The Problem with Sports - M.E. Clayton Page 0,35
have liked a little heads-up that Grant knew you were dating Nathan. I felt kind of blindsided and hadn’t really known how to respond.”
Answering the phone, Steven had told me that, this morning over breakfast, Grant had told him that I was dating Nathan. Steven being a real estate agent, he was able to set his own hours. He always took Fridays off, even if that meant he had to put in extra hours Monday through Friday. It was something we both did. We worked our asses off on the days we didn’t have Grant, so that we could have more free time on the days we had them. We also got along well enough that if we needed to trade days or pick up/drop off times, we could.
“Steven, I never told Grant I was dating Nathan,” I told him. There had to be some mistake or Grant was just doing some wishful thinking and Steven misunderstood. “What…what did he say, exactly?”
There were a few seconds of silence, but there was no mistaking Steven’s tone when he asked, “You never told Grant you were dating Nathan?”
“No,” I replied. “I’d never do that without talking to you first. If…if it’s serious enough to tell Grant about it, then it’s serious enough to talk to you about it and discuss what it could mean.”
“He said Nathan told him that he liked you and asked him if it was okay if he was your boyfriend.” What? “I…I just assumed you guys had discussed it all together.”
“An…and when did Nathan tell him this? Do you know? Did he say?”
“I did ask, and Grant said Nathan told him yesterday afternoon,” he said. “Did Grant visit Nathan yesterday?”
My stomach dipped with realization. “Yeah,” I mumbled into the phone. “He went to visit him at his place a couple of hours before I dropped him off with you.”
“And Nathan didn’t say anything to you about it?”
“No.” Steven remained silent, so I went on to explain. “When I got back from dropping Grant off, Nathan had sent me a text that a water line had busted in his parents’ backyard. He’d gone over there to help out. I…I worked all Thursday evening, and I woke up to a text his morning that he’d see me today. The text came in at around midnight, so I assumed he stayed to help fix the water line, or…something.”
“And this morning?”
“I was working all morning, final edits and stuff, and…”
“And?”
“Well, he sent me another text, telling me he was going to go check on his parents water line again, just to double check in the light of day that it was fixed, and I got back to work.” It was like a bad movie where everything was going wrong, but Nathan could still have picked up the phone or sent me a text that we needed to talk. Something. Anything.
“Where are you now?”
“Justin’s got some new items on the menu tonight, and so I stopped by to wish him luck,” I replied. “I’m at the bar.”
“And no calls or texts from Nathan?”
“Just a text earlier that he’ll stop by tonight,” I muttered, feeling more and more foolish by the second. How could he have a conversation like that with my son, after telling him I wanted to take things slow, and not tell me about it? Not make the time to tell me about it?
“Look, Andie,” Steven started, and I knew that tone. However, I wasn’t sure I didn’t deserve whatever he was about to say to me. “I’ve done my best to respect you and your choices. It’s my fault we’re divorce, and I own that. I’ve swallowed that bitter pill and it sits like a rock in the pit of my stomach every fucking day. However, part of taking responsibility for what I’ve done is moving on and allowing you to move on, too. I want you to be happy, Andie. I swear to God, I do. I know there will still be these pockets of nostalgia that will cause some tender aches from time to time, but I want us to both be happy. For Grant’s sake, if nothing else.” I could feel the pressure behind my eyes because I knew where this was going, and I did deserve it. “But I am not going to stand back and let your boyfriend, or any of your boyfriends, should this thing with Nathan not work out, overstep and start making decisions that affect Grant’s life.”
“I know,” I muttered pathetically, but