"That was fast. Do you know that for sure?"
"You asked if Ithinkhe knows, not whether Iknowhe doesn't."
Sophie rolls her eyes. "And Harper still doesn't know?"
"Not yet. We've talked about it, but right now, there's nothing for her to know. Not really. Jamie and I have only seen each other once since he left last summer. We call and text here and there, but it's not like it used to be." I toy with the pizza crust in my hand and look sideways at her. "He asked me why I'm not looking for someone else."
"Hewhat? When?Why?"
"Last week, when I called him from the carnival. He asked what we're even doing anymore."
"But when he took the job, he asked you to keep waiting," she says.
And yeah, I know.
I eat the crust and nod. I watch several seconds of the game and nod again. "He still wants me to wait, but I—it's possible he's not doing the same. He sounded tired."
Sophie waves her hand toward the tv, which is fair. I'd be tired, too. But then she pokes me again. "How closely are you watching the gossip sites for any mention of the playboy returning to his playboy lifestyle? Is he out with a dozen different women again? What about the rumor he enjoyed the company of a man once upon a time?"
"The only rumor I've seen recently is something about him spending time with Taylor's sister, but that's not—I don't doubt how he feels about me, I just think he'd almost prefer if I give up on us and tell him the fantasy’s already let us go. He doesn't know how to, and it must be exhausting to want so many things."
The opposing team scores then, and the camera pans across the New Jersey bench in time to catch the frustration on Jamie's face. It has nothing to do with me, but I shake my head as if I can clear it away.
It mostly works, at least for that night.
I rarely go long without thinking about the shades of blue in his eyes.
By the end of the following week, after the series has gone seven games, Jamie's first season as a coach comes to an end. His team played well, but they'll be disappointed, and I send him a stupidly long voice note when I know he'll be away from his phone. I keep myself from asking how soon he'll be able to come back to California, my body aching with need I'm sure he feels as often as I do.
As other teams move on to the next round of the playoffs, Jamie keeps busy with meetings and whatever behind-the-scenes housekeeping sort of stuff happens at the end of a professional hockey season. I imagine it's like wrapping up the high school soccer season, dialed up several notches, and while he's still there, I bury myself in classroom responsibilities here. AP exams are right around the corner, and I don't have the energy to chase conversations I've never chased before. I spend time with Sophie and some of the other teachers, all of us counting down to the end of the school year as much as any of the students do.
I'm sitting at my desk on a Friday night, staring at essays that have begun to blur, when my phone rings. It's late for me, which means it's too late for Jamie, and I'm on edge before I take my glasses off and touch my thumb to my screen.
"Hey, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm—I wasn't sure if you'd be a couple of margaritas deep by now, but it sounds like you're somewhere quiet."
"My classroom. I bailed on everyone tonight so I could get caught up on grading," I tell him, still wary. "Did youwantme to be a couple of margaritas deep?"
"I don't know. I guess. This isn't—I'd rather have you pressed up against my patio door for this, I think. It would be better than only having a phone call."
"Are you breaking up with me?"
The choked sound he makes is one I'll hear for a long time. "What the fuck is there to break up, Mateo? And since when have I known how to quit running after things that should be too big to want?"
"Right. Of course," I sigh. "But when I was pressed to your patio door, you were saying goodbye before you moved across the country. So, what are you saying now?"
"That I'm staying here."
"Staying," I echo.
"Yeah," Jamie says. "I mean, not forever. And I promised Harper a week in Alaska, so I'll be home for a minute, but—"
"But only for a minute."
"I need you to know it's not because of anyone else. This isn't—I want to put more time in around here. Team stuff and just—I feel like I buried myself in the job, but didn't consider that part of my job is building relationships around here. I barely learned my way to and from the arena. I haven't done any touristy shit. And this summer, I want to be here to do that."
None of what he's saying makes me feel any better about hisnot forevercomment, especially after his loyalty to a single team kept him in place his entire playing career. And the thing is, I don't think he's wrong to want to stay and meet people who will greet him with the cheers he loves. I don't think he'd be wrong even if he didn't need the cheers in the first place. I don't know how to encourage him around the selfish lump in my throat, and I don't really try.