Page 65 of The Comeback

I stop with the fork in mid-air. “Nothing.” Now, I’ve lost my appetite. I drop the utensil onto the blue porcelain plate and tap my fingertips on the table.

My mom tilts her head, and it all spills out–everything from our initial meeting and dislike for each other to him saving me from being run over on the way to the café, all the way to the famous break-up scene.

“I don’t understand.” She frowns. “Why don’t you want to date a football player? Your dad played football, and all your brothers play football. I know you pretend to hate the sport to get their goat, but you love it. It doesn’t make sense."

"That’s what you got from the whole story?” I cross my arms over my chest. “My heart was broken by that jerk, and you’re worried about why I don’t want to date a football player.”

“Yes, dear, I am.” She smiles, and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes crinkle. “It’s my job. To be happy, you must fix yourself.”

“I don’t have anything that needs to be fixed. Thank you very much.”

“Really?”

“Fine,” I growl. Here’s my mom, the ultimate, I expect my kids to be better than everyone else’s kids. Now, fix your shit, woman. “I didn’t want to date a football player because our life wasn’t stable. Dad moved a lot and….” I cringe. “And you put up with it. You put your life on hold for dad. He dragged you around so much that you refused to move when my brothers and I were in high school. That’s why I didn’t want to date a football player. I wanted a man with a nine-to-five job who only watches sports on Sunday afternoons while lying on the sofa.”

The color in her face blanches, and she scoots her chair back. “I had no idea you thought that. You have it all wrong. The move to Kansas City was my idea. Your dad didn’t want to uproot the family again, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. I begged him to put his name in the hat. He would only interview if I agreed to keep you all in one place until everyone had graduated. He wouldn’t uproot you from your sports or friends again.”

My mouth drops open. “This job was your idea?”

“Yes.” She smiles. “You know Coach Slater’s wife and I have been friends for years. When the spot came open, I was dying to get here. He’s a phenomenal coach, and the team was poised to make it big. Like it has.”

I unlace my arms and run a hand through my hair. “I’m shocked.”

“I know it was hard for you to move schools over the years, but your father and I were strategic in the moves. We made sure each change was going in the direction we ultimately wanted to go, and we’re here.”

“I thought you hated being a football wife.”

Her head jerks backward. “Whatever gave you that idea? Your grandfather and I watched football together every weekend, and when I met your father, I sought him out because of his play on the field. I was fascinated by his talent.”

I clasp my hands together to keep them from shaking. My entire view of my parent’s relationship has shifted about 90 degrees. Yes, I knew they were happy and loved each other, but I never realized what a team they were. Which was stupid because that’s how they parented–as a united front.

“Eat up.” She nods and scoops up a bitesize portion of the macaroni in front of her.

I nod absentmindedly. Once the cheesy concoction is on my tongue, I groan, “This is good. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Thank you.” Her face shines with pleasure. “Why did you not want to date Weston in particular?”

I should have known she wouldn’t let it go until I’ve completely bled out. “I was instantly attracted to him, but he represented what I thought would ruin my independence and the potential of having to uproot and move. And he didn’t want to date me because the timing wasn’t right. He doesn’t know where he’s going to end up.”

“But you became close anyway?”

Like I could have avoided it. I shove another bite of food into my mouth. He’s like the last piece of chocolate cake on a plate set in front of a woman on her ninetieth date of a diet. There’s no chance it’s going to survive without being devoured. “There’s something about him. It didn’t seem to matter that I knew it was wrong. That he could destroy me. I did it anyway.”

“Do you regret it?”

The words float through the room like dust particles swirling in the air. Do I regret it? No. No, I don’t.

My heart slams in my chest. I regret letting him break-up with me. I regret implying I wouldn’t happily pack up and go anywhere with him. Because fourteen days away from him is killing me. I lick my lips. If he gets sent to another team, I would move with him in a heartbeat.

Damn it. My shoulders sag. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t love me enough to ask. Tears fill my eyes. If he gets cut and moves across the country, I’d go. But he won’t ask me. I’ll never see him again.

As my stomach rolls, I clutch it, willing the nausea to dissipate and the pain to lessen.

Why did I fall in love with a man who doesn’t see a future between us?

Chapter Thirty-Five

One Week Later

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