callie was a hopeless romantic.
She loved people. She liked making people happy.
She believed there was someone on this planet for everyone.
I looked away, not wanting her to get any ideas in her head.
I tried focusing on my dad again. On the fundraiser. Anything other than the woman sitting next to me, making herself at home with my family without even trying.
Dad was saying something about the auction.
My mom was nodding along, and Callie was angled toward Becca, talking animatedly with her hands.
I was suddenly pulled back to how our bodies were pressed against each other on the dance floor.
The way her hands rested lightly on my shoulders, like she wasn’t sure where to put them.
For a split second, I thought about kissing her.
And that had me wondering again if I had misread things and whatever connection I thought we had was in my head.
I was usually good at reading women; that’s why I was confused, because I was almost positive she wanted to kiss me too, which didn’t add up because she was seeing someone.
A guy named Tom Tucker, who was a detective, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
The servers came over and set our food on the table. I noticed Mom’s wine was running low.
“Mom, I’m going to grab a drink from the bar before the line gets too long. Do you want me to grab you another chardonnay?”
“Yes, please.”
I nodded and stood. “Anyone else need anything?”
Callie pushed her chair back. “I’ll go with you.”
The bar was crowded, but the bartender saw me approach and immediately took my drink order.
Callie turned to face me. “Are you okay? You seem a little distracted tonight.”
Sometimes I forgot how observant my sister could be.
“I’m good. Just taking it all in and nervous about my speech.”
She gave me a look that said she didn’t believe me and glanced back toward the table. “Becca is really nice.”
“She is, and it still feels weird saying that because we didn’t always get along.”
“Really?”
I nodded and picked up my glass, thinking about the countless interviews I would brace myself for whenever I would walk into the room and spot her. All the assumptions I made.
“She has a habit of challenging me at press conferences. She wasn’t always easy to be around.” I swirled the ice in my glass. “I always thought she was uptight, at least professionally.”
She leaned her elbow on the bar. “Maybe she’s just serious about her job.”
I rolled the glass between my palms. “She is.”
“You should ask her out.”
I rolled my eyes. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“She has a boyfriend.”
She made a sour face. “Oh, that’s a bummer.”
I exhaled. “It’s fine. You know how I feel about reporters.”
“Well, if not her, then someone else.”
“Callie, I like being single.”
“But you don’t have to be.”
I took a sip of my drink. “I’m not in a rush to meet anyone. I have enough going on anyway.”
My life was already jam-packed as it was.
I had a demanding schedule. My life ran on routines that left little room for anything else.
I had practice, games, travel, and obligations.
Even during the off-season, when things slowed down, my brain didn’t.
It wasn’t that I was opposed to a relationship.
I also wasn’t in a rush to find one either.
I enjoyed being single—mostly. It was safe and uncomplicated, with no risk of disappointment. After my last relationship, I wasn’t sure I wanted one. At least not now.
As if Callie could read my mind, she asked, “Are you sure this isn’t about Lydia?”
I rolled my shoulders, wishing I could forget about her altogether. “Positive.”
I didn’t want her to think I was stuck in the past. I’ve moved on in all the ways that mattered. The breakup was ugly. So, I was taking my time and living life day to day.
But if I did want a girlfriend, hypothetically speaking, Becca would be exactly the kind of girl I’d go for.
She was smart, funny, and apparently very good with my family. She challenged me but made me laugh too.
Too bad she had a boyfriend.
She nudged my arm. “I’m not trying to pry. I’m just worried about you.”
“I’m fine, trust me. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“I’m your sister. It’s my job to worry about you. I just want you to be happy. If not with Becca, then with someone else.”
I shook my head. “You worry too much.”
“I just want you to be open to the idea. Don’t close yourself off because it’s easier and safer that way.”
She thought I was settling, and maybe I was missing out on something, but I wasn’t in a hurry to hand someone the power to wreck me again. I was going at my own pace.
I nodded. “Just because I enjoy being single doesn’t mean I will be forever. I’m waiting for the right person to come along.”
My eyes drifted back over to the table. I wish Becca weren’t a reporter. I wish she didn’t have a boyfriend. I wish timing weren’t so fucking cruel. But wishing didn’t change a damn thing.