Our first plant together. This will be good practice. A bamboo palm for you to care for. Under no circumstances are you to think of me every time you look at it. I don’t miss you.
Your champion
Good practice for what? I shake my head. Colt is a puzzle. I drop my purse and box of school supplies on the floor, grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and walk into my bedroom. Just as I get my shirt off and tossed aside, I hear my phone ring. Mother flashes across my screen, and I hit decline, telling myself that I’ll call her in the morning. I’m too exhausted now to deal with any of her guilt trips and requests to get together.
By the time I shower and put on a clean pair of shorts and tee, I’ve missed three calls from Colt. It’s almost eight on the west coast and almost eleven here. Before I get a chance to slide into bed and call him back, my phone vibrates again.
“You’re not missing me, are you?” I ask.
“Nope. Just calling to make sure you’re not missin’me. Better not be.”
“I’m not. Haven’t thought about you once all day.”
He lets out a laugh and then yells something away from the phone. I hear a door open and close. “I’m going to FaceTime you.” He ends the call, and seconds later, my phone vibrates with a FaceTime request.
“I had forgotten what you look like,” I tell him. “You’re still ugly.”
He runs a hand over his face and says, “I beg to differ. I’m the handsomest man on earth.”
“Don’t you wish.”
“That’s what Mama always says.”
“OMG. Enough with your mama.” I make a face at him and roll my eyes. “Loser.”
“You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” I can feel myself blush at his words.
“Obviously.” He stares at me as if he’s trying to read my mind. Uncomfortable from that kind of scrutiny, I say, “You look tired.”
“So do you, darlin’. I’m going to make sure we win tomorrow so I can have a few days off before the finals.”
“You’ve got this, Chastain. You’re going to win.”
“Did you think about what we talked about this mornin’?” I put him on hold and drink my water. When I get back on the phone, he’s smiling, and my heart rate picks up at the sight of his dimple.
“You need a haircut.” He messes the mop of hair on his head and pulls it.
“You should see me after the season. I let it grow out over the summer. Mama hates it too. You two have so much in common.”
“Time to cut the cord, Chastain. You’re almost thirty. Yes, I’ve thought about what we talked about.”
“And?”
“And I was being withholding. And I’ll come to Alabama with you and meet whoever you want to introduce me to. I’ll even smile and make polite conversation.”
“And what about Sunday dinners?”
I raise my eyebrows and say, “You want to fly to Alabama for Sunday dinner with Mama each week? I’m down but only if there’s wine.”
“I’ll get you some grape juice, but my point is, I want us to be in each other’s lives. For family dinners.”
“Well, you better be prepared to shovel the evil one’s mac and cheese down your throat.”
TWENTY-THREE
We lose the fifth game.Despite scoring thirty points and having ten assists, we lose by two points, and the team is deflated on the flight home. Everyone’s quiet, but Coach Walsh gives us a pep talk and reminds us there are two games left, and we only need to win one. The next game is on our home turf, giving us the advantage. Not even the speech can ease my disappointment. I barely sleep on the flight home, and it’s almost seven o’clock the next morning by the time the plane lands in New Jersey. My driver is waiting, and I climb into the back seat, not bothering to say goodbye to my teammates.
Myra is making breakfast by the time I get home an hour later. Evan comes running into my arms and I lift him off his feet and hold his little body against mine. I kiss his cheek, and he giggles before he wipes it.
