“Barely? It’s been two weeks. What have you two been doing for two weeks?”
“Avoiding one another.” I twirl my fork around, never biting into my salad, just pushing the lettuce around. “I feel like we’re right back at where we started. But this time, it feels worse. He’s sleeping on the couch—”
“This couch?” she asks, surprised. “How on earth does he fit on it?”
“Not very well. His legs hang off, his neck is all scrunched, and I’ve heard him drop off the side a few times. He can’t possibly be comfortable. I told him he could sleep on the bed, but he refuses. So yeah, it’s been fun, to say the least.”
“Have you talked about the fight at all, or is it just the elephant in the room?”
“We talked about it that night, but ever since then, it’s been like he’s shut down. He only ever asks how I’m doing and if the baby has been bothering me. The other night, I was leaving to get a milkshake, and he stopped me before leaving and went and got it for me instead. But when he got home, he handed me the milkshake and went back to not talking. That is pretty much the extent of our interactions.”
“God, I’d be an absolute wreck. I don’t do well with confrontation. You must be happy that they’re away right now.”
“More than you know.” I finally take a bite of my salad just as the puck is dropped and the game begins.
“Are you going to throw him a bone and talk to him?”
“I’m not even sure what to talk to him about.”
“Well, what were you guys doing before the fight?”
I think back to two weeks ago and shake my head in disbelief. “I threw up in his shoe that morning. He was telling me it was okay. It was one of the first times I saw his compassion. He was sweet and kind and didn’t make me feel like a fool. Nor was he angry. I wish we were there again.”
“Then reach out to him. I’m sure he’s not saying anything to you because he’s the one who screwed up. He’s probably looking for forgiveness in some weird way. Maybe texting him might make him feel better and open up more. I’m pretty sure the last thing you want is to be fighting with the man who’s the father of your child. You want to keep things peaceful, so reach out to him.”
“You really think that will help?”
“Guaranteed. I’m sure you two will be back to normal in no time.”
“I’d really like that. I mean, I was really mad about the whole fight thing, but I don’t want it to drive us apart. I just wanted it to be a lesson.”
“Then you need to reach out. Trust me, this will work.”
I sigh and glance at the TV just in time to see Eli check somebody into the boards and shoot the puck over to Posey, who passes it to Holmes. Winnie is right. I need to close the gap between us, and if that means sucking up my pride to say something, then I will.
* * *
Penny:Good game tonight. You guys looked great out there.
I stare at the text message as my stomach churns with nerves. Reaching out to him like this feels awkward. I’m not sure he’s even going to respond. I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. Two weeks is a long time to share a living space and not talk. But they’re on a long road trip this go-around, so it might be good to try to patch things up now when we aren’t necessarily face to face.
Yes, that’s the immature way of thinking, but listen, I’ve been thrown for a loop here. I’m juggling this pregnancy with trying to keep things calm with the father of my child. If I want to hide behind text messages to make things better, then so be it.
No judgment!
Lying in bed, I open the team’s TikTok app to scroll through fan messages and comments when at the top of my screen, a text comes through from Eli.
Bracing myself, I click on it and read.
Eli:Thanks. It was a needed win. How are you feeling?
His go-to question. It’s what he asks almost every single day but doesn’t extend the conversation after my typical answer of “okay.” I’m worried he might do the same thing here.
Penny:Okay. Didn’t have much to eat even though Winnie came over and brought salad and pizza.
After I press send, I quickly exit the text thread because I’m too worried I won’t see him responding. That I won’t see those three dots pop up, telling me that he is engaging. I talked about pizza. That’s opening up the conversation, right? Let’s see if he takes it.
But when he doesn’t answer right away, panic sets in.
