Page 49

Talk about rubbing salt in my wound.
“That’s Maeve. She seems great.”
“How old is she?”
“Twenty-five.”
Too young for me anyway.
“What does she look like?”
“Why does that matter?” I ask.
“I’m curious.”
“She’s got long blond hair.” It’s the shiniest, softest hair in the world. “And blue eyes.” A vibrant blue that grabs hold of your attention and never relinquishes its hold.
“Hmm. I pictured her being a brunette when Gramps talked about her.”
“That’s funny. I did too.”
“Now that you own the team, does that mean I get to go to the home games?” she asks with a hopeful expression on her face.
“I suppose you can go to some of them. It depends on when they fall. You can’t attend any game that’s on a school night.”
“That’s okay. When is the first game?”
“Preseason games run the last two weeks of September and the regular season starts the second week of October.”
She wrinkles her little nose. “But that’s so far away.”
“It’s less than three months until the season opener.”
“Awesome.”
“And between now and then, you have your summer break from school to enjoy.”
“Good point.” She shoots to her feet. “I’m going to tell my friends.” She leans in for a hug. “Night, Dad.”
“Night, Gwennie.”
She bounds out of the room like an excited puppy, leaving me alone with my thoughts of Maeve. I want to call her more than anything, but I know I shouldn’t. I could send her a text. What harm would that do?
I’m sorry about what happened this morning.
I send the message before I can stop myself or delete it.
Thankfully, she doesn’t make me wait for a reply.
You don’t need to apologize. It’s not your fault the circumstances are shitty.
You’re right, they are shitty. I wish I were with you right now.
You can’t say things like that to me anymore.
I know, but I mean it. I wish I could hold you in my arms right now and tell you everything will be all right.
You want to lie to me?