“Hi.”
One gruff word from him and I’m biting my lower lip, wishing he was here. That he was walking in the door of his apartment instead of being miles away.
“Hi,” I reply quietly, sitting down on the couch and tugging a blanket over my lap.
“Where are you?” he says with a small frown.
“Ali’s. But I fed Cat before I left and I’ll go back early tomorrow.”
“Specs, it’s fine. Cat’s used to me being gone. I can call Ralph tomorrow and ask him to go over if you want to stay with Ali.”
I’m already shaking my head because I don’t want to stay here. It doesn’t feel right, even though I know his apartment will feel so empty without him.
“No. I’m going back there tomorrow; I was going to make omelets with Ralph.”
Surprise crosses his face, followed quickly by a slow smile. “You’re gonna do omelets?”
I nod. “If you think he’d like that.”
“I know he would. He’s been bugging me to bring you over.”
“Then I’ll do it. Just cheese, right?”
“Yeah. Don’t even try to sneak in vegetables.” Maverick’s grinning now. “And Specs?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
MAVERICK: That photo of you and Cat made my day, Specs. Talk tonight?
SADIE: Sorry about last night, can’t believe I fell asleep! Good luck today!
SADIE: That was rough. Hope your shoulder is okay.
MAVERICK: This is fucking ridiculous. I miss you. Fucking time zones.
SADIE: Hey! I’m here, just saw you called.Call me back?
MAVERICK: Hey. Shit, I’m just heading out with the guys for some BP before the game. Call you in a couple hours?
SADIE: Darn I’ll be in a meeting.
SADIE: This sucks.
MAVERICK: I know. I’ll be home soon thank fuck.
SADIE: Miss you.
MAVERICK: Same.
The reality check of dating a professional athlete has hit hard these last few days. I guess I was spoiled when Maverick was still on the injured list; he was home all the time instead of traveling with the team.
But now, he’s back playing, and we’re five days into a weeklong stretch of away games, and I’m hating it. The first couple days were fine between the night at Ali’s place and breakfast with Ralph, who has to be the sweetest old curmudgeon I’ve ever met. Honestly, he reminds me a lot of Maverick. Not that I’d ever tell either of them that. But they have the same caring, protective, giving nature hidden under a layer of gruff, grumpy vibes.
But coming home from work to an empty apartment and cooking for one, night after night, doesn’t feel the same. Even if only a few weeks ago that was my reality. I miss Maverick.
And these stinking time zones are making it impossible for us to connect. Taking out my phone, I mentally calculate what time it is for him in Minnesota, where they’re playing tonight. He’ll be on the field, but maybe we can connect when he’s back at the hotel.
