“Do you think you’ll reach out, though? Now that he retired?” she asks.
“I... I think so. Let’s see how it plays out.” I lower my menu completely. “For all I know, he probably has a girlfriend, or girlfriends, or a wife.”God, I feel sick to my stomach when I say it aloud.
“I would tell you if he got married.” Prescott rolls his eyes and shakes his head.
He doesn’t confirm or deny the rest, which kills me, but I asked for this. If he actually retires and stays that way, I’ll ask Prescott for more information. The last thing I need is to show up and see him with a girlfriend or a puck bunny. I think I’ll actually die if that happens — stupid, stupid feelings.
“This is the ex you’re talking about?” Wade asks, pointing up, “The hockey guy?”
I nod. Wade plays pro soccer and doesn’t know shit about hockey, so he’d never heard of Lach until one of us brought him up one day; Marissa filled him in on “all the gossip” while I sat there pretending that hearing it didn’t kill me. She left out the part about the attack and made it seem like I just up and left him because I wanted him to chase his dreams without holding him back. It’s the closest to the truth she could say, without getting him to ask questions.
“Yeah,” I say quietly.
“You’ve been here a little over three years now,” Wade says, looking at me like I’m an alien. “Of course, he’s moved on. Soccer is arguably the least popular sport in America, and women always launch themselves at me.”
Across from us, Marissa laughs. Prescott looks like he’s trying not to. I just stare at Wade.
“Thank you for enlightening us on how much ass pro athletes get,” I say. “I have friends who play in the league too, you know.”
Not that I talk to them anymore, but I don’t have to talk to them to know he’s right. I’d just rather not hear about it.
“So,” Pres starts. I look at him. “I saw Banks the other day. He asked about you.”
“Oh?” My heart squeezes when I think about my friend. He’s the only one I truly regret not being able to speak to, these days.
“I told him I’d seen you once or twice and that you talk about him all the time.” He smiles sadly.
I pick up my menu again. My own father stopped asking Pres about me. He did hound him a lot in the beginning, I'll give him that, but then he just stopped. According to Prescott, my father is actually really hurt by me leaving without saying goodbye. I don’t know if I believe that. I toss all thoughts of my dad in the trash bin inside my head, along with everything else I hate to think about. We spend the rest of dinner talking about other things, like the popular Broadway show coming soon and how tickets sold out immediately, since this is more of a young professionals and college city. The kids live out in the ‘burbs and only drive in this way for sports and museums. Whenever something kid-friendly comes around, the parents rejoice that they have a new place to take them, and the shows sell out in less than ten minutes. I like that about this place. It’s a great city, but it has a small-town charm. Not everyone knows each other, but if you go to the same places all the time, you’ll see the same people.
As the night goes on, we all have too many drinks and share some laughs, which is nice. This is normalcy — grabbing dinner and drinks with friends without worrying about anything. That’s the kind of stuff that’s priceless to me. Well, it came with a pretty hefty price, considering I lost the only man I’ve ever been in love with, but aside from that, it’s okay. When we’re done drinking and eating, we head outside, where Marissa suggests we go to a nightclub a couple of blocks down.
“I don’t know, Mar.” I purse my lips.
“Come on, Lyles. It’s Marissa’s birthday,” Pres says. “And we haven’t celebrated you finishing med school!”
“Well, we celebrated it but you weren’t here,” Marissa says. “BUT it’s my birthday! Come on, Lyles.”
“And you’ve never been to a club,” Pres says.
“You’ve never been to a club?” Wade screams. “How?”
“I don’t like people. That’s how.”
He frowns. “You work with kids all day.”
“Okay then, I don’t like adults.”
He stares at me for a moment. “Let’s just go for a little while. If you want to leave, I’ll walk you home.”
“Fine.” I sigh. “I’ll go, but know I’m going to hate every second of it.”
“You hate every second of every day, unless you’re surrounded by kids or working at Tackle, so. . .” That’s Prescott, who didn’t hear Wade’s previous statement. He and Marissa agree with Pres, earning a middle finger from me, which makes them laugh.
I’m pretty sure I laugh too. I’m so tipsy that as we walk in that direction, my curiosity gets the better of me and now I’m dying to see what the hoopla about dance clubs is about.
CHAPTER24
DELILAH
