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“Are you sure? Dad doesn’t mind picking you up.”
“I’m sure.”
She seems to think about it before saying, “Okay, but don’t eat lunch on the plane. I’m making prime rib for dinner.”
My mom doesn’t miss a chance to cook for me and my brother. We’re always told to arrive at her house ravenous.
“You don’t want me to eat until dinner?”
“Well, you can eat a little something. But you need to be hungry for dinner at five. Why don’t you just let me make you a grilled cheese for lunch when you get here?”
I smile, wanting to ask her if I should bring some laundry for her to do, too. She’d be thrilled if I did.
“Okay, Mom.”
“I’ll get some of the provolone cheese you like from the deli. And some honey ham.”
“Sounds great.”
She hesitates. “I thought I should mention that Stella is seeing someone. She lives in her mother’s house now, so in case you run into them...I wanted you to know.”
I sit up and pick up my phone, my heart racing. “Who is she seeing?”
“Steve Seaborn. They’ve been seen around town several times.”
I scowl at my phone. “Steve Seaborn? The guy who owns Seaborn Furniture? Isn’t he like forty?”
“He graduated the same year as Mimi Brown’s oldest daughter and she’s thirty-eight now.”
“That’s still eleven years older than Stella.”
Mom sighs. “Well, whatever was going on between the two of you seems to be over, so...it’s up to her who she wants to date, honey.”
“I know, but Steve Seaborn? He’s a runner and he’s skinny as shit. A strong wind would blow him over. And doesn’t he have kids?”
“He’s divorced with three kids.”
“Has she met his kids? Are they serious?”
“Ben, I don’t know. She doesn’t really talk to me much since...the summer.”
I run a hand through my hair, pacing to the other side of the room. “Well, this is bullshit. Someone needs to talk some sense into her.”
“This is going to be a peaceful holiday,” she says sternly. “I get to be with my boys for two nights. We’re going to eat and play cards and exchange gifts and let Stella have whatever holiday she wants to have.”
“Yeah, okay.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’ll see you when I get there on Christmas Eve, okay?”
“Okay. Good luck in your game tonight, honey. We’ll be watching on TV.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
After the call, I put my phone back in my pocket and get on the treadmill for a low-speed walk.
Steve Fucking Seaborn. His furniture store used to sponsor my youth hockey team and he gave us all Seaborn Furniture keychains. Like 14-year-olds need keychains. He’s a distance runner with a twenty-eight inch waist and there’s zero chance he and Stella have the physical chemistry she and I had in Maui.
“What’s up,” Dom says flatly as he walks into the training room.
“Hey.”
“What’s your problem?”
“Nothing.”
He steps on the treadmill next to mine, pushing buttons to adjust the speed. “Well, since you asked, I’m not doing so well today. I’ve got the shits and I’m pretty sure I sprained a finger on a chick’s boob last night.”
Despite my mood, I laugh. “I doubt you sprained a finger on a boob, dumbass.”
“She’s got double Gs and she was riding me like a fucking jackhammer, bro. I was holding onto her tits for dear life and I lost my grip on one of them. It swung into my pinkie finger and it was like a boulder smashing into it.”
“You’re just a pussy.”
He holds his right pinkie in front of me. “Look at it! It’s swollen and purple! Her tits are like bowling balls. I literally couldn’t breathe when I motorboated her.”
I shake my head. “It’s an absolute miracle that so many women will sleep with a man who motorboats them.”
“They love it.”
“It’s about as sexy as honking a woman’s nose during sex, you dipshit.”
“You’re just in a pissy mood.”
I glare at him. “Stella’s dating a guy she could pick up and carry if she wanted to.”
“Stella? Your ex-wife?”
“Stop being an asshole, you know we were never married.”
He grins. “Nothing gets as much of a rise out of you as calling her your ex-wife.”
I turn my treadmill down and slide off the belt, not in the mood for his shit.
“All right, all right,” he says, looking over his shoulder at me. “I’ll stop. Why don’t you go punt this guy like a football and tell her you still love her?”
“She already knows I love her.”
“When’s the last time you told her?”
“When I left Madison in June.”
He shakes his head. “No, man. If you want to be with her today, you have to go tell her today. Don’t assume she knows anything.”
“I have to go stretch.”
“Go tell her!” he calls as I walk away. “I mean, maybe not today because we have a game, but soon.”
I can’t believe I’m getting good advice from Dom, but I think this time he’s right. I thought Stella would call me after she had time to figure things out. Maybe she figured out it’s not me she wants.
