Page 34 of Love of the Game
“Wait, the one that looks like a sexy pirate? Dark hair. Goatee?”
Well, that was one way to describe Jon, I guess. “Mom, ew. But yes.”
“Drake, I’m old, not dead, and he’s a nice-looking man.”
“Again, ew. Stop. But yes, he is. I’m staying with him rather than in a hotel.”
“Oh,” she said, in a knowing way.
“Mom.” Ew ew ew.
“Sorry. I’m glad you’ve met someone you get along with.” She sounded like she was trying hard not to laugh.
I gripped my hair with my free hand. “Anyway, I don’t know if it’ll go anywhere, but he’s a really nice guy. I figured I should tell you about my life from time to time, you know?”
“I do appreciate it.” The humor was still there, but it fell away. “Especially if it’s something I can help you with.”
“I’m not sure you can help me with the asshole sperm donor.”
She snorted. “Oh, I still have connections. If he gives you any more trouble…”
“Mom,” I warned.
“I’m not doing anything. You sound like you have it handled. But if he does something…”
I sighed. “Okay.” Then added, “Look, I should go. Jon’s making breakfast.”
“Okay, sweetie. Good luck with your games, and your boyfriend, too.”
God. Boyfriend. I wasn’t even sure Jon and I were dating. “Thanks, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
We ended the call, and I tossed the phone onto the bed, scrubbed my face with my hands, then sighed.
Mothers. I loved mine, but boy, they were weird.
Downstairs, I found Jon dancing around the kitchen to music. Sounded like it might be a current-hits mix of some sort, or satellite radio. His face lit up when he saw me, and he told his system to turn itself down. “Just about done.”
He’d made…pancakes? Crepes? I couldn’t actually tell which. Also eggs, and had put out fresh fruit.
“What are these? I asked, poking at the pancake, then trying a bite, and oh my god. “Shit, these are good.”
“Swedish pancakes,” he said, the pushed the cut berries over to me. “Put fruit on them.”
I did, and I swear I never wanted to leave this house. “It’s unfair that you cook this well.”
“Is it?” He grinned, then sobered. “How’d your call go?”
“Good. Mom was pissed at jerkface, but not as upset as I thought she might be. More mad that he was bothering me.”
Jon nodded.
“And I kind of told her we have a thing.”
He raised an eyebrow. “A thing, eh?”
“Yeah, I mean—we do.”
