Oliver’s shoulders finally relax. “Just a beer, Zo.”
“You want to have a margarita with me?” I ask my sister, hoping she’ll make them too.
“You got it, sis,” she says before she gets up from the table and stalks toward the back of the bar.
“Going for the hard stuff tonight?” he asks me as he sits down in an empty seat, and I take the one next to him.
“Are you judging me?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Just wondering if you weren’t entirely truthful about how the night will go.”
“It’ll be fine,” I tell him. “I just like the taste of a margarita, and Zoey makes the best ones in the world.”
He studies my face, and for a moment, I don’t think he believes me. “We’ll see who’s right.”
I roll my eyes, wishing he’d understand my family is the least judgmental group of people he’s probably ever met in his entire life.
“It’s good to see you again,” my uncle Vinnie says,holding out his hand to Oliver as soon as he’s close enough.
“You too,” Oliver says, shaking my uncle’s hand while maintaining eye contact with him.
“I’m Vinnie. The uncle.”
Oliver gapes as who Vinnie is—or, I should say, was—finally hits him. “Wait a minute.”
Vinnie’s hand stops moving, but he doesn’t let go of Oliver’s. “Yeah.”
“You played football.”
“Yep. A few years.”
“You were my favorite player growing up.”
That’s so sweet. My uncle Vinnie loves to hear from fans, even after all these years. The man adores anything that fuels his ridiculously large ego.
“Shit, I’m a dinosaur. I know that’s supposed to make me feel better, but now I feel ancient.”
“I meant when I was a teenager. You made me want to shoot for playing football professionally. I thought I could do it.”
“And did you?”
I watch the two of them bonding over sports. I hate anything that makes me sweat, and therefore, all athletic things are off the table for me. The moment is sweet.
“No. I went into the service instead.”
“Honorable,” my uncle says, giving Oliver a genuine smile.
“I watched every game of yours besides the fewthat happened while I was at boot camp. No television there.”
“Really?” Vinnie asks.
Oliver nods. “There wasn’t shit. No TV. No newspaper. No phone. No internet. No communication with the outside at all. The world could’ve ended, and I wouldn’t have known the difference.”
“I could never,” Vinnie says softly, shaking his head. “I’m too addicted to my phone.”
“You don’t say,” I tease my uncle. The man is on it a lot, checking his social media and my aunt Bianca’s.
“Zip it,” he says to me with a smirk on his face. “You kids aren’t any better.”
