Page 28 of Going All In

Judy

*eyeballs emoji* forward to seeing you Thursday, dear! Let your me or your dad know what time your *train emoji* gets in and we’ll pick you up.

Dad

train time

what

what time is

call me train

I snort at the last one. Dad has never really figured out texting. I think he gets flustered by how small the touchscreen keyboard is on his phone. He usually types out a few words and then gives up, or inadvertently hitsSendbefore he means to.

I call him first. “Hi, Dad. Did you want to know what time the train gets in on Thursday?”

“Yeah. Judy said we should pick you up. I think her son is coming in from the city, too. Maybe you can coordinate so we only have to come out once. I can have her send you his number. His name is Maddox.”

Yeah, I know his name, and my dad does not need to know why I already have Maddox’s phone number saved in my phone. “Sure, Dad. I’m going to take the train that gets in at 11:05. Have Judy send me his phone number.”

I’m going to hell for lying to my dad. I know most people passed this dubious landmark back in high school, if not sooner, but my dad and I were always close, even before my mom died. I don’t remember ever lying to him. But on the scale of little-white-lie to giving-dad-a-heart-attack, I’m aiming squarely for a benign falsehood in this case.

“Sounds good, honey. I’ll see you Thursday.”

I end the call and move back to the stream of text messages that came in while I was out with Justin.

JJ

I’m home. I’ll give you details when you get back.

I’m just at the bar. Be home in like 30.

Judy

Hi Judy, I’m going to take the train that gets in at 11:05. Thanks for offering to pick me up. If you send me Maddox’s number, I’ll coordinate so we get there at the same time.

I’m going to hell.

Maddox

The date was good.

You home now?

Yeah.

I’ve barely hitSendwhen there’s an incoming call from Maddox.

“Tell me about the date,” he starts, without even sayinghello.

I lean back on my pillow with the phone pressed to my ear. “It was good.” Maddox does not need to know that there wasn’t a spark. I don’t even need a spark. That’s made up, and the last time I fell for a spark, it wrecked me.

I just need a guy like Justin, who looks nice, is polite, and won’t rip my heart out in front of my entire family.

“Oh?”

I snort. “Don’t sound so surprised. I can be a good date.”

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