Page 11 of Puck of the Irish

“Of course I want you to be happy,” he says, softening a fraction. I snort in obvious disagreement and he narrows his eyes. “But this isn’t sustainable, Natalie. I know that you needed time to handle your mother’s passing in your own way, and I’ve given you that time, but soon you’re going to have to stop playing pretend and start your real life.”

“And this isn’t my real life?” I snap.

“Of course not,” he scoffs.

“And that’s enough for today.” I push away from the table and toss my napkin on my plate. “I’ve got a lot of work to do for the job that you think is just so far beneath you, that I happen to fucking love.”

“Natalie—” he says in an exasperated tone, but I cut him off.

“I’ll see you in two weeks, dad. Love you.”

He sighs but doesn’t move to stop me. “I love you, too.” As much as we verge on hating each other sometimes, as many times as I want to put my fist through a wall after these dinners with him, we always,alwaysend our conversations with love. Deep down, we both do and we know how quickly things can change, how fast someone can be taken from this earth. I would never want our last words to each other to be anything but love, regardless of how mad I am at him.

I leave the restaurant, torn between fuming and hurt. And is stupid as it is, the one person I want to talk it through with is Rizzo. Not Hattie. Not Bobby.Rizzo.

Things have been…weird. I mean, not weird in the sense that we’re being awkward around each other or anything, but I’m pretty sure he wants a round two. Which isn’t exactly his M.O., so it’s suspect…and I promised myself that it was a one off. One night to give in to temptation and that was it. Because I know that’s for the best. Rizzo doesn’t do relationships and even though I’m not sure I really do either, I don’t think I can do the whole fuck buddies or friends-with-benefits thing with him. I would feel like a player in a batting line up or something, just one on the roster waiting for my turn at the plate, and as much as I tell myself that I’m not feeling things for Rizz, that it’s all just hormones and his stupid god-like sex powers, I know it’s a lie.

I can’t go for round two…because I’ll want a round three and a round four, and then suddenly I’m in love with him and he’s breaking my heart or I’m breaking his and I have to quit my job and it’s all awful.

So, even though we’re friends, I’m going to ignore the desire to talk to him tonight and go home and drown my sorrows in someCriminal Mindsand a glass of wine.

Maybe a whole damn bottle.

Eight

RIZZO

“So,I might have done something stupid,” I say to Shep as we wave to the throngs of people lining the streets for the Christmas Parade from our spots on the Vipers float. I wasn’t planning on spilling the beans about me and Nat, but it’s been weighing on my mind nonstop. It’s only been a few days but I feel like I’m going crazy. I need to talk about it and Shep is the person I talk to about everything.

“Might have?” he asks with a quirk of his brow.

“Ok, so there’s no might about it. I slept with Nat. You know, Hattie’s assistant?”

He groans and elbows me hard in the ribs. I let out a grunt of pain but the two of us keep our smiles plastered on our faces, waving to the kids like everything’s fine.

“You fucking idiot.”

“I know, I know.”

“And?”

“And she told me it was a one-time thing,” I say, trying to keep the incredulity and annoyance out of my voice. Shep turns to me, looking confused.

“Isn’t that exactly how you like it?”

“No, no, no, you aren’t listening.Shetoldmeit was a one off, not the other way around. When we were done, she got dressed, told me it was fun, kissed me, and then bolted.”

Shep laughs loudly, slapping me on the back.

“She pulled a Rizzo on you.”

“Yeah, she did. And fuck if it wasn’t…hot?” I run my hand through my hair. It was hot in a weird, really messed up way. I’m always the one doing the walking out, always the one giving the bad news that it’s a one-and-done thing. Her doing it is like this weird role reversal and challenge all built into one and I should probably talk to my therapist about this because there has to be something wrong with me.

“I don’t know, man, maybe that’s not the right word, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since. I’m desperate to get a round two. Like can barely enjoy my time with anyone else kind of desperate.” Not barely. Can’t. Period. I haven’t been with anyone since that night with Nat, despite having ample opportunities, especially after the big win against Syracuse the other night. But I had zero desire to even try to go home with anyone. “What is wrong with me?” I groan.

“A lot,” he answers, shaking his head, “a lot.”

I spot a little girl in a 15 Vipers Jersey and point, grinning. “Hey! Someone give that girl two treat bags!” She smiles widely, waving like crazy when she sees me pointing at her, and turns to show me the back of her shirt where Rizzo is scrawled across her shoulders in sparkly teal letters. I wave at her and one of the teamsters gives her two treat bags. The little girl looks at her dad like she just won the lotto and it makes my chest feel all warm and fuzzy. She reminds me a bit of Ollie, actually.

---