“I don’t know.” Dominique clasps my hand. “But she’d want you to live your life to the fullest. And I don’t think that’s what you’re doing. You go to work at a job you never wanted; you’re playing a mom role you never wanted. You’re not reallyliving. You’re just going through the motions.”
I hike a shoulder, pretending like her words don’t sting as badly as they do. “I don’t know what to do about that. Maybe once the kids go off to college, I can focus on myself. But right now? I have a responsibility to them. To my sister. I have to take care of them. My wants and needs aren’t a priority right now.”
“You need to take care of you too, Pres. Take it from another mom.” She squeezes my hand. “Please, just come out with us and meet Jeff’s friend. If you don’t like him, I’ll leave you alone about dating.”
I arch a brow. “You’ll leave me alone?”
She rolls her eyes. “For, like, a month.”
I laugh and my shoulders droop forward. “Fine. One double date, and that’s it.”
Who knows? Maybe this guy will turn out to be the love of my life.
This guy issonotthe love of my life.
Jeff’s coworker, Andrew, hasn’t stopped talking about the stock market since we sat down.
Who wears a suit and tie to a hockey game?
I’d rather listen to Alyssa practice the trumpet than be a part of this conversation, and that says a lot becausefuckis that kid bad at the trumpet.
Dominique keeps sending me apologetic glances, and whisper-yelling to her husband about his friend, as if it’s his fault when this blind date was her idea.
But most of my attention is on the game, because the tickets Andrew got us?
Goldfinches versus Sharks.
After four years of secretly watching my ex-boyfriends through the safety of a television screen, I now have a front-row seat.
I hold my breath every time they whizz by, praying that they don’t see me—or hoping that they do. I’m not sure whichscenario I prefer. Would they even remember me? Four years is a long time, and with the throngs of women who throw themselves at professional athletes, I’d probably be just another face in the crowd by now.
Andrew’s arm wraps around my shoulders as he pulls me closer to him, and the armrest digs into my ribs. “Jeff mentioned you’re a librarian. Does that pay well?”
My eyebrows hit my hairline. “Uh, it’s average as far as salaries go.”
“Are you investing for your retirement?”
Jesus Christ.I’m never complaining about Alyssa’s trumpet again.
Luckily, the Goldfinches score, so I use the opportunity to jump out of my seat with the rest of the fans. Andrew remains seated, as if he couldn’t care less about the game, but when I glance at him over my shoulder, his eyes are zeroed in on my ass.
I drop back into my seat and pretend like I didn’t hear his previous question, my gaze finding McKinley and Kellerman as they shove past each other on the ice.
Dominique’s gasp startles me. “Oh my god, look. You’re on the KissCam.”
My stomach seizes as I glance up at the jumbotron above the middle of the arena. Sure enough, my face is plastered on the screen, next to Andrew’s in the middle of a red heart.
I laugh as I shake my head, trying to signal that we’re not a couple, and we’re not going to kiss. But Andrew grabs my face with both hands and pulls me toward him.
I push both of my palms against his shoulders, trying to get out of his strong hold. “Andrew, no.”
The crowd chants, “Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him!”
“Ah, come on.” He waggles his eyebrows as he overpowers me. “Just one kiss for the camera.”
“I said no.” I grip Andrew’s wrists in a futile attempt to pry him off of me.
The cheering of the crowd drowns out my grunts as I saystopagain.