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“A sitter? Do you have kids?”
After a single note of laughter, he says, “No. The sitter was for my seventy-eight-year-old uncle who lives with me. He’s had two strokes but still thinks he’s fucking Evel Knievel.”
The visual cracks me up. “Wow. Just two bachelors living the dream?”
“Something like that.”
“I’ve been doing some babysitting myself,” I say.
“Oh yeah?”
“For my roommate Anita’s four-year-old son Dre. He’s a riot.”
“I didn’t know you lived with anyone.”
“Yeah, she rented me a room when I first left Adam. I didn’t even have enough money for the first month’s rent, but she let me pay it after I got a job.”
“And you guys get along pretty well?”
I smile. “Yeah. It was rocky at first, but things have been good lately.”
“Well, you look good. I mean, you always look good, but you look happier than before.”
“Thanks. I feel happier. I think it’s just…time, partly. Finding myself. That sounds so cheesy.”
“No, I get it.”
Our conversation is flowing so easily that I’m bummed when Anton parks in front of my building. I stifle a yawn.
“Better get some sleep,” he says.
“Yeah, Dre will be waking me up at seven.”
“I’ve got a home game tomorrow night, can I pick you up from work after?”
“Actually, I’m off.”
Anton nods. “Want to come to a hockey game?”
I consider it for a second, thinking I could take Dre, but then I shake my head. “Thanks, but no. I can’t risk Adam seeing me, and…I just think him being there would ruin it for me.”
“I understand.”
“Thanks for the ride.”
I open my door to get out of his car, and he gets out to come around and walk me to the door.
“Text me tomorrow if you want,” he says. “Or call, if you’re feeling old school.”
“I will.”
“’Night, Mia.”
“Goodnight, Anton.”Chapter TwelveAntonVic snatches up the open packet of peanut M&M’s from beside me on the bench and empties the whole thing into his mouth at once, then tosses the bag back onto the bench.
“You’re lucky I already got mine out,” I mutter.
He responds even though his mouth is still full of candy. “I think I taste a red one in here, Reverend.”
“Fuck you.”
My teammates hound me not just over my celibacy, but also my pre-game ritual of eating only the red candies out of a small bag of peanut M&M’s. I started doing it my sophomore year in college and I set a Boston College record that season. Ever since, it’s been all about the red peanut M&M’s.
I’m also a left to right dresser. Everything—my shin pads, socks, elbow pads and even my skates—goes on left side first, right side second.
This season I’m also listening to Coldplay before games, and I’ve increased the carbs and decreased the protein I eat on game days. I’m always trying to find the balance my body needs to perform at its best.
I didn’t get my pre-game nap in today because Uncle Dix didn’t approve of the soup I made him for lunch and I had to go pick up something from the deli he likes. Before he moved in with me, I never missed a nap on game day. Fucker’s messing with my nights and my days now.
I finish getting dressed and look up to see Adam in my line of vision. Skates laced, he’s sitting up to stretch his arms and shoulders. I want to go shove him off the bench and tell him he’s not fooling me.
He let the woman he vowed to love and cherish forever walk to work in the freezing cold and hustle for tips to feed herself. He won’t accept that she doesn’t want to be with him anymore and give her the divorce she wants and deserves. And from the look on her face when she talks about him, he made her feel like shit, which is inexcusable.
He’s standing in the way of me and Mia. I know it’s wrong to want my teammate’s wife, but if they aren’t married anymore, I won’t give a shit who she used to be married to. Nothing will stand in my way if I have a chance to be with Mia.
“What?” Adam asks me as he stands up.
“That itch any better?”
He lowers his brows. “What itch?”
“Heard you caught something from a stripper.”
“That’s bullshit.” He scowls. “Who the fuck told you that?”
“I don’t even remember. Heard a bunch of guys talking about it.”
“They’re fuckin’ liars, then. Probably just jealous. I use rubbers.”
I laugh. “Yeah, ’cause it’s so hard to get with strippers.”
“I don’t see you getting laid. What, you like dick now?”
“I just don’t need to tell the whole fucking world my every fucking move.”
Adam laughs and turns to Luca. “You notice he didn’t deny liking dick?”
Luca gives him the side-eye and ignores him.
“Asshole,” I mutter.
Adam walks over to my bench. “What’d you say?”
I raise my voice so I’m almost yelling. “I said you’re an asshole. ASS. HOLE.”
