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“Hey, Gossip Girl, your giddiness to replay this conversation to Winnie is almost showing.”
He smirks. “You and I both know Win would have my ass if I didn’t tell her all about this. Especially the look on your face while Lex was psychoanalyzing you.”
“I didn’t have a look.”
“Trust me, you had a look. And it should be noted Winnie had a lot to say last night about you helping out Maria and—”
“You think maybe you should get back to focusing on, I don’t know, the game today, or do you want to bring the child psychologist over here and have her evaluate me some more?”
“She got you good, Rem.” Wes laughs. “She got you really good.”
He offers one final pat to my shoulder before heading back toward his office.
Smug bastard.
I love my niece to pieces, but the last thing I’m going to do is start reevaluating my life based on what she’s read in a fucking psychology textbook from Winnie’s medical school days.
She might be Albert Einstein-level smart, but she’s still just a kid.
A kid who doesn’t understand half of the shit I’ve gone through in the past.
Sure, I’ve made amends with Charlotte since then. Hell, I even understand why that marriage, that relationship, didn’t turn out. But that doesn’t remedy the fact that taking another leap like that, experiencing that kind of heartbreak, well, it’s not something I want to volunteer as tribute for. My life is fine the way it is without that kind of complication.
Yet, you seem real keen on staying in contact with Maria…and her life is far from uncomplicated.
Obviously, my niece’s commentary has fucked with my head a little bit.
Maria is someone I’ve known for a very long time. I care about her. Will always care about her. It only makes sense that I would want to be there for her. The shit she’s had to go through is insane. Honestly, it makes my whole being-left-at-the-altar past trauma pale in comparison.
She deserves to have a support system. Someone by her side to help in whatever way they can. And I’m more than happy to be that person for her.
But does that include almost kissing her? Or fantasizing about what it would be like to slide inside her?
I mentally shake those thoughts out of my head and focus on finding Lexi.
It doesn’t take long for me to spot her over by Quinn Bailey, her hands-down favorite player on the Mavericks.
“Ready to go, Lex?” I call toward her, and she meets my eyes briefly before turning back to give Quinn one last high five.
“See ya later, Lex!” Teeny tells her as she walks by him, giving her a high five as well.
“Glad our good luck charm is here today,” Leo Landry adds, offering a little wink.
Once Lex reaches me, her lips are etched into a permanent smile, and her cheeks are so pink and rosy it’s like she’s blushing.
But my niece doesn’t blush.
“Are you feeling okay, Lex?”
“Yes. I’m not experiencing any current symptoms that would raise suspicion for illness.” She nods and I take her hand, but as we walk out of the locker room and down the main hallway that leads toward the inside of the stadium, I about trip over my own feet when she says, “Almost all of the Mavericks have firm butts. Like, really firm butts. Is that what women like on men?”
“Uh…” I blink one thousand times. “I’m sorry, what?”
She looks up at me. “I said almost all of the Mavericks—”
“Lex, I heard what you said,” I cut her off before I have to hear the rest again. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re saying it.”
“It’s an observation, Uncle Rem. I’ve never noticed it before, but I kind of like seeing it. Is that normal?”
What the fuck is happening right now?
“Probably? I don’t know…uh…” I pause, and instead of facing this head on like a man, I quickly pull our tickets out of my pocket and decide it’s a conversation she should have with her mother. “What seats are we in again, Lex?”
She lets out an exasperated breath. “Uncle Rem, we’re in the same seats we always sit in. First row on the fifty-yard line.”
“You know, kid, you’re lucky you’ve got friends in high places,” I comment, trying like hell to keep this conversation heading as far away from football-player butts as I can. “When I was your age, never in my life did I get to sit on the fifty-yard line at an NFL game. Hell, even as an adult, I wasn’t scoring these seats until your mom married Wes.”
She just shrugs off my comment and points toward a concession stand. “Hungry, Uncle Rem?”
“Is this your way of telling me I need to buy my date a hot dog?”
“I am hungry.” She smiles. “I would like a hot dog plus a soda plus a bag of M&M’s.”
