I’m about to counter my visible argument when I get a text, and my heart speeds up, thinking it’s him. But one look, and I see it’s from the WHO RUNS THE WORLD GIRLS chat I have with Vivi, Alex, Julia, Erika, and Jillian.
Alex: I’m in town next week, bitches. Wine night tomorrow at Franny’s place. Who’s in??
Julia: Me.
Jillian: I’m pregnant. I’ll chaperone.
Vivi: I’ll fly in with you, Alex.
Erika: Cooper just groaned reading this, so I’m in. I need a sitter.
Me: It’s BYOB …
Jillian: Shit, can BYOB stand for bring your own baby? The guys are on a road trip.
Alex: Ask my parents to babysit.
Jillian: Oh, good idea.
"This is exactly what you need," I tell myself. "A drunken girls’ night."
Chapter 12
Wilson
My phone rings the minute I step out of the shower, and I grab it. My heart slows down when I see it’s just my mother. I don’t know why I thought it would be her. It’s been a week since I’ve seen her and asked her to dinner, which she turned down. I’ve never been turned down before. So, it was a kick in the nuts and also fucked with my ego, more than I will ever admit.
"Hello," I say, putting the phone to my ear.
"There he is, my son," she says, and my stomach burns. "My only son."
I wrap the towel around my waist and look at the bruise on my hip. We are in the middle of our road trip, and the games have not been easy in the least. Hence the bruise on my hip I got when I got speared in the side last night against Boston. I swear it took a minute for me to catch my breath, and once I did catch my breath, my gloves came off, and I knocked the guy on his ass. It did not end well, especially when they scored on the power play. "What do you need?” I say, not interested in this whole song and dance.
"Can’t a mother just call her son?" she says, and I roll my eyes.
"She can." I walk out of the room, heading for my travel bag. Today was a travel day, so there was no skating, and tomorrow we play Pittsburgh and then Philly before heading back home. "But you aren’t that kind of mother." She gasps out in shock, and I just shake my head. "You can cut the dramatics, Mom. I’m not in the mood."
"You are in some type of mood," she says. "A bad mood."
"Mother, I’m going to hang up unless you tell me what you want." I slip on my shorts when I hear a knock on the door.
"Fine," she hisses. "I was wondering if I can borrow some money from you." I open the door and grab the paper bag that is left there. I opted to eat in tonight instead of going out with the guys. "A couple of the ladies are going away for Christmas," she says as I walk back into the room and place the bag on the table. "And I wanted to join them, but I’m short."
"How much are you short?" I grab the black takeout container and sit in the chair.
"About seven thousand," she says, and I just shake my head. "It’s a Mediterranean cruise leaving out of Greece. We are going to spend a couple of days in Santorini, and then it’s two weeks on the cruise and then another couple of days in Greece before we fly back."
"How much is this vacation costing?"
"Seven thousand one hundred and eighty-five dollars," she says.
I laugh. "Basically, you need me to pay for you to go on vacation?" I point out as I take out the second black takeout container.
"I said I would pay you back," she snaps.
"How?" I ask, opening one of the containers to see it’s a salad.
"I gave up everything for you." She starts sighing.
"Here we go," I say. "Glad you did it for love. Send me the trip details, and I’ll send over the payment to the travel agent."
"You could just send it to me," she says, and I answer right away.
"Last time I did that, I paid for the trip twice," I remind her in case her memory isn’t that good.
"Fine," she huffs out. "It can be my Christmas gift." I laugh even louder.
"So you aren’t paying me back," I confirm with her. "Whatever, Mom, I have to go. Send me the agent details."
I put the phone down and disconnect before I grab the plastic fork and knife, then open the second container with my grilled salmon and steamed veggies. The phone rings again, and I answer it, expecting it to be my mother, and groan when I hear my ex Tiffany’s voice. "You answered." What the fuck is going on today? Is today fuck-with-Wilson day? The two people I don’t want to talk to are calling me, and the one person I would actually like to talk to isn’t giving me the time of day.