Page 79 of Off Court Fix

“I saidno.”

“You can’t say no. You asked to borrow my boat again,” Dave reminds me. “And you said yes already.”

He’s right. I did ask to borrow the boat again so I could repeat Maxine’s and my earlier adventure at sea. Only this time, I’ll be a little smarter about discretion when we depart and return to the docks. I told Maxine last week when I dropped her off that what we have is enough, and it is. But I’m learning too much of a good thing isn’t just wonderful—it can turn you into a greedy son of a bitch too.

And after the day we spent with my mother last week, which felt oddly intimate given the circumstances, I’m finding myself growing more frustrated with the status quo, especially because Maxine has been playing in tournaments all over the place and I haven’t seen her in well over a week. There’s nothing wrong with quiet, safe evenings in her home or mine. But there was something about the day we spent on the boat that brought out a playfulness in our relationship, something light and easy—I want to give her more of that, more of me, ofus.

But Dave has got the second part wrong.

Groaning, I shake my head. “Dave, I agreed to go with youlast summer, and as hard as you tried to manifest the date, itneverhappened.”

I look at the clock and grow more annoyed that I’ve wasted so much time arguing with my best friend over why I won’t go on a double date with a woman he’s been pining after for far too long and her sister. I’m far too old for double anything, and so is Dave, but he refuses to accept reality.

“Alright, well, she rescheduled.” He pauses. “Theyrescheduled.”

“For a year later?”

Dave waves his hand. “You agreed.”

“Yeah, not to an open-ended rain check.”

“It’s just dinner—”

“Not a chance.”

“Come on, Cros. Short dinner. They’re not local. You’ll never have to see either of them again. She’s perfect for you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t know her.”

Dave holds up his arms and shrugs. “I know she’s passing through. Isn’t that your type?”

Fighting to keep the frown inward, I shake my head. The several decades-long passing-through stretch has come to an end, ironically so since it began when I was looking for just that, one time, one night, no second—or third—helpings.

Only it’s with the one woman I can’t have. And when Icanhave her, in secret, it’s here and there.

And even though the joke is on me, I’m still not interested.

“Take one of your lackeys,” I tell Dave, referring to his employees.

Dave groans. “This isn’t a pair of sorority sisters. I need a mature wingman, not a guy who puts things on autopilot because he’s stoned.”

I stare. “You hired them.”

“Not to be my wingman,” Dave clarifies. “And if you come tonight, you can take the boat whenever you want, no questions asked. Just give me tonight.”

“I’m seeing someone.”

I won’t lie—the words feel good to say out loud. My body instantly relaxes, as if I’ve begun to slowly chip away the weight I carry of this secretive relationship. And why can’t I tell someone withouttellingthem?

Dave blinks strongly, as if he doesn’t understand.

Clearing my throat, I repeat myself. “I’m seeing someone,” I enunciate carefully so he doesn’t miss anything.

“You’re full of shit.”

“I’m not.”

“Who?”

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