I know there are people all over the world in their mid-twenties who are perfectly settled. Hell, Blake seems to have come out of the womb with his life sorted out. But not those throwing parties in their penthouses, with a different woman on their arm every night or a reputation as Golden City's bad boy. I didn't wait this long to settle down only to beletdown instead.
Drew takes the ice every game to be the center of attention—to make big moves, leave a lasting impression. It's not a bad thing, just not exactly what I'm looking for. I don't want someone who constantly seeks validation from the world. I'm where I am this late in life because Ihaven'tcared what people think.
Even if Drew magically had the epiphany that I had six months ago, it would take him at least that long to get to the point that I'm at—and even I barely have a handle on what the hell I'm doing. Not to mention that I have six years on the guy. I'd have to imagine that growth would be proportional. If it took me half a year to make the switch at my age, it'd take him way longer than that.
As if my mother can hear my ticking clock from across the city, my phone starts buzzing in my bag. When I pull it out,Graceis written across the screen, mocking me with its irony.
"Hello, Mother."
A scoff crackles through the speaker. "Hi, Brooke."
I glance around, finally noticing where I am—leave it to my mother to ground me without even trying. I'm entirely too close to Drippy's coffee not to make a pit stop.
"What's up, Mom," I ask, crossing the street—and my fingers—hoping she doesn't ask me about, well, any part of my life at the moment. My lips tingle with the reminder of Drew's, and I shove the thought of telling my mother a professional hockey player kissed me on the street into my back pocket in case I ever feel like giving her a coronary.
"Are you coming to dinner tonight?"
I reduce my pace leading up to Drippy's as if I'll be able to remember the nonexistent dinner plans we had if I'm moving at a slower speed. "Mom, it's Monday," I say, pulling my phone from my ear to triple check that it is in fact not Family Dinner Night.
"It's also Amy's birthday," she answers back.
Bringing my fist to my forehead, I mouth the wordfuckas I approach the door.
"You forgot, didn't you?"
I roll my eyes. "When did we make these plans again?"
"Via group text on Saturday, Brooke. The one you didn't respond to until you sent a thumbs up emoji at the end of the conversation."
A quick memory rolls through my mind of my phone dinging continuously while I was taking pictures of the team, the drop-down notifications blocking my view. It didn't take long for me to silence the messages. When I finally opened the thread, a few dozen unread texts riddled my screen, and rather than catch up, I sent the emoji blindly instead.
"Oh, that's right," I lie.
"You didn't read them, did you?"
"No, I did, I just—"
"Brooke..."
"I didn't."
I step to the side to let a middle-aged man in ahead of me, smiling at him as if that somehow redeems me. "I'm sorry, Mom, I just had a lot going on this weekend, but I'll be there."
She sighs, and I can visualize her disappointed face on the other side of the line as clearly as the scent of Drippy's tempts me through the cracks in the door.
I didn't forget my sister-in-law's birthday in general. Kelli Cooke's new book is already wrapped in confetti paper and tied up in a satin bow, sitting on my dining room table next to Amy's favorite non-alcoholic wine. But I also didn't know we had dinner. It seems I've had a few other things—and people—on my mind recently.
"What time?" I ask just to further rile Mom up.
"Six, Brooke. Dinner is always at six."
"Like it has been every night for thirty-one years," I say overtop of her same words. "Yes, Mom, I know. I was kidding."
"If only you could build a life on that humor," Mom says passive aggressively, her voice two octaves higher than it normally is. "I'll see you tonight!"
"See you then!" I mock in the cheeriest voice I can muster.
Hitting the end button as fast as I can, I inhale one long, deep breath and shove my phone back into my bag before pulling open the door to Drippy's. I've never needed an extra large cup of caffeine as much as I do right now.
