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“Maybe you should show me your driver’s license, too.”

“In your dreams, Joseph William Larson.”

“Okay, but if my identity gets stolen next week, I’ll know who’s behind it.” I grin, and he continues. “So tell me about yourself. Why are you here alone?”

“I’m here because I miss my family.” He raises his eyebrow, but lets me continue without saying anything. “The first game of the preseason was always family time. My parents, two brothers, and me. Chicken wings, ranch dressing, celery sticks. Sometimes hotdogs. Soda when we were kids, beer once we grew up. Sometimes our neighbors joined us. Other important people, too, like good friends, boyfriends, girlfriends.” I swallow hard. Jake had been coming to those for seven years. Seven fucking years. “But it’s always been the family. Football is family for me.”

“So why aren’t you with them tonight?” Joe asks softly.

“They’re still back in Minnesota,” I say.

“And you’re here.”

“And I’m here.”

“Why are you here?”

“Same reason you are here.”

“To start fresh?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I didn’t get divorced, if that’s what you’re implying.”

He pauses, eyes fixed on mine, warm and serious. “Are you in trouble?” There is a hint of concern in his voice.

“No, not like that. Except maybe with my job.” I look up at him through my eyelashes, then down at the near-empty glass between my hands.

“What did you do?”

“I gave my notice and took my unused vacation days.”

“I think that’s fine.”

“Maybe not if I need a reference.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He takes a sip of beer. “What do you do for work?”

“I’m an accountant. Or at least I was.”

“Why wouldn’t you be again?”

I sigh. “I never wanted to be an accountant.”

“Then why did you become one?”

“I was good at math.”

He huffs with mirth. “Well, that’s great. But you could’ve done lots of different things with math.”

“My family wanted me to contribute to the business.”

“Oh.” He leans back. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Honestly, I kind of do.”