Page 45 of The Love Playbook

“Eat.” I motion toward it, and she sighs and stabs a bite of eggs.

“Did you talk to your father this week?” she asks a moment later around a bite of waffle.

Closing my eyes, I run a hand over my face. “Not really, no.” When I open them, her lips press into a thin line, and I can tell she’s trying not to cry. “Mom, you have to let this thing with him go. Him getting married doesn’t need to affect you like this. You have your own life to worry about now. You’ve been divorced for five years now. Maybe Dad getting married is a good thing.”

Her head whips up, her dark eyes thunderous as she says, “Agoodthing? I’m devastated!”

I swallow, biting back a growl. “It’s closure. Time to move on for good, and you were doing really well when I left for school. It’s time you focus onyouand stop living in the past.”

“You don’t understand.” She shakes her head, her chin wobbling as she picks at her food.

No, Mom, I don’t. I don’t fucking understand why you’re so damn sad all the time when you had everything you could ever want right in front of you.

She acts like this is a product of my father leaving, rather than the catalyst. But I remember what it was like when they were together. Growing up, she wasn’t as bad, but she’d have these depressive episodes where she’d do nothing but lie on the couch all day in her robe and house slippers. Days where she barely said two words to me. Missed recitals and playdates and sporting events. Mom lost a lot to depression, and no matterhow good a child I was or how helpful I was around the house, it never made a difference.

And Dad tried. Maybe he wasn’t perfect, and maybe he left in the end, and I still resent him for that, but I remember how hard he tried to snap her out of her depression. It wasn’t until the last couple years of their marriage that he started to get angry, that the pleading and cajoling for her to join us and find something to be happy about turned into shouting matches, arguments, and tears.

Mom had a normal childhood, albeit she was never close to her parents, and so I never really knew my grandparents, but they weren’t abusive or absent. She didn’t lose anyone close to her. I always got the sense she wanted more children, but to my knowledge, she never miscarried; it just didn’t happen for her, whether because of my father or because it couldn’t, I don’t know. And maybe that’s the reason she’s so damn depressed all the time. Maybe I was never enough, but I’m tired of helping her carry this load.

“It doesn’t matter if I understand or not,” I say. “This is life, Mom, and you can’t just sit around, watching it pass you by because it’s going to catch up to you. I can’t be here every second of every day, and Carol is moving to Florida as soon as her house sells. So, you need to get it together.”

“I’m just so sad all the time,” she says, her voice thick.

“I know.” My heart squeezes even while my head rages. Part of me wants to reach out and throttle her. To shake some sense into her and open her eyes because she has me. I’m still here, and she could have whatever life she wants, if only she’d justtry.

Rising from the table, I find her cell phone on the counter and hand it to her, resigned to the fact there’s only so much I can do, especially if she won’t help herself.

“Please,” I say, pressing the phone into her hands. “I have to go, but before I do, call work and leave a message if they’re not there. Tell them you’ll be in tomorrow morning.”

Chapter 10

CHRIS

The next hour passes slowly with my curiosity eating away at me. What was so urgent she needed to run home on a weeknight? And why was she so adamant I wait in the car?

I know she said I could leave, that she’d be at least an hour, but I have nowhere to go and no desire to abandon her without a car in case she needs me.

Since I have nothing better to do while I wait, I open the digital files coach sent us to review for this weekend’s game and start studying the new plays, but I find myself mindlessly staring at my screen, unable to focus.

Finally, I give up and recline my car seat, opening the text thread with the guys instead.

ME:

I’ve already started working on implementing the Love Playbook. In fact, Lettie and I are on a date as we speak.

JACE:

Is she handcuffed or hog-tied in your trunk?

ATLAS:

Kidnapping doesn’t count, bro.

ME:

Haha motherfuckers. No. If you must know, she asked me for a ride, and being the gentleman that I am, I obliged. Afterward, I’m taking her to dinner.

She just doesn’t know it yet.

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