“I know you are.”
He lowers his head and whispers, “I don’t know that I can ever forgive myself for not being there with you.”
I stay silent, not because I want him to suffer (okay, maybe a little) but because I don’t know what to say. I’m old enough now to understand that expecting him to get there in the middle of a Majors semi-final was delusional. Chances he was checking his phone were slim. But I was young, emotional, and losing our baby. It was easier to blame him than to be logical about the situation. Especially when I had no one else around me who knew.
He raps his knuckles against the counter and gives me a small, sad smile. “Enjoy your malt.”
I watch him leave the kitchen, wondering why a part of me desperately wants to call him back.
CHAPTER 7
FISHER
After the weekendspent with everyone at Noah’s house when I open the door to my condo the silent and stale air inside has me sighing. I wish I had a dog or a cat or fuck even a fish—some sort of sign of life, but there’s no point in having a pet when I travel for around eleven months out of the year.
Locking up behind me, I turn the lights on as I go.
I hung out at Noah’s until around six, ditching after dinner so I didn’t have to spend the meal alone.
For someone who’s always surrounded by people I’m pretty fucking lonely.
My phone rings just as I pick up the remote to turn the TV on for background noise.
MOM fills the screen with a selfie of my mom and me the last time we got together earlier in the year at the Miami Open when she came to visit. It’s not lost on me that I should be the one visiting her, especially now that she’s having trouble getting around, but she’s never made me feel bad for my job keeping me away. Neither has my dad. They’re both great people, with a relationship I’ve always hoped to replicate and thought I had with Ebba. I’ve always wanted to find someone who’s my bestfriend—that I can laugh and joke and just enjoy spending time with but also havemore.
I slide the button across the call screen and bring the phone to my ear. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, I just wanted to check on you. I haven’t heard from you in a few days.”
I run my fingers through my hair, tugging on the strands. “Sorry about that. Friends were in town and I got distracted.”
“Oh, that’s exciting. Who was it?”
“Elias, his girlfriend, and his sister—Sabrina wanted the girls to be there for her final fitting.”
“Well, that sounds like a nice weekend. Do you think you’ll be able to make it over to visit before you head to Australia?”
I scrub my hand over the back of my head. I’m glad she ignores, or doesn’t notice, my mention of Ebba. My parents were the only people who knew about us. My mom hasn’t been shy over the years in her request for me to fix things.
There won’t be much free time after the wedding before we leave, but I can’t say no to my mom. “Yeah, I’ll come over soon.”
“Oh, that’ll be wonderful.” The pure joy in her voice tells me I’ve made the right decision. “Once you know a day, let me know and I’ll make your favorite lasagna.”
I perk up. “The mushroom one? With the béchamel sauce?”
She laughs. “Thatisyour favorite.”
I groan, already hungry at the prospect. She doesn’t make it often anymore, and she’s given me the recipe, but I can never seem to replicate it exactly the same.
“And,” she drawls in her slight southern twang. My mom is originally a northerner from Michigan, but she’s lived in Texas long enough now that she’s developed her own unique accent. “If there’s anyone you’re seeing, feel free to bring them.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, pacing the length of my kitchen. “Mom.”
“I know, I know,” she sing-songs. “I’m just saying. You haven’t brought a girl home in a long time.”
“Jeez, Mom.”
“At this point I think you’re never going to get married or have kids. And I mean, that’s okay if that’s not something you want, but you used to talk about it and?—”