Page 33 of Rebound
“I ask him what the hell he’s doing here and he’s all like, this man is not good enough for you.”
Jules makes a face as she digs into the pistachio pastry. “He’s never even met Benjamin.”
“That’s exactly what I said! But Roman was convinced. Then he told me not to schedule a second date with him.” I pause to take a bite of the cake. “Then he tells me to stop saying Benjamin’s name because he doesn’t like it, and he only wants me to think about him.”
Jules clutches her heart. “Praise be.”
I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet. “We start walking home and my heels are killing me. Guess what he does?”
“I can’t! Omigod.” She leans over the counter, resting her chin on her upturned palm.
Getting up, I grab a glass of water and take a hearty drink, prolonging the moment.
“Vin!”
I walk over to her, resting my hands on her upper arms and looking her directly in the eyes.
“He carried me home, Jules. Four fucking blocks. And he said he will carry me anywhere I need for as long as I need.”
Hearts dance in Jules’s eyes, and I’m sure they’re reflected in mine. I can still feel where Roman’s arms met my body, my skin still tingling from his proximity. A part of me questions if I should be more cautious. Then again, playing by the rules and always being cautious hasn’t gotten me anywhere.
“This man is good,” Jules says quietly.
She demands I tell her the whole incident again and we move to the couch, sitting across from each other as I tell her all about it. It’s been a long time since we’ve had the chance to be this excited over something and an even longer time since we’ve spent the night chatting away. When I moved back, I realized how much I missed my best friend. Jules is my soulmate, and that’s a position no one can replace.
Friday night familydinner has been a tradition since before I can remember. My mother has one demand and that is that each of us have to show up for family dinner if we’re not playing. When my dad was still playing, most nights it was Mom, me,and Drew. In high school, our threesome grew to permanently include Jules.
Now, family dinner is a large event. Sometimes, one of the Titans will join us because they miss their families, and they are in different states. Most nights, it’s the family, which includes my parents, Drew, Jules, both of my grandmothers, and our great-aunt Constance.
When my grandmothers retired, Mom and Dad decided it was better to turn the pool house into an in-law suite and move them both there. Aunt Constance, Dad’s aunt, moved in three years ago. It’s a real life Golden Girls moment.
We’re all gathered around the dinner table now, digging into the lasagna Mom and Drew prepared. I have no cooking skills because my brother got all of them in the womb, so I enjoy these family dinners and take leftovers home for Jules and me.
“Team’s looking good this year,” Dad says.
“No shop talk,” Mom chides.
Over the years, she has gotten lenient on the no shop talk rule because with three hockey players in the family, there has got to be hockey talk at the dinner table. She’s a Physics professor at Mercer University, so she’s the odd one out in this family. Neither of her kids were interested in science or academia.
Dad likes to joke that he had to make-up for the fact Drew and I share Mom’s features with our red hair and green eyes, so he should at least get to share our careers with us. Dad has dark hair which is mostly shot with grey now, and light brown eyes.
“That Roman Maddox is a real looker,” Aunt Constance adds.
“Constance! He’s a child.” Grandma Liz pokes her sister on the arm.
“Liz, I know he’s practically a child compared to me. What does that have to do with what he looks like? I mean, what’s the point of going to a hockey game if I can’t even appreciate the players?”
“She does have a point,” Gran says. “You were a hockey mother, it’s different for you.”
Jules giggles and lifts her wine glass to take a sip.
“Right? He’s definitely much better looking than He Whose Name We Don’t Mention,” Aunt Constance says.
That confuses me. “Do you mean Josh?”
Aunt Constance gasps. “I thought we’re not mentioning his name.”
I slice off a piece of lasagna so hard my knife scrapes against the plate. Mom winces, probably thinking about scratches on her nice china.
