The Problem with Sports - M.E. Clayton Page 0,19

replied, his face scrunched up again as if he were giving it some real thought.

Since he was six. Then that meant they’ve been separated and/or divorced for about two years. Of course, I couldn’t get the details of their divorced from Grant, but I did need to know if there were some residual feelings there somewhere. I found myself attracted to Andrea, but I wasn’t interested in a full-blown love triangle.

Grant paused Sports Center and turned to give me his undivided attention. “Guess what?”

“What?” I was just as eager to hear what he had to say as he was to say it.

“When Mom and Dad were out on the balcony yesterday, I went to go get a juice pack, and I could hear them through the door.”

“And what did you hear?”

“Mom asked Dad if I could go to a real ball-game,” he almost squealed like a teenage girl. “Dad said he would think about it. Isn’t that awesome?”

My chest was a starburst of warmth. “That is awesome,” I told him. And it was. I couldn’t wait to take him to a game.

“Dad told her that, if I get to go, him and Mom will take me to my first game,” he went on. “And it’s going to be a football game in September!” he finished excitedly.

“That’s gre-”

Wait.

What?

They’re going to take him? And it’s going to be football?

“I wouldn’t mind going to an Angels’ game, but I agree with my Dad,” he prattled on as if he hadn’t just broken my goddamn heart. “Since football is my favorite, I want my first game to be football.”

I shook my head and tried to prioritize. “Yeah, about that,” I grimaced. “Why is football your favorite?”

“Because offensive linemen can get away without running, if they don’t have to,” he said, and I could actually hear my heart cracking down the middle. “If I could play anything, it would be that position because there’s not a lot of running.” The goddamn kid scrunched his face up again. “Or a hockey goalie. I think I could do that, too.”

My phone rang, saving me from crying all over the place like a fucking pussy, and when I picked it up off the coffee table, I thanked God for the call.

I looked at Grant. “I have to take this.”

He grinned and unpaused Sports Center. “No problem.”

“What’s up?” I said into the phone.

“I’m dancing through your town next week. Wednesday and Thursday, so I can stop by and see your Mom,” Sergio said. “I’m going to stop by and see you, too.” He didn’t ask, but then, he was my best friend and didn’t need to. Next to my brothers, Sergio Hernandez was my closest friend.

“Sounds good,” I replied.

“Sounds good,” he echoed. “Gotta go. I got a blonde winking at me.” He hung up as I laughed into the phone. I knew the blonde was his wife.

Andrea walked in with a platter of sandwiches as I pocketed my phone. “Anybody hungry?”

“I am,” Grant immediately replied.

“Same here,” I told her, and she smiled as she set the platter on the coffee table. She even put down a water for me and a juice pack for Grant.

“You guys having fun?”

Before Grant could answer, I said, “Can Grant come by next Wednesday? Sergio Hernandez is going to be in town.”

Grant’s little head whipped around, his eyes wide, while Andrea asked, “Who’s Sergio Hernandez?”

Grant turned to her. “Mom, I think we really need to talk,” he said, shaking his head sadly.

“He’s right,” I added. “This is starting to become embarrassing.”

Chapter 11

Andrea~

I didn’t see this coming.

Once again, Nathan Hayes was in my living room, taking liberties with Grant’s life, and I was surprised this shit was still shocking me. Especially, since it was a Friday night. Didn’t Nathan Hayes have anything better to do than butt into an eight-year-old’s life?

“Are you trying to bargain with me?” I asked, listening to the words he was saying, but still in disbelief.

“What’s wrong with that?” he challenged.

“Uh, other than the fact that Grant is not your son and you don’t really have a say in anything we decided for him, I suppose nothing,” I replied sardonically.

“Tell me how that’s not a fair trade?” he pushed again.

We were standing in the middle of my living room again, squaring off, and it was really blowing my mind. “Because you don’t have rights where Grant is concerned,” I tried again. “You do understand that he’s not yours, right?” Maybe Nathan was a lunatic and the MLB forced him to retire