“She knows, but Mil doesn’t?!” squawks the petite woman on Gilly’s doorstep. “How?! How is that possible?!”
“She was at the photoshoot this summer-”
“This summer?!” She screeches even louder causing us both to cower. “You two have been together since the summer?!” Realization rips through her before we have a chance to explain. “You’re the boyfriend?!” Her large envelope holding hand waves itself around near my face. “You’rethe guy that Mil has been working OT to try to figure out the identity of?!”
“Seriously?!” Gilly huffs in what can only be considered irritation. “He can’t just respect the fact that I’m not ready to tell him his name yet?!”
It’s impossible to keep the pain out of my voice. “You’re still not ready?”
“No, I mean I am,” a hiccup of betrayal forces her to hiss, “I mean I’m not.”
Additional hurt seeps into my expression.
“I mean I am just not like this! Not in passing! Not in passing like I’m not madly in love with you!”
This time shock has me croaking in awe, “You love me?”
“Of course, I love you Jukes,” she adoringly confesses, fingers crossing over to give my t-shirt a tiny tug. “I wouldn’t be helping raise Bronny or considering moving in with you if I didn’t.”
“I love you too, Gillybean,” manages to free itself from my lips before Mari interjects again.
“You’re moving in together?!”
Huh.
We probably shouldn’t be exchanging first I love yous and moving in plans in front of Coach’s wife.
“You have to tell your brother,” she demands with another point of the object she’s gripping. “Immediately.”
“Soon,” the woman beside me negotiates.
“Tomorrow.”
“Not that soon,” my girlfriend denies on a shake of the head, the sound of a car pulling up indicating pizza isactuallyarriving.
“Gillian.”
“He’s dealing with a lot right now, Mari. You know that. He basically just had ‘that’ birthday. Then there’s the Lagunas’s situation. Hedgecomb’s injury. That shit with Ewers and Stroll. Not to mention that racist shit going on with Micah’s mini mite coach.”
Best friends – Queen style.
Yeah, I know they text.
Chat.
A lot.
Often.
Especially when we’re on the road, but I guess sometimes a song break occurs in my head between the fact that it’sherhe’s in contact with and it’shimthat tells her some of our work shit that I don’t even know.
Their closeness doesn’t bother me.
Never has.
It’s her not letting him know it’smeshe’s always talking about that’s wearing on my soul like ice in desperate need of resurfacing.
Is she ashamed?
