10. Derek
Blondie
Good luck tonight, kick some Michigan ass!!!
Blondie
#ROARRSSSS #BIGBLUE #BIGORANGE
Sighing, I lean my head against my living room's leather couch and shut my eyes.
“This is the life…” I exhale, letting my body sink into the worn brown leather.
Last night we played against the Michigan Sabers, and the game was intense.
I spent about ten minutes in the ice bath immediately after the game, and now, after two days away from home, I’m finally back in Maryland.
It’s been ten days since I last saw Georgia, but we’ve texted daily since Vegas.
She’s sent videos of her and the dog, pictures of pieces she’s working on, and good-luck texts for my games and practices.
I’ve sent photos of Deli getting ready for school, as well as the different meals that I’ve cooked for her and the guys this past week.
It’s safe to say we’ve created a good rapport between the two of us, especially since we haven’t seen one another since leaving Sin City. Georgia’s been busy with classes and working on a new piece. I’ve been busy getting acclimated to the spring semester and the second half of the hockey season.
The chime of my front door alarm alerts me to my mother and daughter’s entrance to the house. Grinning softly, I pretend to be asleep as Delilah calls out to me from the front door.
“Papá, I’m home!” she yells at the top of her lungs as the sound of her little feet padding in the living room announces her arrival.
Delilah wastes zero time climbing onto the couch and plopping down on my lap.
“Papá?” she whispers, poking my cheek before her cold, nimble fingers lift one of my eyelids.
“RAHHH!!!” I screech, grabbing her up in my arms and tickling her.
The sounds of her giggles and soft calls of my name echo throughout the apartment as I laugh along, tickling my daughter. Delilah typically comes to every game that I have, but since the previous one was an away game in Michigan, I had to leave her with my mom.
My mother and I haven’t had a real conversation since I left Vegas. When I dropped off Delilah on Thursday night, our talk was as small as small talk could get. She texted an occasional update on my daughter, but other than that, it’s been radio silent between us.
“Mhm… I just find it funny how—”
Here we fucking go…
Exhaling deeply, I stop tickling Delilah. “Go play in your room while abuela1 and I talk, okay?”
She frowns and juts out her bottom lip, giving me the largest, most adorable puppy dog eyes.
I tilt my head at her and raise a brow. She’s not getting over on me that easily… not right now, at least.
Delilah sighs, rubbing her eyes. “Okay… but can we watch a movie when we eat dinner? Abuela doesn’t like ‘chow watch’ so we didn’t do it at her house.” She pouts, grabbing my hands with her tiny ones.
Leaning in close to her face, I break out in a grin. “That’s because it’s our thing, Sunshine… Now go, or else there will be zero ‘chow watch’ tonight.”
As if the floor was lava, Delilah hauls ass to the back of the apartment, where her bedroom is, leaving my mother and me alone in the living room.
“What’s wrong?” I prompt, resting my arms behind my head as my mother takes a seat next to me on the couch.
“You know what’s wrong, Esteban. Why couldn’t your so-called wife watch Delilah? Is she not a good person? What kind of woman doesn’t take care of her stepchild or at least cook for their family? There’s no food ready.” She frowns, her tone icy as she looks me dead in the eyes.
I’m at a loss for words, taking in everything my mother says.
Was she looking through the kitchen?
With an exasperated sigh, I run a hand over my face.
“For one, she’s been staying at her mother’s place, helping her mom move, so no… She couldn’t watch Deli. Plus, I cook our meals, so that’s on me. I haven’t been home, and neither has Georgia; there’s no need for us to leave food in the fridge,” I lie through my teeth as my mother frowns.
In all honesty, Georgia still lives in her off-campus apartment and hasn’t seen her mother since before she left for Vegas.
I haven’t had the time to go to the grocery store for Deli and me, and there’s barely a need to cook when I’m here since I spend more time at the guys’ off-campus house than my own place.
Mamá purses her lips and jumps to her feet. “I don’t believe you! A marriage is a joint commitment. Why should you do all the work? There are no photos of the two of you; I didn’t even know that you were dating, Derek!” she exclaims, gesturing around the room.
“Well, believe it because it’s true! Georgia’s my wife; we’ve been dating, and just because I don’t tell you everything doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. She lives here. There may not be photos of us strewn about in the living room, but she lives here…”
I should feel bad for lying to my mom, but the cockiness and overall malice in her tone have my hackles rising. Where does she get off saying that my wife doesn’t live with me?
It’s the truth, but what gave her the right?
She shakes her head slowly, her arms crossed over her chest as she purses her lips deeper.
“No, you know what… I expect to see you and your entire family at dinner next Sunday. Don’t be late.”
The words hang in the air as my mother snatches up her bag, turns on her heels, and stomps out the door.
Shit…
Running a hand through my hair, I open up my text thread with Georgia and groan. The most recent message in our thread is a photo of her with a red velvet cupcake in her hand, posing for the camera.
How am I supposed to tell her something like when she’s clearly happy right now?
Derek
I hate to say this when you look so happy but we have a bit of a situation on our hands…
Blondie
Oh? Do tell.
Welp… She told me to tell her.
Derek
My mother wants to see you at our next family dinner, she wants us to prove our marriage to her…
1 Abuela (Spanish) – Grandma