Page 116 of I'm Your Guy
“Thank you, ma’am.” He glances at me with amused eyes.
“No family photo?” she asks, scrolling.
“Afraid not. We don’t want our daughter’s face in the media.”
“Ah,” she says with a sigh. “That makes sense. I hope she likes peanutbutter cookies.”
“She likes everything that resembles a cookie. Thank you for these.” He rises from the sofa, taking his tin with him. “I’d better get back.”
“So nice to meet you,” my mother says, rising. “Congratulations on your engagement.”
“Thank you. It means a lot.” He carries his empty mug to the kitchen and then shows himself out.
My mother pounces practically the moment the door closes. “Tommaso! You didn’t tell me your teammate was a gay man.”
“Bisexual,” I clarify.
She just stares at me. “That’s quite a development.”
“Uh-huh,” I say.
She waits for me to say more.
I don’t.
She sighs. “I’m going to this game, yes? Tomorrow?”
“Of course. You’re in row C.”
“And who’s sitting next to me?” She puts her hands on her hips.
“That’s a good question.” I pick up the tickets that Newgate brought over and open them up. They’re also in Row C, across the aisle. “I need to make a call or two. These are for a couple of friends of Carter’s. But I don’t have their number.”
“Carter,” she repeats with a gleam in her eye. “Now wouldn’t it make sense to offer him your extra ticket? Why should he stay home when he could watch a hockey game with his friends. And with me?”
Well, fuck. My mind spins as I try to think of a way out of this pickle. I quail at the thought of my mother bending Carter’s ear for three hours tomorrow night.
On the other hand, I’ll take any excuse to see Carter. If he’s not already in Montana. “Let me track these guys down,” I say reluctantly. “We don’t even know if they’re all free.”
“They might be,” she says smugly. “Why don’t you find out?”
FORTY
Carter
The drive from Denver to Briarton, Montana takes eleven hours. My big plan had been to do it all on Christmas Day and surprise my mom.
I’d downloaded a long audio book. I’d packed the car. I’d hugged Rigo and Buck goodbye.
But I’d only made it as far as Cheyenne, Wyoming, before my car ground to a halt. Literally ground, I’m afraid. The noise it made as the engine died will haunt my dreams.
So I’m spending Christmas at the Motel 6, a short walk from the Subaru dealership parking lot, where the tow truck driver has left me. I’d had to pay him the Christmas rate, too, for dragging him out of his house on a holiday.
Then I spend the evening mentally redecorating my motel room. The industrial carpeting has to go. Along with the popcorn ceiling. And don’t even get me started on these lampshades.
As it happens, I’m naked and mentally redesigning the shower when Tommaso calls me. So I can’t answer.
It’s just as well. I’m not a strong man, so I would have answered that call. And if he’d asked me where I was, I’d be obligated to tell him the truth. Then he’d feel sorry for me.
