Page 34 of The Slapshot and the Single Mom
Wandering into the living room, I flop down on the couch without turning on a light, using only the meager illumination from the dining room. I’m a little afraid to break the spell of this night, and I’m afraid something as jarring as turning on a light will do it. It feels delicate, like a soap bubble floating through the air, and the minute it lands, it’ll pop and disappear.
I don’t want this feeling to disappear. I want to wrap it around myself and let it sink in.
I feel … good. Really good. Happy in a way I haven’t felt in longer than I can remember.
He took me to a baseball game. And he didn’t complain once. He asked questions about finer points that he didn’t understand—little rules that he didn’t know. He clapped and cheered along with me. He went and got us fresh drinks and snacks when I gothungry during the fourth inning so I wouldn’t have to miss any of the game.
Now that I think about it, he also leaned into me almost the entire time, his arm pressing against mine when I wasn’t writing or clapping. I chalked it up to him watching me keep score, but after that kiss? Was he touching me on purpose to signal interest?
Damn. After that kiss, I really wish he wouldn’t have held back that night we bumped into each other and did that painting class. I could’ve been getting those kisses this whole time?
And maybe … more?
He’s right. I’m not ready for that tonight. But …
I have no objection to the idea on principle. It’s more that I need time to wrap my head around this new development.
The fact that he knows me well enough to realize that and also cares enough to make sure I get it is …
Tears prick at the backs of my eyes, and I blink them away, not wanting to get that emotional. Not right now. Not when I’m so happy.
But I can’t remember the last time a man paid enough attention to me to recognize what I would need without me having to explicitly say it and also cared enough to make sure I get it.
The baseball tickets. The kiss. Giving me time after the kiss so I can process.
A text alert sounds on my phone, and I go get it from where I left it in the dining room, smiling when I see it’s from Jack.
Jack
I know I said I’d call tomorrow, but I miss you already. I just walked into my empty apartment, and I’m mad that I didn’t stay. Or that you didn’t come home with me
I miss you too. But I appreciate that you realize I needed some time after that kiss
My phone rings, and I laugh as I answer. “I thought you said you’d call tomorrow.”
“Do you want me to hang up and call first thing in the morning?”
“Well, no. Not only because I don’t want to be awake that early—and I doubt you do either—but also because we’re already on the phone. It seems silly to hang up already.”
Silence stretches between us as I make my way back to my couch, this time pausing to turn on one of the lamps. Sitting down, I curl my feet up under me.
He clears his throat. “So, uh, we’re good?”
Chuckling softly, I nod. “Yeah. We’re good.”
He lets out a relieved breath. “Okay. I know I said?—”
“Jack,” I cut in, “it’s okay. I remember what you said.” I run my hand over the couch’s upholstery, watching my fingers move back and forth. “When you said all that, about keeping things friendly and I could call it quits at any time, was that because you thought I wouldn’t agree to go out with you again?”
“Yeah,” he answers, his voice hoarse. “Pretty much. I could tell that you were trying to give me reasons to run away the first time we went out. And I get why. I still don’t think you would’ve agreed to go out with me every week if I’d just asked you out on a normal date, though.”
I hum, neither agreeing nor disagreeing because I don’t want to admit that he’s right.
“Would you?” he pushes.
Chuckling again, I have to shake my head. “Probably not. I would’ve gone to lunch with you, though. And you might’ve eventually convinced me to go out with you on a random evening again. It was easier to agree when it was presented as some kind of business agreement, though.”
He laughs. “Not that you ever let me hold up my whole end of the deal. I’m supposed to be paying for childcare, and instead you just made it so he has a sleepover with his grandparents once a week.”
