Page 73 of Goal Line
I lean forward and kiss her forehead. What I want to say is that I’m sorry her mom can be such a bitch, but I don’t think that will help anything. And I honestly don’t think Helene is trying to be a bitch. I think she just has no idea how to be a parent to an adult child and doesn’t realize that her role should be as a supportive presence in Eva’s life, not as someone trying to micromanage her daughter’s career. The problem has always been that Helene is incredibly driven, and she doesn’t know how to not push Eva in the same way she’s always pushed herself.
But I don’t say any of that, because Eva already knows it, and me jumping in with my feelings on the matter won’t make it better. Instead, I say, “What can I do to help?”
“I don’t know.” She drops her head, letting her forehead rest on her kneecaps as she mumbles, “Just don’t ever let me be like that, okay?”
I bark out a laugh, and her head snaps up, eyebrows raised.
“Sorry, but first of all, I don’t think you everwouldbe like that. And secondly, I don’t think you’d like it much if I pointed out any comparison between you and your mom. That would be like walking into a field of landmines.”
She gives me a small smile. “Maybe. But I still need you to do it, okay? Unlike my mom, I can take feedback. I might not like to hear it, but I’m not going to act like you’re making it all up, or reply with something like ‘I guess I’m just the worst mother in the world, then.’”
“I hate that she tries to gaslight you like that,” I say, wondering how Charlie deals with that. He’s one of the most chill and supportive men I’ve ever met. It’s always seemed like maybe he’s exactly the type of person Helene needs to balance her out.
“And I have to go get the rest of my stuff from their house, because we didn’t grab it last night, and all my skating gear is there. We have our first practice tomorrow, but I don’t even want to go to the house because I don’t want to see her.”
“We could go right now,” I say. It’s just about lunchtime on a weekday, so I know Helene will be at the stables with my mom. They just bought a few new horses, and there’s always a bunch of work to do when new horses come in.
She lifts her eyebrows. “We?”
Like I’d let her go alone, given how she’s feeling. “Well, since we decided to leave your car back in Los Angeles, and we haven’t gotten you a new car yet, I guess you’ll need a lift up there.”
She sticks one foot out, nudging me with her toe. “Don’t trust me to drive your car?” Her tone is teasing, and she lets out another small smile.
Don’t want to let my wife out of my sight for one second longer than necessary.
“You can drive if you want. But I’m still coming with you. Not only because you’re not supposed to lift anything heavy, which I assume a fully packed suitcase will be, but also because I feel like you may want me there for emotional support.”
“Why would I need emotional support if my mom’s not there?” she asks, brows pinched.
“Because if just the memory of that interaction with your mom last night had you in full-blown crying mode, imagine what packing up your stuff in your childhood bedroom will be like.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
EVA
“You look great,” Christopher says, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and squeezing me to him the minute I walk into the rink. “Are you feeling good?”
“Thanks, and yes,” I say, before taking the final sip of my morning smoothie. The one Luke adapted from the Neon Cactus drink recipe that he bribed the bartender to give him, and has made for me each morning since we’ve been back in Boston. Knowing Luke, one will keep showing up on my nightstand daily, which I’m more than happy about.
They’re not only delicious, but he’s also added protein powder and some nutritional supplements to keep me and the baby healthy. And honestly, he’s right about me needing to eat more. Baby Squash has me feeling weaker than I’ve ever been, and if I’m going to be skating again, I have to supplement my energy levels with some good nutrition and more calories, or I won’t be able to keep up.
We make our way into the college ice arena that’s only a ten-minute walk from Luke’s condo. It would have been a beautiful stroll over here, right along the reflecting pool at the Christian Science Plaza on Huntington, if Luke hadn’t been overbearing and insisted on driving me.
I know he’s just trying to help, but I don’t think he realizes how hard it is for me to remember this is just a friends-with-benefits situation when he’s around and doing sweet things all the time.
Yesterday when we got back from my parents’ house with my suitcase, for example, I took it into the spare bedroom—or, my bedroom now, actually—and shut the door behind me. But he insisted on bringing me snacks while I was unpacking, and then taking my suitcase and storing it in the hall closet when I was done. He’d already stocked the kitchen with my favorite foods, ordered me dinner, and had peach rings at the ready when he cued up my comfort movie,Pride & Prejudice. We’d just watched the mini-series a few weeks ago, and the way he indulges my love of that story frequently makes me wonder if it’s not secretly his favorite, too. Eventually, he carried me to bed when I inevitably fell asleep during the movie.
And this morning, I woke up feeling confused about where we stand. Two nights ago, after he’d made me come twice on his kitchen counter, he’d brought me to his bed. Last night, when nothing sexual happened between us, he brought me to the spare room. And now, I’m just trying to figure out what it all means, if it means anything at all.
“You okay?” Christopher asks, and I glance up at him where he stands next to me, his bag slung across his body.
“Yeah, why?”
“You just seem . . . I don’t know . . . distant?”
“No, sorry, it’s just pregnancy brain. I can be mid-conversation and then suddenly my mind is just thinking about something totally different.”
“Is it going to be like that on the ice?” Christopher’s dark eyebrows dip, clearly concerned.
