Page 23 of Delay of Game
Too late to backtrack, I barreled in. “Gracie is her middle name. Astrid is her first name.”
Mom’s face scrunched up. “Really?”
“Why would I make that up?”
“I like Gracie better.”
“Gracie is the name of a kindergartener.” I scooped up a pair of shorts wedged between the table and the wall.
“So, Astrid…” A grin bloomed on Mom’s face. The type of grin that made me regret opening my mouth. “You call her Astrid?”
“I didn’t like Gracie.”
“Hm,” Mom hummed under her breath.
“Nothing’s happening, and you can get that idea out of your head.” My shoulders tensed, and I slid them back down with an exhale. “Seriously. She’s barely twenty-five. Besides, I have a kid, and I’m on the road half the year.”
“As a professional football player. Don’t act like that’s not attractive to some women, Rob.”
I was all too aware of how attractive my profession was to some women. Women who liked an idealized version ofmy life that included first-class plane tickets, Michelin-starred restaurants, and five-star hotels. Women who wanted late nights at club openings and weekend jaunts into the city or to a private island. And some of my teammates were willing to give them just that.
But I wasn’t some young buck straight out of college. I had years in the NFL. I had injuries. I had a kid. My diet and exercise regime required strict diligence. During the season, I aimed for macros over taste. I got my eight hours of sleep and spent more time in the weight room than with my own kid.
“And I have to focus on Mila. I can barely manage what’s on my plate. I’m not adding another person to that equation.”
Mom tutted, shaking her head. “How about a friend?”
“I have Noa.” I invoked my best and only friend like a cloak. Sure, he was also my teammate, but where the hell would I meet anyone I didn’t work with? “That’s plenty of friends.”
“Noa has a newborn.” She sighed. “You remember what that was like?”
How could I forget? The late nights, the crying, the lack of sleep, the endless Internet searches convincing me I was the worst parent ever and had no business raising a kid.
“A kid doesn’t make him less of a friend.”
“A kid certainly makes him less available as a friend. And besides, I’m not sure Astrid,” Mom elongated the name, her eyebrows lifting, “has many friends. She’s spent a lot of time taking care of Mercy these last few years. I bet she could use someone.”
“Haven’t we had this conversation? Besides, I’m a shit friend. Ask Noa. You don’t want that for Mila’s teacher. Better yet, you two seem to have a hobby in common. You be her new friend.”
“I’m too old to be her friend,” Mom said, like she hadn’t been hiking over the weekend and had drinks with friends twice that week.
“So am I,” I argued.
“You’re not too old. You’re too stubborn.” Mom tilted her head back and released a huff. “I’m asking you to do me a favor. She’s in that big old house all by herself, trying to get it ready to sell.”
“Does she need a friend or a maintenance worker?”
“Both, probably. Teachers don’t make much, and if you’re helping with home repairs, you don’t need to talk that much.”
“So, I can get you off my back if I cross some shit off her to-do list?”
“I’d love if you could just extend a branch of friendship to the girl and help her out a little. It’d be a nice thing to do.”
I eyed her, all too aware of my mom’s manipulations. The house repairs were secondary to what she really wanted: more face time between me and Astrid. And stacked up against my reasons to say no, I also had one giant reason to say yes. If I said yes, Mom would be off my back, at least for the season.
“And if I agree to that, you stop pushing your delusions about a future daughter-in-law on me?”
She nodded. “Absolutely. Just give her a hand with a couple of things around the house. Oh, even better, introduce her to some of your teammates. Or their girlfriends. Cassie and Lena would like her. She’d probably get along with Trent’s new girlfriend, too. What’s her name again?”
