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Our silence comes to an end after we order and Marc asks, “So, how do you know Scott and Sylvia?”
“Truth or white lie?” I ask after a large swallow of my margarita. Might as well go all in. Maybe if I tell him some of my issues upfront, he’ll decide I’m carrying too much weight and walk away.
There’s no hesitation. “Truth.”
Well, he asked for it. “I’m Scott’s sister-in-law.”
“Sylvia is your sister?”
“No. I’m married,” I stop, swallow hard, and correct myself. “I was married to his brother.” God, I need more alcohol. Marc is just staring at me. “He died.”
“I’m so sorry,” he immediately replies. The sincerity in his tone is overwhelming.
Might as well go whole hog. Or at least, half hog. There are some things he shouldn’t know about. “We got married right out of high school. He died almost six years ago.” Okay, maybe I can’t do this. I focus on something else. “Sylvia has been pushing me to date because according to her, it’s time. Maybe it is. I don’t know.” My eyes water, so I pause to drink more. “I...” My voice cracks and the words vanish from the tip of my tongue.
“You don’t have to say more,” Marc tells me softly.
For some reason, that pisses Tipsy Elizabeth off. “You want to get to know me, don’t you?” He nods. “He’s part of me. You can’t know me without knowing him, Marco.”
“Then tell me.”
He’s serious. I don’t understand. Any other time I mention a dead husband, the guys gladly cut me loose, and here this oddball is wanting me to tell him all about it?
“He loved hockey,” I find myself saying. “It’s how he died, and why I struggle to be around the ice. He wasn’t a pro like Scott. He always told me that while he loved the game, he didn’t have Scott’s work ethic. When I went to the game the night we formally met, I sat outside the box because I couldn’t handle sitting with everyone else and watching.
“So, I hope you’re not looking for someone who can go to games to cheer you on because I can’t. I don’t know why Sylvia thought we’d hit it off because that seems like such a huge thing. I mean, she tries to go to at least one game a week because she loves being there to support Scott, and I know he loves it.
“I like my life. It’s unfulfilling, but it’s working for me. You already know I’m a bank teller. I quit school when Roger died. Never went back. I’m starting to think Sylvia set me up with a lot of bad dates, hoping I’d see you and be glad she finally set me up with a good one. Pretty sure you’re why she insisted I go to that Halloween party, too. All she said was that one of Scott’s friends was hosting it. I didn’t know it was the team
. I guess I should apologize for that night. I’d been drinking and well, I stopped thinking.”
“I tried finding out who you were,” Marc interrupts.
“Why?” I bluntly ask. Food has arrived so I’m alternating between eating and drinking.
“Because there was just something about you that I couldn’t stop thinking about.”
I snort. “Sure that wasn’t just Ivy?”
“It was you,” he says pointedly. His gaze is unsettling.
I clear my throat. “I want to know about you and your life.”
“I like to have fun, to laugh, and to play hockey. You were my one and only hookup. I’m a guy built to be a hockey player, a friend, and a boyfriend. Noah Ramsey is my best friend and Meredith is like a sister to me. I’m an only child.”
“You must have been a handful for your parents.”
Marc shrugs. “My dad raised me. What about your parents? What are they like?”
“I don’t want to talk about them,” I quickly answer.
He raises an eyebrow at me. “You want to ask me about my parents, but don’t want me to ask you about yours?”
“Right.” I nod.
“That’s not fair.”
I sigh. “My parents don’t speak to me anymore. I did something unforgivable, which I’m never going to talk about, so don’t ask.”
