Page 63 of Center Ice
I can’t tell how my mom is feeling about any of this, and I hate that—the way she sometimes seems just like herself and other times her expression is distant or vacant. Right now, though, I think she might be amused?
“Yeah, that’s really what I said.”
“Doesn’t seem like she took it that well.” A small smile plays on her lips, so I know she’s teasing me.
“I know. I should never have blurted any of that out without at least talking to her about it first. Did Graham hear?”
“No, he was ‘reading’”—she uses air quotes around the word—“to me, so he wasn’t paying attention.”
“You just found out you have another grandson, and you don’t seem surprised by this information?” I don’t ask if she’s happy about this, because I want to let her express her own emotions.
“He’s the spitting image of you when you were that age. So either you expected me to figure it out, or you didn’t really think it through before bringing him over.”
I take a seat on the chair that sits catty corner to the couch. “It didn’t occur to me until I saw the photo album sitting out in the family room.”
“I’m glad you brought him over. Would have liked it better if you’d told me ahead of time, but figuring it out on my own was its own kind of victory, I guess.”
“We haven’t told him yet.”
“Yeah, Audrey mentioned that. So, how did this happen?”
“There’s only one way itcanhappen, Mom.” I give her a playful wink.
“I know there’s no way you knew this whole time and kept it from me, so I guess my question really is: why didn’t you know?”
I tell her the briefest version of the story possible, and she shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Your agent’s little sister? You could find trouble inside a paper bag.” It’s something she said to me all the time growing up, and in some ways, I guess that’s followed me into adulthood.
“I guess so.”
“So before you opened your big mouth to Caitlyn, did Audrey have any idea you plan on marrying her…after only a few weeks back in her life?”
“Probably not. I initially told her that I had too much on my plate, and couldn’t do a relationship. But every minute I spend with her, I’m more and more sure we’re meant to be together.” I glance out at the driveway and am disappointed that she’s not sitting there in her SUV waiting for me.
“Drew, do youloveher?”
The word catches me off guard. “I mean…” I don’t know how to answer that question. It feels too early in our relationship to even ask it.
“Thenwhy in the worldwould you announce that you’re going to marry her?” Mom’s voice is so exasperated I feel like I’m a little kid again.
“Because she’s all I can think of, day in and day out. If I’m not playing hockey, I’m pretty much thinking about her—texting her, calling her, trying to find reasons to go see her. I want to be with her all the time.”
“That’s the infatuation stage ofanynew relationship, Drew. It’s not the basis of marriage. You can’t commit to a lifetime with someone based on that infatuation because, eventually, it will fade. There are a lot of tough times in life and in a marriage, and if anything less than love is at the foundation of the relationship, things will eventually start collapsing.”
“I don’t know what to do, then.”
“Sure, you do,” Mom says as she pulls a blanket off the back of the couch and spreads it across her lap. “You show her you’re the type of person worth building that foundation with.”
“C’mon, Audrey, answer the damn phone,” I curse and bang my hand on the steering wheel. After Ubering back to my house, I hopped in my Jeep and headed to her. I’ve called her about ten times as I’ve driven from the Back Bay to the South End. Now I’m pulling onto her street, and she’s still not answering.
I take the turn into the driveway that leads to the alley behind her house, and when I get to their back door, I see that her littleSUV isn’t there, just a big truck withOur Housewritten across the side in white lettering. It must be Jules’s truck, but it’s not at all the vehicle I would have pictured her in.
I take Audrey’s spot and barely pause to turn my car off before I’m out the door and up their back steps. Jules swings open the door before I even have a chance to knock, crosses her arms over her chest, leans against the doorframe, and says, “She isn’t here, Drew.”
“How do you know who I am?” I realize how ridiculous the question is as soon as it’s out of my mouth. We’ve never officially met, but I’ve seen her at Jameson’s and at the pre-season game last week, so of course she’s seen me too.
Jules just rolls her eyes. “Like I wouldn’t know my own sister’s baby daddy.”
I hate that label and hate it even more when it’s being applied to me. “Thanks for making me sound like nothing but a sperm donor.”
