Page 123 of Gone With the Wine

They wait.

“I…uh, didn’t say that.”

They recoil like I just said I enjoy kicking kittens.

“You didn’t say that,” Miles repeats deliberately. “You didn’t tell her you love her?”

I move my head from side to side. “I…I’m not…I told her I don’t want her to leave.”

“Jesus Christ!” Miles’s shout attracts attention from other patrons in the bar.

“YOU DIDN’T TELL HER YOU LOVE HER?” Nolan yells. “What the fuck, man?”

I edge back on my stool, eyeing them warily. I toss back more tequila.

Nolan closes his eyes. “I don’t know if we can help you.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Bruh. You definitely do.” Miles shakes his head. “Okay. Telling someone you love them is a major relationship milestone.”

“Sure.”

“The fear of the other person not saying it back is real,” Nolan adds.

“If one person says it and the other doesn’t, it’s a moment of truth in the relationship,” Miles adds. “It shows your level of commitment to the relationship.”

I stare at him, my mind spinning. “I asked her to stay! That’s commitment! I thought she would know that.”

“Oh man.” Nolan claps a hand on my shoulder. “And you were married.”

“Were. What does that tell you?” Then I jerk back as a painful memory slams into me. “Holy shit.”

They give me expectant looks, waiting for more.

“I remember Stephanie—my ex-wife—said something to me.” I rub my forehead. “When we split up. She said…shit, I don’t remember exactly, but it was something like it was hard being married to me because I wouldn’t open up.”

“You toldheryou loved her, didn’t you?” Nolan narrows his eyes at me.

“Yeah, yeah. It was after I retired. I kind of spun out. Basically, I got depressed.” I chomp on my bottom lip. “She said she felt like I didn’t care enough to make an effort.”

“Fuuuuuck,” Nolan breathes. “And you just did it again. With Bianca.”

I did. I fucking did.

I shove a hand into my hair. “Look, it’s not easy talking about some things. My parents always told me to suck it up. Get back out there. Don’t be a weenie.”

“Is that hockey culture?” Miles asks.

“Who are you guys?” I stare at them. My hockey buddies are good friends, but not amateur therapists like these two.

“We know stuff.” Nolan waves a hand. “Okay, tough guy, here’s the thing. Talking about your feelings doesn’t make you weak.”

Is that what I believe?

“Huh. That’s good, man,” Miles says.

“Ana told me that.” Nolan makes a face. “But it’s true. Right?”

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