“Does the guy who asked you out know about Eric?”
She sniffles. “Yes. He’s the father of one of Jasmine’s friends. He’s divorced.”
“Do you like him?”
She sighs heavily. “I just can’t do it. I can’t let myself go there. Not when Eric is still here. I feel ashamed.” Her words are thick with emotion as she tries to express how she feels. She and Eric had so many plans for their future, and now Kylie has to live a life without him. “I get to walk around every day and watch our daughter dance and feel sunshine on my face and so many other things, and he can’t anymore. How can I do that to him?”
“Are you still in therapy?”
“I stopped going last year because I thought I was doing okay.”
“You need to start going again.”
She clears her throat, her voice sounding stronger as she says, “I thought about it, but I’m not going back to therapy just so my therapist can validate the fact I’m considering cheating on my husband.”
“Kylie…”
“We’re still married,” she insists. “I promised him for better or worse.”
“I know.”
She starts crying again, and I feel a physical ache in my chest.
“You’re the only person I felt I could talk to about this,” she says. “I knew you wouldn’t judge me.”
Fuck. She’s called me three times in the past four days. I knew she’d text me if it was an emergency, but I feel like a raging asshole now.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to call you back. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ve had some time to think it over and come to a decision I’m comfortable with. It’s not the right thing for me.” We wait a minute on the phone together while she collects herself and I hear her take a deep breath. “Anyway, can we talk about something else now?”
“Anything you want.”
“Jasmine wants to come visit you.”
“Absolutely. Anytime. I’d love to see you guys. We can plan some kid-friendly tourist things.”
“Yeah, I’ll look at the school calendar and we can plan something soon. Jasmine tells all her friends about her Uncle Pike, the famous hockey player who takes her out to fancy restaurants in sparkly Las Vegas.”
I smile. “You know you two are my favorite dates of all time.”
“It’s really good to hear your voice.”
“You, too. I wish you’d consider my offer to help you guys move here.”
She sighs, but I detect a smile in her voice. “You know I appreciate it, but we can’t move there. Jasmine has friends here and school, and Mom is here. Eric is here.”
“Mom can come, too. And I can have Eric moved here. And get this—there are actual kids in Vegas.” I can’t help but add in some playful sarcasm. “Jasmine can make new friends.”
“I think my boss just pulled in; I have to go,” Kylie said. “But I will think about it.”
“Call me anytime. Love you, sis.”
“Love you, too.”
That night, my friend Jonah West grins as he pulls me in for a bear hug.
“What’s up, man?” he asks.
“Good. Things are pretty much the same. How are you?”
“I’m doing really well. Did I tell you that Rey and I are expecting?”
I smile and wrap him up in another hug. “No, you fucking didn’t. That’s fantastic news, brother. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“And you’re doing okay with everything? A baby is a really big deal.”
His smile falters a little and I hope I didn’t say the wrong thing. “It opened up some old wounds at first, but yeah, I’m good. We’re really excited.”
Jonah is the goalie for the Chicago Blaze, and has been for a long time. He’s also one of my best friends. A few years ago, he lost his first wife, Lily, suddenly and unexpectedly. She passed away when she was early on in her pregnancy with their first child. That was a really tough time, but he ended up getting married again, to an FBI agent named Rey, and I can’t think of two people who will make better parents than them.
“She’s five months along,” he says, his eyes shining with happiness. “It’s a boy.”
“Wow. Jonah junior. That’s amazing, man.”
We’re at a downtown Chicago bar grabbing a drink after a game between the Chicago Blaze and Las Vegas Saints. They edged us out 2–1. At least Jonah didn’t get a shutout, so I don’t have to listen to him gloat too much.
“What about you?” he asks me. “Dating anyone special?”
I shake my head adamantly. “This beast can’t be tamed.”
“How old are you now?”
“I’m twenty-eight, man.”
He chuckles and says, “You’re practically a spring chicken! You’ve still got plenty of time.”
“What the fuck is a spring chicken? Actually, forget I asked. I just can’t imagine only being with one woman for the rest of my life. No offense. I know it works for you, but if you’re committed to one woman, you can’t chase after anyone else. That just seems…unnatural to me.”