Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 95019 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95019 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Their frowns suggest their sorrow about everything that’s happened, which makes me feel like crap. “I’m not saying I blame you. It was a tricky thing to navigate, but now that things are out in the open, can we make an effort to be more transparent? And no more surprises, at least for a while?”
They exchange a look. “We can do that,” Mom says. “We’re sorry. We know this must have been a lot. It’s been a lot for us too.”
“Now, come on in,” Dad says. “The delivery guy brought extra meatballs. So I hope you came with an appetite, Mart. I can call you Mart, right?”
“Sure thing, and I love meatballs,” Marty replies.
“And I brought over a trivia game,” Mom adds. “So I hope you like games.”
“Oh, not a game,” I groan.
That’s my mom for you.
“Can you just let me know whose team to be on so I can beat him?” Marty asks. “This is one of the few things I think I could win against him with, and I want to really impress my boyfriend.”
He sneaks me a look as they burst into a laugh, cutting through any lingering tension.
“You stick with me when it comes to trivia,” Mom says, guiding him into the kitchen, and Dad sidles up beside me. “I like him already, champ.” He hooks his arm around me, tugging me close, as though to remind me he’s my dad and he cares.
We enjoy dinner, then play trivia, with Mom and Marty stomping Dad and me out. When Mom and Marty get to chatting about her trip to Europe, Dad invites me to go out on the back porch with him.
“You’re full of surprises this year, aren’t you?” he says. “I’m just happy my son’s happy, you know that, right?”
It’s not only his words, but his gentle expression that tells me the same.
“That means a lot to me, Dad.”
“I shouldn’t have pressured you so much. I did really want you to go pro, partly because I couldn’t make the cut. But I never wanted it at the expense of your happiness.”
“I knew that would be how you felt. I hesitated because I didn’t want you to feel like all those years and that money went down the drain. Like I wasted your time. Because I did want it, really bad. But things change.”
His gaze shifts, and he looks out to the yard. “Speaking of things changing, it’s time for a confession. I did pressure your mom to keep these secrets—the divorce and Enzo—so please don’t put any of that on her. When we first told you, I didn’t mean to be so obvious about not wanting this. Just…the way it all played out, and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, but I do think you should keep in mind that since we agreed to this, your mom’s been really happy. I mean, happy in a way I’ve never seen her before, which also makes this hard for me.”
It’s a tough thing to hear, and I can see the heartbreak as his lip twists down, a deep sadness in his eyes.
“But,” he adds, “just because I wish things had been different doesn’t mean I don’t want that happiness for her. Knowing she fell out of love, it’s better this way, even if it’s hard. I don’t want anything I’ve said or done to make you feel any way about her or us other than we had a beautiful marriage together. We were lucky enough to have an amazing kid, and it breaks my heart that you would think I would see all the time and money I spent on football with you as a waste.”
This catches me by surprise.
“A waste of what?” he says. “How many dads can say they spent that much time with their kid? That we’d even happen to have a similar interest that would allow us to share that time? I got to see every game and every practice. I got to coach when you were a kid. I got to practice with you. I will never see a moment of that as a waste.”
He tears up, and now he’s got me all choked up, really appreciating all that time we had together. Both my parents knew how much it meant to me, and they moved heaven and earth every time an emergency or schedule change came up so that I wouldn’t miss any of it.
“I love you, champ. And in the same way that I want your mom to be happy, if football isn’t what makes you happy anymore, then you have to move on with your life, regardless of the dreams your dad was living out through you. You get that?”
Now he’s got my eyes watering.
Dammit.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get all emotional like this.” He pats my shoulder.
“It’s good. It’s been an emotional year. And a lot of surprises, clearly.” I indicate Marty through the French doors.