I’m washing dishes at the kitchen sink when I see Jameson pull up to the back door. He’s out of his car and up the back steps so fast that I’m certain something is wrong, and when we lock eyes through the window, my stomach drops. He looks pissed.
Then the back door flies open, and he takes up the whole frame, blocking out what little light is left now that the sun sets by dinner time. The faint orange tinge to the sky is an ominous backdrop to his imposing size.
“What the hell’s wrong?” I ask my brother.
“I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to answer me honestly.”
I try to swallow down the lump that rises in my throat and the result is an audible gulp. “Okay.”
He shuts the door behind him and takes a step closer. He towers over me, but I don’t shrink in his presence. It’s not that he would ever use his size to intimidate me or anyone else, it’s just that sometimes I think he forgets how big he is.
“Is something going on with you and Drew?”
I don’t look away, but I don’t give him what he wants, either. “What would make you ask that?”
“Because it’s obvious he’s interested in you, and he’s out for tonight’s game…with strep. How did he get strep, Audrey?”
Fuck. Drew didn’t tell me he’s sick, so I wasn’t prepared for this. So much for not being able to get strep because he doesn’t have tonsils!
“Yes, something’s going on, but it’s not what you think.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
I obviously wasn’t planning on saying anything to him until I’d talked to Drew about this once he’s back. But now that Jameson is standing in my kitchen, demanding answers, I don’t feel like I can keep lying to him.
“Hold on,” I say, grabbing my phone off the counter and swiping to the photo I took of Drew and Graham together the night we got cookies—the photo I’d taken because of how much they looked alike at that moment. I hold the phone out and he takes it, his eyes narrowing as he studies the photo.
“Shit.” The word is low, almost a whisper on a long exhale. Then he looks back to me, our eyes meeting, and neither of us says anything. Finally, he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I explain about Drew not returning any of my calls or messages. “I was afraid that if I told you, you’d try to ruin his career. It wouldn’t be the first time,” I remind him, and our eyes lock over the situation our family never talks about.
Handing me my phone, he crosses his arms, then leans back against the kitchen counter. He bites the corner of his lip as he thinks—a classic Flynn trait that all three of us do when we’re thinking. “You were probably right.”
“Drew swears that if he’d known, he’d have been there for us.”
“You don’t sound like you believe him,” Jameson notes.
“It’s complicated. I don’t know if twenty-two-year-old Drew would have been the father to Graham that I needed him to be.”
“And twenty-eight-year-old Drew?” Jameson asks.
“He seems a lot more mature now—serious even. I know what his reputation is, but…I don’t know how much of that is perception rather than reality. He says he wants to step up and be the father Graham deserves. But it’s complicated. He’s got a lot on his plate with the team and his family—”
“What’s going on with his family?”
He hasn’t told Jameson about his mom? With Drew requesting the trade, how is that even possible?
“That’s not my story to tell. So anyway, he wants to be involved in Graham’s life, but we haven’t figured out yet what that looks like, or how we’ll tell Graham. Which is why we haven’t said anything to you or anyone else yet.”
“What about you and Drew?” Just the mention of us in the same sentence has my heart responding with a flutter. One that I try very hard to ignore.
“There is no me and Drew.”
“Why not? His interest in you is blatantly obvious. Even though I told him to stay away from you—”
“Asshole move, by the way. You aren’t in charge of my love life.”
“Just trying to protect you, Audrey.”
“I don’t need protecting. I need you to respect the fact that I’m an adult, and a mother, and completely capable of making my own decisions about who to get involved with. And I’ve already decided that nothing’s going to happen between me and Drew.”
“Why not?”
Is he for real? Didn’t he just say I shouldn’t get involved with Drew? “Because it’s not what’s best from Graham.”
“Why?”
“Because what if it didn’t work out? Need I remind you what happened when Scott and I broke up?”
“Just because Scott was an asshole, doesn’t mean Drew would do the same thing.”
“It’s still not a chance I’m willing to take. Graham needs his dad in his life more than I need Drew.”
