Page 75 of Center Ice
“Everything just feels more intense, I think, because Drew is Graham’s dad.”
“Are you planning to tell Graham soon?” Lauren asks. “I’m halfway afraid one of us is going to slip up and say something. Especially since all the adults in his life know at this point.”
“I know, and so do most of Drew’s family. He’s got a grandmother, aunts, and cousins who he’s never met. We need to tell him soon; we just haven’t talked yet about how we’re going to do that.”
Jules snickers, and we all turn toward her. Her eyes widen. “What?”
“What the hell was that?” Lauren asks with a laugh.
“I was just”—she glances at me apologetically—“thinking that if Audrey didn’t bang him every time she saw him, they could talk about this.”
“Jules!” I burst out. “What the hell? We had sex once!” Suddenly, the tables around us get quiet, and I realize how loudly I just proclaimed this fact. And my cheeks practically burst into flames when it occurs to me that half of them are probably trying to figure out if it was Jules and me who had sex, or if I’m talking about myself and someone else.
We all laugh at the awkwardness of the sudden quiet, which breaks the tension and has conversations starting up again at other tables. “So…” Morgan leans in. “Was it hot?”
“I’m not describing our sexual relationship,” I say, releasing a whoosh of a breath. “But…yes.”
“Girl, yousodeserve this!” Lauren says as she reaches over and squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll spare you the details, given that you’re related to my fiancé, but suffice it to say that a good sex life makes just about everything better.”
“Ewww.” Jules cringes.
“It’s not like you didn’t know they have sex,” I say and roll my eyes at what a role reversal this is. Normally, I’m the one who has a hard time talking about sex.
“I get it,” Lauren says. “This is what it’s like when Sierra talks about her sex life in front of Jackson.” Two of Lauren’s best friends are now related, since Sierra married Jackson’s little brother, Beau. “Which is why I won’t tell you how fucking unbelievable my sex life is now.”
“Lauren.” Jules groans her name out like it’s two long syllables, and then covers her ears. “Please, stop.”
Lauren laughs lightly, a satisfied smile plastered on her face. “Okay, I promise, no details.”
As the waiter returns with our drinks, we toast Morgan. She’s turning twenty-six, and even though I’m only two years older, our lives feel very different. The weight of being a single mom has…aged me?
I don’t know how to explain it, except to say that for Graham’s entire life, I’ve felt like my load was so heavy I might drop it at any moment. But the fear of everything shattering caused me to hold on tighter, push through even harder. Now that Drew is back in my life, it’s the first time in years I’ve felt like maybe I can rest—maybe I canbreathe—without having to worry about everything falling apart.
And that, in and of itself, feels like a reason to give him a chance.
Chapter Thirty-Two
DREW
“You really don’t have to help me like this,” my mom says, and I pause with one hand on her elbow and one on her lower back. I don’t want to be overbearing, but at the same time, she seems less steady on her feet today than is normal. I don’t know if it’s because her doctor’s appointment and her physical therapy appointment were back-to-back today and she’s tired, or if maybe taking her to her favorite bookstore and out to lunch was just too much. But something’s different.
“Let me get the door for you, at least,” I say, stepping in front of her to unlock the door and push it open. I step through it so she can follow, and because if she trips coming over the raised threshold, I want to be in front of her to catch her.
“I’m fine,” she says, trying to shoo me away once she’s inside. She turns and shuts the door behind her, and she seems more at ease now that she’s back in her home. I try not to spend too much time imagining how scary the world and the future must feel when you’re a Parkinson’s patient. My mom doesn’t let herself go down that path of negativity, so I won’t let my mind go there either. I know that depression is a serious side effect of this disease, but we’ve been lucky so far. “Why don’t you go get a little more work done outside before the sun goes down?”
I glance out the window at the backyard, thinking about how much I could accomplish in the next hour or two. At the same time, I’m a little worried about leaving her, given how she’s been presenting this afternoon. Unsteady. Distracted.
“How about I set up a chair with some blankets for you and you can read out there?”
“You don’t think it’s too cold?” she asks.
“We were just outside, so what do you think? Is it too cold for you?”
I think about all the hours my mom spent in frigid hockey rinks during my lifetime, all the days we built snow forts outside during the winter. It’s a brisk fall day, but it’s nothing like the temperatures this hardy New England woman is used to. But that’s not what bothers me. It’s how frequently she’s unable to make up her own mind about things, or how she second guesses herself, that’s hard to watch.
“We can try and see,” she says after pondering it for a moment.
“Alright. Want me to make you some tea or something?”
