Page 14 of Fast Break

Fourteen

Palmer

Dinnerwent so much better than I could've hoped for,thankstoBooneand his parents.

They showed enough interest in me to keep my mother too distracted to point out my flaws, along with suggestions for improvement, of course.

Boone's presence obviously affected my parents in a positive way.

I could already see the wedding bells dancing in my mother's eyes, little bags of money dancing in my father's as he no doubt calculated what a merger between our families would be worth.

The investment bankers and the developers.

But Boone's presence was also a pleasant surprise for me.

Conversation never waned and the evening ended with me offering tickets for a homegameanytime he wanted andBooneaccepting.

I want to leave with the Wainwrights, but my parents ask me to stay back a few minutes.

My earlier optimismgivesway to a pit of dread in mystomach.

I join my parents in the kitchen, where my mother fills a kettle with water for tea and my father uncaps abeer.

I sit on a stool at the breakfastbar,playingwith the tab of a can of Clearly Canadian.

Peach, my favorite. I'll have tothankHelen next time I see her for stocking it in the fridge for me.

"So,"my mother begins."What did you think ofBoone?"

I roll my eyes."He's very friendly. But I hope thiswasn'tsupposed to be an attempt at matchmaking. I'm not ready to jump into something."

My mother clicks hertongue."The best way to get over a badfallis to get right back up on that horse."

I snort."That's kind of whatTishasaid."

"She sounds very smart."The kettle whistles. She removes it from the burner and pours the scalding liquid into her cup."It's sad things didn't work out withBrennan. But now you can take what you learned from that failure and apply it to your next try. WithBoone, perhaps?"

"Mom,"I sigh.

"Oh, lay off her, Elaine,"my dad sighs. He waves thebottlein the air."Booneseems like a fine young man, but ifPalmerisn't interested right now, it's understandable."

My mother dunks her tea bag a few times, then tosses it in the trash."She's not getting any younger, and she's already wasted all those years withBrennan."

"I'm not even thirty yet, Mom,"I protest.

"That's why it's time for you to get serious about settling down.

"She points at me with her cup."Did you know your egg count willdropto only 100,000 by the time you're thirty?

And when you reach thirty-five, it drops to just 25,000?

After that, each year, there is a rapid decline in your fertility.

These are your prime years, and you're wasting themplayingthat sillygame. "

"Elaine,"my father warns.

Ipushmy sparkling water aside and hop off the stool."Ohh-kayyy. Time for me to go home.Thanksfordinner."

I bend to give my mother a perfunctory peck on the cheek and reach up to do the same with my dad."Text me you got home safe,"he reminds me.

I give him a thumbs up and hurry through the mudroom and out the back door.

Only once I'm in my car and on 70 east headed back toBaltimoredo I release my pent-up scream.

It had been a rarely pleasant night, but my mother couldn'tstandnotleavingme with a partingshot.

The reminder of my fertility had been harsh, even if she did have a point.

I only have a couple of years before I hit my thirties.

And what am I doing? Messing around with someone I don't have a future with instead of pursuing a real prospect.

I look at my phone.Boonehad given me his number.

I could invite him to the nextgame. We could go todinner.

Maybe I'd drive down to Frederick on one of my days off, and we could picnic up at Gambrill or hike the Appalachian Trail.

And then what,Palmer? Ask him to move in?Pickout paint swatches and baby names? Until, likeBrennan, he finally realizes he can do better?

"No."I slam my hand on the steering wheel.Boonemay end up being The One, who knows? But if Idatehim now, I'll probablyfallfor him and end up repeating the same pattern. Then where does that leave me?Alone, again, and with a hell of a lot fewer eggs.Damn my mother for getting into my head.

I'm sticking with theplanfor now.Charliemay not be able to give me a future, but he sure as hell can give me some orgasms, which is what I need right now.

It's just going on ten o'clock when I arrive home. I kick off my pumps anddropmy purse and keys by the door, then dash off aquicktext to let Dad know I made it home okay. My phone chirps with an incoming message. But it isn't Dad. It'sCharlie.

Charlie

Are you home?

Me

Just got in. I was getting ready for bed.

Charlie

Want some help?

I bite mylip, unsure if he's teasing me or if it's a genuine proposition. I type back"sure"and wait for his reply.

Charlie

Don't say it unless you mean it, Coco

Me

Coco? And do YOU mean it?

Charlie

Palmer= = =Coco

Charlie

I always mean what I say

Me

Then I'll wait for you. Park in the garage and you can come right up on the elevator.

Charlie

Be there in a few

I scramble to brush my teeth and fix my hair, then run through the apartment to make sure I haven't left anything embarrassing lying about.

I've just finished when there is a knock on my door.

After checking the peephole first, I open the door to a rumpled smokeshowof a man.

Charlieisn't in his usual khakis and collared shirt, which he fills out nicely.

Tonight, he'swearinga fitted black T-shirt with the Maryland flag andBaltimoreBattle emblazoned across thechest, hanging loose over a pair of charcoal gray basketball shorts.

His hair is mussed, a few stray pieces sticking up at odd angles like he'd just rolled out of bed.

The dark shadow along his jawline is also new;Charliealways came to work with a smooth face.

But I like this version of him. Very much.

"Are you going to let me in?"heasks, one corner of his lips tugging upward in a knowing smirk.

I clear my throat."Of course."

I step back to let him enter, then shut and bolted the door. I turn around and lean against it with my hands behind my back, suddenly nervous."How about adrink? I have a half-bottleof Shiraz, Cherry Cola, or water."

He scrutinizes me, rubbing his stubble as ifdeepin thought."I'm supposed to be helping you to bed, so Cherry Cola would be counterintuitive."

He steps closer, into my personal space, and breathes deeply."Minty, which means you already brushed?"I nod.

"Then that rules out wine. Have you ever had red wine after brushing your teeth?"He cringes."As bad as drinking orange juice."

I lick my lips."Thedrinkis for you, not me."

He rubs his thumb against his lips."I don't need adrink. At least not yet. Maybe after I've eaten."

Istart."Oh, sorry. It's so late, I didn't think to ask. I try to avoid junk food during theseason, but I have plenty of fruits and veggies if you want a snack. Or I can make you a sandwich."

Istartto move past him toward the kitchen, but he grasps my wrist andpullsme to a stop."No, Coco. I don't want you to make me something to eat. You are my something to eat. Consider this lesson two."