“Okay, so if nothing is going on with you two, how did Drew get strep?”
“On Thursday night when you guys had practice and he found out how sick I was, he came over and took me to get a strep test. He carried me to his car, and then back into the house afterward, because I was too weak to do the stairs. He didn’t think he could get strep because he’d had his tonsils out.”
Jameson coughs out a laugh, like it’s common knowledge that you don’t need tonsils to get strep, but I didn’t realize it was possible, either.
I push off the counter I’m leaning against, opposite him, and walk through the entryway to the bottom of the stairs. “Graham,” I call up to him, “is your bag packed yet? Uncle Jameson’s here.”
“Almost!” he calls down.
I turn back toward my brother. “Thanks for taking him tonight.”
“No problem.”
“What are your plans with him and the twins?” I ask as I grab Graham’s school folder off the kitchen table and put it in his backpack. Jameson is taking Graham back to his house, then Lauren will come meet me, Jules, Morgan, and Lauren’s sister Paige, for a girls’ night. Even though we’re just grabbing dinner and drinks, Graham will spend the night at Jameson and Lauren’s. Tomorrow morning, Jameson will drop Graham off at school on his way to his office.
“I made a big batch of homemade mac and cheese the other night, so we’re going to have leftovers and watch a movie. Then after they’re in bed, I’m going to watch the Rebels game.”
I look at my brother, standing there in his custom-made suit with the top button of his shirt undone and no tie. His neatly trimmed facial hair is the same as ever, but his dark eyes don’t look tired like they used to.
He’s happy. The man who’d retired from the NHL to raise me and Jules, built a thriving sports agency where he represents the who’s who of the NHL, and who swore up and down that he didn’t want a wife or kids of his own, is engaged and happier than I’ve ever seen him. This realization never fails to shock me, no matter how many times I consider it. Eventually I’ll get used to it.
“What?” he asks as I stare at him. Of the three of us, he and I look the most alike because of our fair skin and dark hair.
“I’m just happy to see you so happy,” I say.
He rubs his palm along his jaw and gives me a sheepish smile that’s so unlike him. “Yeah. I really am.” He shakes his head slightly, as if he can’t even believe it himself.
“Good.”
“I want this for you and Jules, too,” he says, his voice quiet. “But Audrey, I don’t know if Drew is—”
“It’s none of your business, Jameson,” I remind him. “I’m not a kid anymore, and the over-protective big brother vibe is not necessary. He’s getting to know Graham, and I want that relationship to develop. I already said I’m not going to fuck it up by getting involved with him.”
Jameson looks like he’s going to say something, but Graham comes barreling down the stairs, and so my brother gives me a succinct nod, like he agrees, then turns his attention to my son.
“So,” I say once we’re all seated at the table and the waiter has taken our orders, “Jameson and I had…a moment…earlier tonight.”
Lauren bursts out laughing. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“Yeah,” Morgan says, “because that sounds…borderline inappropriate.”
I don’t have to imagine the look of horror on my face—I can tell it’s there by the way my sister and friends laugh in response.
“No, like, we almost had a fight.”
“Why’s that?” Jules asks, sounding like she knows exactly why. Even though I didn’t tell her when she got home, because I didn’t feel like telling this story twice, she does know. She’s been telling me Jameson was going to figure it out soon. And surprisingly, him knowing and me therefore being free to talk to Lauren, Morgan, and Paige about it, is freeing.
It was hard enough to keep Graham’s paternity a secret for the last six years. But it’s been infinitely harder since Drew has been back in Boston.
I shoot my sister a look, then turn my attention to the rest of the table. “Because I finally told him who Graham’s father is.”
“Oh my God,” Lauren says, pressing her hands together like she’s praying, “please tell me he took it okay?”
“Wait,” Morgan says, looking at Lauren. “You know who Graham’s father is? Did I miss out on some sort of news brief?”
“You and me both,” Paige says. “Am I just traveling for work so much that you guys don’t keep me in the loop about big news like this?”
