My father walked over to Maddox, giving him a fist bump. Throughout the game, they’d talked about technique. I could tell my father was impressed with Maddox’ skill, which was no small feat. Mom seemed to like him too. She’d asked him several questions about his life. Ever the educator, she’d been curious about his education. I was shocked to find out he’d dropped out of college as a freshman and never went back. I figured that would be a huge strike against him in my mother’s eyes, but she’d surprised me when she admitted that college wasn’t for everyone. And LJ? Maddox had said the magic words early on—Detroit Pistons fan. From there, the two had plenty to talk about.
When the game ended with me once again in last place and Maddox in first, we packed up our stuff and said our goodbyes. For dinner, we decided on Vinology, a restaurant and wine bar on Main Street in downtown Ann Arbor.
“I thought you weren’t drinking today?” Maddox asked.
I peered at him over the rim of my wine glass. “So youwerelistening.”
“Not entirely. I kind of tuned out the flirtatious vibe you had with ol’ boy.”
“You caught that too, huh?”
“But you turned him down when he asked for a date.”
I twisted my glass. “I did.”
He pinned me with his intense stare. “Why?”
“I think you know why.”
“Maybe I just want to hear you say it.”
We’d segued easily from topic to topic during dinner. As we dined, I found myself wishing the night wouldn’t end. Maddox was so funny. He had a dry sense of humor that cracked me up. What I enjoyed most was that he was honest, direct. He didn’t talk over me, but he didn’t let me monopolize the conversation either. He was engaged—andengaging.
“I couldn’t imagine spending more time with Carl,” I admitted. “He was attractive, but…” I held his gaze. “He wasn’t you.”
After he paid the bill, we walked down Main Street. It was still early, so Ann Arbor was still buzzing with activity. The Christmas lights brightened the way, off in the distance carolers were singing “Angels We Have Heard on High,” one of my favorite songs once upon a time.
“So you only drink Dr. Pepper when you’re with your father?” he asked.
I hunched a shoulder. “Mostly. He’s a recovering addict, so we make an effort not to partake when we’re around him. Even though, he’d never ask us to do so. It’s kind of like a tribute to him and everything he’s been through.”
“I like that. My mother hated the taste of alcohol, so we would crack open the sparkling cider for dinner.”
“Why?”
“Reminded her of her parents. She would always lecture me about my beer habit.”
I giggled. “Speaking of… You ordered an exotic beer when we first met. And I can’t remember the name to save my life.”
He grinned. “No telling. Ten years ago, I’d just started getting into craft beer. It could’ve been anything.”
“It’s funny how memory works. One small detail can eclipse a wealth of larger ones.”
He eyed me curiously. “Are we still talking about beer?”
“Not really. Just thinking about how this is the first Christmas season that I’ve enjoyed in a long time.”
“I wasn’t aware you didn’t like the holidays.”
For years, I’d abhorred December because the month was a reminder of my failure. Yuletide, carols, trees, and even snow reminded of my wedding, my divorce, and my fucked-up marriage. “My ex was a Christmas nut,” I explained. “He insisted we marry during the season because it was his favorite time of year. I thought that meant he was a good guy because whatbadguy liked Christmas, right?”
“What happened between you two?”
“He was a cheater.” Marv’s wandering eye hadn’t been a secret when I agreed to marry him. I’d just pushed all doubts aside so that I could be with him. “When I met you, I’d just discovered a text from the woman he’d eventually leave me for. Little Miss Christmas.”
Maddox frowned. “Because she likes Christmas too?”
I let out a humorless chuckle. “I guess you could say that, but she was actually crowned Little Miss Christmas in elementary school. I couldn’t stand her, but I thought I loved him. On the wedding day, I knew I was making a big mistake and I cried… But then I married him anyway.”
