Page 112 of Penalty Shot

“I guess I’m out a hundred bucks.”

“What?!”

“Lily and I had a bet. She said you’d move in together before the end of the year and I said next year. So, if it’s any time before January first, she’d win. For the record, I was pretty sure it was going to happen before Valentine’s Day.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Have you told Lily yet?”

“No. I wanted you to know first.”

“Lily and I noticed how much you relied on him when you were in Cleveland.”

“Relied on him?”

“That’s not the right word. More likeleanedon Randall. Trusted him to be on your side. You were never like that with your past boyfriends.”

She’s right. I learned to keep my dating life and my theater work separate, because it’s too hard to explain what my passion means to me. It wasn’t only Miles who saw theater as the competition for my attention or a frivolous, irrelevant hobby.

Randall, however, considers my work as an extension of who I am.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend who truly understands what’s important to me,” I say earnestly. “He inhabits the high-profile world of professional sports, and yet Randall never makes me feel like my dreams are less significant.”

She puts an arm around me and, like a little kid, I slide down to lean my head on her shoulder.

“I’m happy for both of you,” she states and kisses me on the forehead.

The sandwiches arrive and we let our conversation stray to all corners of our lives. I show her pictures of the office Randall decorated and we gossip about everything and nothing: the new neighbors across the street, her bingo folks complaining about the church hall, the fall programming for local theaters, my progress on the new play.

It’s the usual hodgepodge of updates that I know, in my heart, we’ll always share no matter where I live.

We’re at the end of our pot of tea when I realize something.

“You said we had to talk,” I venture. “Before I gave my news, you wanted to say something.”

“Oh, that’s fine. It can wait.”

“Why? Just tell me. Is it a work thing?”

“Sort of, but not really.”

“What does that mean?” Ma is a manager and often brings work home, but she’s never dodgy with my questions.

“It’s about me. And Sienna.” She speaks slowly, not out of hesitation, but because she’s studying me, logging my reaction to each word.

Before we went to Vancouver, I shared with Randall the glimpse I caught of something different between the two of them. Nothing came up since then; at least nothing obvious to me. Probably because I had been spending most of my time at my boyfriend’s place.

But if Ma is saying what I think she’s saying…

“Are you and Sienna dating?” I burst out, giddy with the possibility.

Her face flushes and her smile beams.

“We are. I mean, I guess we are. Actually, yes. Yes, we’re dating.” She sounds flustered, yet her expression is all joy.

“Ma, this is amazing!”

“She’s my best friend. I was scared to risk our friendship.”