“This is much better,” I say, and mean it. The view is spectacular, the food is good, and most importantly, no one seems to recognize him here.
“I should have thought of this in the first place,” he says, pouring wine into our plastic cups. “I forget sometimes that not everyone wants to be part of the circus.”
“Is that what your life is like? Constant attention?”
“In certain places, yeah. Restaurants, bars, anywhere upscale. It’s like I’m public property.”
I study his face in the fading light, seeing fatigue I hadn’t noticed before. “That sounds lonely.”
“It is. Weirdly lonely, actually. All these people who think they know you, but none of them actually do.”
“What do you mean?”
“They know Dex Malone, the hockey player. The stats, the highlights, whatever story the media’s telling about me thatweek. But they don’t know...” he gestures vaguely, “anything real.”
“What’s real?”
He’s quiet for a moment, swirling wine in his plastic cup. “I grew up in a house with four older sisters. My mom still calls every Sunday to make sure I’m eating vegetables. I watch cooking shows even though I can barely make toast, and I fall asleep on my couch more nights than I care to admit.”
“Four sisters?”
“Four. I was the baby, the only boy. They basically raised me while my parents worked.” He smiles, and it’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen from him all evening. “Taught me how to braid hair, how to paint nails, how to listen when someone’s upset without trying to fix everything.”
“That explains why you’re good with kids.”
“Maybe. Or maybe it just taught me that women are actual people with thoughts and feelings, not just objects to be conquered.”
The honesty in his voice surprises me. “Is that how most guys in your position see women?”
“A lot of them, yeah. When you have money and fame, it’s easy to start thinking everyone wants something from you. Easier to keep things surface-level than risk finding out what someone’s real motives are.”
I take a sip of wine, processing this. “So why risk it with me?”
“Because you don’t want anything from me. If anything, you seem determined to keep me at arm’s length.”
“Maybe I have good reasons for that.”
“Maybe you do. Want to tell me what they are?”
I look out at the water, weighing how much honesty this moment can handle. The wine and the unexpected intimacy of our impromptu picnic have lowered my guard more than I intended.
“I was married for eight years,” I say finally. “It wasn’t... good. Took me way too long to leave.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Blythe. She was four, and she came to me after one of his... episodes. Brought me her favorite stuffed animal and said ‘when daddy makes you sad, you can hold Sparkles. He makes the scary go away.’” My voice catches slightly. “That’s when I realized what I was teaching her about what normal looked like.”
Dex is quiet for a long moment. “That must have been terrifying. Starting over with kids.”
“Terrifying doesn’t begin to cover it. But also... freeing? I finally got to make decisions without calculating how someone else would react.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m very careful about who I let into our lives. The kids have been through enough upheaval.”
“That makes sense.”
We sit in comfortable silence, watching the last light fade over the water. The food trucks are starting to close up, couples and families heading back to their cars.
