“Who called it off?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“There were lots of reasons. Lots of times it did not feel…right. But we went out to dinner for my birthday, a night she had planned, and it was a fancy restaurant. It was just us; none of my friends or teammates were there. I knew we were different. I thought that was…healthy? But I realized she did not knowmethat night, not just the footballer. We did not agree on enough important things, let alone the small things, like where to eat. I ended it that night. She left the next morning.”
“Was it different when you first met?”
I sigh, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. “No. It was never different.”
“Then why did you propose?”
“I thought it would make our relationship better. Beck got married and had a kid. So had a lot of my other teammates. I wanted that. I have never had a family really. I had only… We were the closest to a serious relationship. I thought that things felt different with Juliette because I was older. I did not realize I was comparing being in love to…not being in love.” I glance over as I add that last part, wanting to gauge her reaction.
Claire bites her bottom lip, blinking rapidly as she stares at the empty field.
I turn my head, looking at it too. Maybe it doesn’t change the past, but I don’t regret saying it.
The clock above the scoreboard shows it’s seven thirty.
“I have to go,” I say reluctantly. “Beck is landing at eight. I am picking them up from the airport.”
“Them?”
“Saylor and Gigi came too. They are only here for a couple of nights, and then they are going to visit Saylor’s family.”
“Oh. Okay. Have, uh, have fun.”
“Thanks.” I nod. Then stand.
“I’m going to pay you back.”
“Fine.” I start walking down the aisle.
“And, Otto?”
I glance back.
She’s staring after me, a small smile tipping up the corners of her mouth. “I was in love too.”
My grandfather calls while I’m driving to the airport. Anyone else, I wouldn’t answer. I’m busy replaying my conversation with Claire in my head.
But it is Opa. And he rarely calls, let alone when it’s the middle of the night for him.
So, I answer.
“Hallo, Otto.”
“Opa.Hallo. Is…is everything okay?”
“Fine,” he grumbles.
I was expecting a problem. An issue with the house or something concerning Mila.
“Has your hip been bothering you?” It’s the only thing I can think to ask him about.
“No. They did a fine job, fixing me up.”
