Page 71 of Sleepless Nights and Hockey Fights

“Nothing. I just...I don’t know. I didn’t really realize it was going to be a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, you know. A relationship.” When I don’t respond, he takes that as permission to continue. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just thought...because he’s so much...younger...” he trails off.

“How old is Luke?”

“Forty-three. Why?”

“Well, since we’re making a thing out of the age of my significant other, I figured I should know Luke’s too.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. You’ve got to acknowledge the age gap is a little worrying, though, right? When I was that age, I felt like I was still a kid in a lot of ways.”

“We were pregnant with Matty at his age. Hardly kids.”

“Don’t you remember how clueless we were?”

“Every first-time parent is clueless, Blake.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I just don’t want you—or Matty—getting attached and then ending up hurt. That’s all. I love you guys and don’t like seeing either one of you in pain. Matty talks about Bobbyallthe time. Maybe taking things a little slower would be better where he’s concerned? Just in case?”

Shit.

“Blake, I know this is coming from a place of love, and I’ll really give the Matty thing some thought. But Bobby and I are doing great—just like you and Luke and Posey, I’m assuming.”

“Luke is gonna kick my ass when he hears about this conversation.”

“Take your dog inside and go back to bed, Blake. We’ll talk later.”

I hang up and stand from my chair, phone gripped tightly in my hand as I start to pace the laminate wood flooring. It’s still pitch black outside, and the wind whips the end of a tree branch against a nearby window, causing a shrieking sound. I need to trim that thing before I start having nightmares about vampires or Freddy Krueger.

Blake's words play back in my mind.Matty talks about Bobby all the time. I’m sure it’s not easy as Matty’s dad to hear him going on about another adult male figure. Maybe that’s where it came from? Or is he right? Am I setting Matty up for heartbreak by diving into this relationship with a twenty-eight-year-old man and just assuming things will work out? If I let myself stop and be my usual practical self, I can admit the odds are not in my favor.

Guys get hotter and more virile in their thirties and even forties, as unfair as that is. When Bobby is thirty-eight, I’ll be fifty. He’ll be Captain America and I’ll be Driving Miss Daisy.

Nope. I can’t think about this or the next thing you know, I’ll be spooning Ben and Jerry’s into my face while tearfully examining every wrinkle and gray hair in the mega-magnification makeup mirror I pretend I don’t own.

I consider texting Ramona to see if she’s awake and able to talk me off this ledge. But I’m not up to date on her current schedule since I’ve been around less than usual. Shit. Am I being a bad friendanda bad mother?

No. Ramona is thrilled for me. In fact, she said just the other day that she’s living vicariously through me since, as she put it, I’m in my “honeymoon phase” with Bobby and haven’t reached her and Amir’s era of scheduling sex dates on their calendars so they don’t forget to bang.

Blake and I never did that. We just stopped having sex altogether—understandably, in hindsight. I guess I’ve never actually been in a normal sexual relationship as an adult. Bobby and I have a sex life so active it’s downright exhausting at times, but Ramona has a point. It can’t always be this way. And then what happens when the attraction goes from rampant lust to more of a slow burn? Bobby does not strike me as a slow-burn kind of guy.

I lift my phone and scroll to my text thread with Bobby, rereading the last message he sent last night.

Bobby: I’ll see you at Matthew’s game tomorrow. Call me when you get up. I like hearing your voice to start my day.

The tightness in my shoulders melts and I smile down at the phone. What am I doing getting all worked up about some random comments? Maybe I need to have my head examined. Or maybe I just need a good night’s sleep.

“Honestly, I consider it a win that nobody cried,” Coach Chloe says as we stand rinkside while the kids all head to thelocker rooms. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you what a great kid Matthew is. He’s been so much fun to coach.”

“Thank you. I’m so glad.”

“Nikolai says we should try him at goalie, but I said I’d mention it to you before I let him talk to Matthew. I figured you might have visions of teeth scattering to the ice like Chiclets.” She cocks her head. “Do they even make those anymore?”

“I don’t think so, but I’m sure none of these kids would have heard of them anyway.”

Chloe shrugs. “And . . . now I want gum.”

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