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“I’m coming back,” I mumble against her lips.

“I know.” She gives me another kiss. “Go on and leave, so you can come back.” Before you leave me again. Those are her unspoken words.

Yeah, I definitely think I’m not the only one with issues regarding one of us leaving.

“I love you,” I remind her.

“I love you, too.” She smiles.

“I’ll let you know when we land.”

She nods, so I give her one last kiss before leaving. When I climb into Marc’s truck, he seems uncomfortable. The same look that was on his face when I saw him handing her phone back and he knew I caught it.

“So,” he starts. “I feel like I should tell you something.”

I tense, but say, “You mean what you and Meredith were doing before I came out of the bedroom.”

“Yeah.”

When he doesn’t add more, I drawl, “Well?”

“Someone called her phone. She panicked, shoved it at me, and told me to answer. Say that they had the wrong number. I did it for her.”

“Oh.” Part of me wants to say this is good. Vance won’t be calling and putting tears in her eyes without even speaking to her. Part of me says this is bad. I can’t even believe I’m thinking it, but maybe she needs to talk to him. Not talking hasn’t helped her so far. Don’t get me wrong. I would like to get that prick out of her mind once and for all, but he’s connected to whatever she’s hiding from me and her family, and I don’t want her to keep secrets.

“I don’t feel right about it,” Marc says, dragging me out of my thoughts. “The guy sounded like he really needed to talk to her. He was almost desperate-like.”

“It’s her ex,” I tell him. “She’s bound and determined not to speak to him.”

“Do you think that’s the right call?”

“Wish I knew.”

Being on the road isn’t so bad. I talked to Meredith as often as I told her I would. We are one and one so far this season, having lost yesterday’s game. It was a tough loss. There are times when you mostly do everything you can, play the best you can, and make almost all the right plays, but a few bad calls, bad passes, and bad decisions add up. They end up being crucial in a close game. That’s how we lost.

There were long periods of time where no one scored, at least they seemed long. Then, there would be a flurry where either we scored or the other team would score and within two minutes the opposite team would tally a goal.

The true sign of us not doing as well as expected was the expression on Coach Mike’s face. Those bushy eyebrows of his were nearly one, they were pinched so close together. His pale thin lips were flattened, and he wasn’t happy with our performance. Even now, I can hear him highlighting what we did right, immediately following it what we did wrong and how we can improve for the next game, and then wrapping up his speech with, “There’s a reason a season is comprised of a series of games instead of only a handful. Let’s regroup and be better next time.”

I plan to regroup with Meredith as soon as I can get rid of Marc. We’re on our way back to my apartment now.

“Do you think she really cooked us dinner?”

“Probably. She hasn’t responded to my texts.” This is the first time she’s cooked for me. I wonder if she’s a good cook. Hope so, since I know we’re both hungry.

“Gotta say, I like you having a nice girlfriend.”

“What? None of my other girlfriends were nice?” I ask with confusion.

“Not to me. Why wasn’t that a deal-breaker, by the way? Shouldn’t the girlfriend being not nice to the best friend be a deal-breaker?”

I laugh. “Don’t think so. Hell, Meredith wouldn’t even care if my parents liked her or not as long as we were happy.” Well, the old Meredith didn’t care. This one does a little bit. Marc parks and we get out to walk toward the elevator.

“Well, I’m just glad she likes me. You wouldn’t mind sharing her, would you? We both could totally date her. I could get used to not having to cook for myself.”

I throw my empty water bottle at him, hitting him in the head. That should be answer enough.

“I was kidding!” he laughs, rubbing his head as I press the button for my floor.

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