Page 37
“Ten years.”
“Why is that weird? There’s seventeen years between Jeffrey Dean Morgan and Hilarie Burton Morgan and no one blinks at that. There’s nineteen years between Tom Daley and his husband. Thirty-two between Sarah Paulson and Holland Taylor.”
Nolan frowned. “You’re surprisingly well-versed on celebrity age gaps.”
“I went down a rabbit hole a while back because . . . You know what? Doesn’t matter. Tell me about this someone you like.”
“He’s . . .” Nolan clacked his mouth shut. How did he describe Eli? Effervescent? Joyful? Intelligent? Hard-working? What one word encompassed all of those things?
“Why do I get the feeling the age thing isn’t what’s really bothering you?” King said, seeing through Nolan even via phone.
“I don’t know. And it’s not. It’s just easier to focus on than everything else.”
“What’s everything else?”
“Well, he’s one of my dad’s players, for starters,” Nolan said. He heard it for the excuse it was even as he said it.
King made a sound of surprise. “You fell for a jock? Not your usual type. Good for you, switching things up since clearly your usual type isn’t working for you.”
Mildly insulted, Nolan scowled at the phone. “That’s not strictly true.”
“It is strictly true. And the fact that he’s a Trailblazer is a non-issue. What else?”
“It’s not a non-issue. I work for the team,” Nolan reminded him.
“So?” was King’s succinct response. “Do you report to him?”
“Well, no.”
“Does he report to you?”
“No, of course—”
“Then there’s no issue,” King cut in. “So what is the issue? Is he hideous?”
“What? No, he’s—Jesus fucking Christ, I should’ve let the camp counselors send you home.”
King let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, probably.”
“It’s just . . . I dated his sister.”
“Oh,” King said. He went quiet for a moment. “Okay. Yeah, that muddies things. Wait, are you talking about Amber? The astrophysicist? I didn’t realize she has a brother.”
“No, not Amber. I’m talking about someone I dated ten years ago, when I lived in Saskatoon.”
“Oh my fucking god, Nolan,” King said on a growl. “Ten years ago? She’s probably moved on and forgotten all about you.”
Michelle was engaged now, so King wasn’t wrong.
Nolan didn’t bother pointing that out. When he remained silent for a long moment, King sighed and said, “What other non-issue are you going to pull out of the hat now?”
“He’s a friend,” Nolan blurted, finally nailing the real problem on the head. “So it complicates things.”
“You don’t have friends.”
Stung, Nolan accidentally crumpled a corner of Eli’s letter. “Fuck you very much, asshole.”
“Don’t get your boxers in a knot,” King said mildly. “You know what I mean. You don’t let yourself form real connections, yet it sounds like you want to with this guy.”