Paige is a couple of years older than Lauren, who is a couple of years older than me. She has her own circle of friends—people she’s known since college and others she’s met at work. But I love it when she’s around because she has a quick wit and a dry sense of humor. She actually reminds me a little of Lauren’s friend Petra, all badass career woman, who takes no shit from men.
“No, I hadn’t told anyone—ever—except for Jules—”
“You knew all this time!” Lauren says, her eyes wide. “And you didn’t say anything? I didn’t even think you were capable of keeping a secret, much less lying about it.”
Jules just laughs as she tugs her loose boatneck sweater back onto her shoulder. “Just because I call things like I see them doesn’t mean I don’t know how to keep my sister’s biggest secret.”
“Anyway,” I say, facing Morgan and Paige, “Lauren kind of figured it out a couple weekends ago because I walked into her backyard and saw Graham’s father standing there talking to my brother.”
“Holy shit!” Paige says, and her face lights up. “I need the whole story, now!”
So I recount everything that’s happened over the last two and a half weeks, ending with Drew getting diagnosed with strep today.
“Wait, so he’s back in your life…you’re attracted to him…he wants you…and you’re not letting that hottie rail you every chance you get?” Morgan asks. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What part of ‘doing what’s best for Graham’ wasn’t clear?” I take a sip of my water. “And how do you know he’s hot? You don’t even follow hockey.” Morgan’s dad was Jameson’s sports agent when he was in the NHL and gave him his first agenting job once he retired. While Morgan knows a ton about every professional sport by virtue of growing up with her dad as her sole caregiver while her mom was off running all over the world, marrying a new guy every few years, she doesn’t really follow any sports as an adult.
“Uhh, I was there, remember? At Lauren’s, the night you’re talking about? We all were. And even though you and Jules left almost immediately after arriving—and now we know why—the rest of us stayed. I talked to Drew. He seemed like a pretty nice guy.” She tilts her wineglass toward her lips, but before it makes contact, she lowers it again and says, “And he’s hot. Like, let’s not overlook that fact. Is this why you wouldn’t let me set you up on any of the dating apps?” Her jaw drops, and her eyes widen like she’s just made a huge discovery.
When my cheeks redden, Lauren slaps the table. “Oh my God! You’re holding out for him, aren’t you?”
“No,” I try to laugh it off. “I’m holding him off, is more like it. Besides, I have Karl, and no-strings-attached sex is all I need or want right now.”
“Right,” Jules says the word slowly. “So, when was the last time you and Karl had sex, then?”
I bite my lip, realizing that I haven’t seen Karl since before Drew and I had dinner.
“So not since Drew came back into your life, at least?” Paige asks.
“No. But I had my period, and then I got sick…and, like, this length of time isn’t totally unusual.”
“You have a guy waiting around to bang you whenever you want, and you go more than three weeks without sex?” Morgan asks. “Sounds like he’s either not great in bed, or you’ve just been thinking about Drew.”
Images of the night I woke up on my couch next to Drew flash through my head—a highlight reel of all the ways he touched me, how close I was to letting him get me off even though I was having my period—and my body reacts to the memories as if they were happening, sending a flash of heat and a full-body shudder through me.
Paige laughs. “Oh girl, you have it so, so bad for him.”
I cross my arms under my chest, and as I glance down, I notice how it pushes my cleavage up into the V-neck of my sweater. Suddenly, I wish Drew was here. I wish his hands were on me. I wish so many things that should never be.
“I don’t,” I insist. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t do anything about it because of Graham.”
“If my dad has taught me one thing about hockey players,” Morgan says, “it’s that when they want something, they go after it a hundred and ten percent. So I hope you’re prepared to resist him, because I have a feeling it’s going to be harder than you realize.”
But it won’t be, because Drew is the one with other priorities. And he’s too smart to let his focus wander in a way that could complicate his life even more than it already is. Who knows, we might be the right people for each other, but it is most definitely the wrong time.
