to go up a bra size, since my breast is threatening to pop out.
“Sorry,” I stammer. “Donette?”
“I don’t eat sugar during the season.”
Right. Of course not. I get to be the lumpy one, and he gets to be the fit hockey jock with buns of steel. “Thank goodness fish and chips are okay.”
Another flinchy face. “Yep.”
Ooh. A mystery.
Good.
I’ll wait to tell him we’re going to a funeral until we hit Richmond. “You don’t usually eat fried foods during the season.”
“A guy’s allowed a cheat day.”
“You were in a bad mood. What happened?”
“Nothing.”
Total mystery. Something happened. “Did you have another group text with your sisters?”
“No.”
“Oooh. You were at Duncan’s house for the after-party, weren’t you? Did something happen there?”
His brows do that thing that tells me he has no idea what I’m talking about. “How do you know about Lavoie’s party?”
Better question—where was he that he doesn’t know that Duncan had a party? “Kami told me. What happened? Did you find out he uses your face on his dartboard? Did Rooster steal your phone and send inappropriate suggestions to your sisters? Did you fall asleep and wake up with shaving cream in your ears? Did you proposition a bunny and she turned you down?”
“Yep.”
“You weren’t actually at Duncan’s party, were you? Oh my god. You weren’t invited.”
“Are you going to talk this much the whole drive?”
“You keep telling me you have four sisters. You’re not used to this?” I can’t believe he wasn’t invited. Maybe it wasn’t a party. Maybe it was what the players with kids and wives call a party, but it’s really them sitting around talking about what it’s like being in their thirties with responsibilities.
I could see not inviting Tyler to that kind of party, but Kami loving it. She did say Ares and Manning and their wives and kids were there too.
Tyler answers my question about his sisters by cranking the stereo, gripping the wheel with both hands until his knuckles turn white, and staring at the road straight ahead.
And I go silent, wondering if he was actually at that secret club that Maren took me to the night Tyler and I hooked up.
I say secret club like I don’t know it’s the bunny bar, because I don’t like to think about Tyler at the bunny bar. If I had a lot more confidence and a smaller butt and no hang-ups about sex, I’d like to think I’d fit right in with the bunnies.
I love the bunnies. They’re smart and kind and killer businesswomen, putting their sisterhood ahead of even the hockey players they claim to love. It’s weird to me that they know their friends might also sleep with the same players they sometimes sleep with, but it’s also kind of a thrill to think about being so utterly free and open about sex being a fun adult activity. There’s no stigma to it. No name-calling. No backstabbing.
If one of them does get serious with a player, they all talk about it, and everyone knows that player’s off-limits. If a player gets too clingy to one of them and makes them uncomfortable, they kick him out.
It’s like the best kind of power. No one’s putting them down. No one’s putting them in a corner. They’re stronger because they’re together.
They’re living life on their terms.
Whereas I can’t even tell Tyler why I want a date.
Or what the date actually is.
So instead, I settle deeper into my seat and pull out my phone and work on scheduling out a week’s worth of motivational and supportive emails to my clients, plus do a little pre-screening of potential matches for them, pausing occasionally to look out the window.
I like the drive to Richmond. Lots of pine trees to keep things green even when the rest of the trees have lost their leaves.
But I also don’t like the drive to Richmond, because I know what’s waiting for me there.
Haunting old memories.
Some good memories too. I had friends. I liked my classes. We had our favorite bars and restaurants.
But it all ended with one terrible idea with an even worse outcome.
That seems to be the story of my life, though I still have hope that Muff Matchers is on the right path.
Once I’ve finished my work, I make it through two songs and half a dozen Donettes before I reach over and turn the volume down. “What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you?”
He slides a look at me that lingers longer than it probably should, given that he’s