Strangely, and all at once, I’ve decided I want Fran to meet my mother. For her. Fran is a kind soul, despite her difficult upbringing. She needs good people in her life. And my mom is the best. Knowing her would be a gift to Fran.
I take one bite of my veggie wrap. It’s tasty, and I wonder if Fran made it herself. I chew and think for a minute, wanting to make this decision and not jump on a whim. But at the moment, the only thing I dislike about the idea is that it was Zev’s before it was mine.
“Two things,” I say.
She looks up from her sandwich.
“Yea. First—I sort of brought you a gift.”
Those amber eyes widen. “You bought me something. A man has never bought me anything before. I mean, besides dinner, and half the time, I’m even the one buying that.”
“Whoa. Slow down. And you should not be buying your own dinner. This is why I’m helping you. Wrong men will get you nowhere.”
“You said you brought it?” Her lips purse to the side, and her eyes rove all around me, as if her gift may jump out at her.
“Yeah.” I reach for the bag that she hasn’t noticed yet. She was too busy “swooning” to see that I’d brought something. I hand it over and clear my throat. Why did I buy her my own jersey? What does that say? I just wanted her tohave some team gear. What possessed me to buy my own number?
No taking it back now.
She grins. “Thanks, Cal. This is so sweet of you.” She opens up the bag—no tissue paper. I didn’t think that far ahead. Or maybe I didn’t think at all.Number ten.
I swallow as she pulls the size small jersey from the bag. “You can always return it.”
But she’s already smiling. She’s looking at that jersey like it might be some kind of promise. “I love it.”
“I know the team shop has plenty of Lucca’s number. We can always?—”
“Shut up, loon. I love it. I’m happy to represent Superman.”
I am suddenly warm. I’d love to ditch my tie and unbutton this shirt at the neck.
I nod. “I’m glad you like it.”
“What is number two?” she says before taking a bite of salad.
My nerves are spiked after that gift. What was I thinking? What am I thinking now? And yet—I open my mouth. Words come out. As if Zev were pulling my puppet strings and saying them himself. “Fran, would you want to come home with me? For a visit?”
She dabs at her mouth with a napkin. “Home? As in your apartment?”
“No. As in myhomehome. Where I grew up, in California. My parents still live in Ventura. I’m going home for a party my mom throws every year. She always plans it around one of my breaks. I have three days coming up, and I’m headed home.” I swallow. “Would you want to come? Youcould make fun of the stuffed animals still in my childhood room and soccer posters on my wall.”
“Why would I do that?”
I lift one shoulder. “You wouldn’t. But you could if you wanted to. A childhood bedroom is fair game. It’s next Saturday to Monday. Quick trip.”
Fran nibbles on the corner crust of her bread. “Meeting the family. That’s… big.”
“It’s just an introduction. One friend meeting another friend’s family. Nothing to stress about.”
She nibbles on her lip. “Did Simone?—”
“Yes, Simone met my family. But Fran, it wasn’t what you think. If anything, my family may be nervous about meeting youbecauseof Simone. The fact that you are nothing like Simone is in your favor.”
“What does that mean—nervous about me?”
I clench my jaw. “I’m close to my family. But when Simone and I were together, I somewhat estranged myself from them. It wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t right. But it happened. I don’t want them ever worrying that it’ll happen again.”
Her brows pull together. “I don’t want to worry them either.”
