Page 40 of One Pucking Chance

She shakes her head. “I don’t work for the money. You’ve given me far too much already.”

“Then why are you working? And at the diner of all places?”

I’m blocking her exit so she’s forced to talk to me. “I’ve been a server my whole life. I’m good at it.”

“You could do anything. Aren’t there any other hobbies or passions you want to explore? You don’t have to be on your feet all day, carrying heavy trays and dealing with jackass customers.”

“Jay.” She sighs. “I don’t want to argue, and I have to go. You know I hate being late.”

“Okay.” I step aside, allowing her to exit the house. I follow, closing the door behind me. “Do you have any free time coming up? We could do dinner, or I could get you tickets to a game?”

She unlocks her car and tosses her purse in. “My schedule is pretty full. I’ll call you.”

I nod as she closes her car door and backs out of the drive. My eyes follow her until the car turns the corner and disappears out of sight. As always, I question why I stopped by in the first place as I descend the front porch steps and walk to my car. Per usual, I feel worse than I did when I arrived. That’s pretty status quo for my visits. I’m not sure what it is about our dynamic, but my mother and I are not close. More than that, sometimes I question whether she even loves me. The thought doesn’t compute because she worked so hard when I was young to give me what I needed. Yet she’s still working hard when neither of us want for anything. Did she work all those hours to avoid me? Does she resent me?

I don’t know, but I feel as if I’ve tried in my adult years to bring us together. The fact remains that we barely know each other. Despite our shared DNA, we’re strangers. She won’t even go to a game, stating that she prefers to watch them on her TV at home. But does she actually watch them? Who knows.

Before pulling out of the drive, I shoot Anna a text to let her know I’m on my way.

We haven’t seen one another since the incident on the sofa. The team has been away on road games for most of the past week, and there hasn’t been a time to get together. We’ve texted regularly, but the conversation hasn’t ventured toward what almost happened, and I doubt it will. Anna made her feelings clear that night. She isn’t interested in a friends-with-benefits situation, so there’s nothing to really talk about anyway.

Will it be difficult to spend time with her knowing what it feels like to touch her so intimately, to have heard the delicious noises she makes when I make her feel good? Yes, most likely torturous. Every part of me wants every part of her, and that desire doesn’t just go away. Despite all that, I’m excited to see her. I’ve missed hanging out, and I’ve chosen a date that won’t put us in any awkward situations.

She’s standing outside the studio door talking to Miranda when I arrive. She doesn’t wait for me to greet her. Instead, she hurries over to the car and gets in.

“Hey!” She leans over the center console to give me a hug.

“No cameras today?” I wave at Miranda through the window and put the car in drive.

“No, not today.”

I always find it odd when we hang out without a staged photo shoot because the whole reason for us getting together were these photos. It leads me to believe that Anna’s feelings for me are more complicated than she lets on. Perhaps it’s true, and she’s not looking for a romantic relationship. But I fill some need because otherwise, she would’ve spent her evening with Miranda.

“Tell me about your week,” I say.

She talks about the scenes she’s shot and what they entailed. I look over at her and smile as she speaks excitedly about every aspect of the process. She really loves what she does. It’s obvious. And I love that for her. I’ve come to realize over the years that most people don’t have a career that fills their soul. For the majority, a job is simply a paycheck. Those like Anna and myself who live for our careers are rare, and it’s a privilege I’ll always be grateful for.

Anna continues chatting, and my mind wanders back to my mother. More specifically, I think about what she gets from her job. She doesn’t serve people food for the money because she doesn’t need the paycheck. Surely the long, hard hours on her feet serving others doesn’t fuel her soul. So why does she do it? Even as I ask myself these questions, I know I have to be fine with never having the answers because she’ll never give them to me. My mom and our relationship are two things I’ve been trying to make sense of for years, and still, nothing makes sense.

“Did you hear me?” Anna says with a grin.

“Yeah.” I nod.

“So?” She twists in her seat to face me.

“So?”

She chuckles. “Where are we going?”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I heard you,” I say as I pull into the movie parking lot. “I rented out a theater. You love movies so much, I thought we should watch one.”

“Oh, how fun,” she squeals.

Once the car is parked, we walk hand in hand into the theater. “What are we watching?”

“One of the greats—apparently. I’ll have to weigh in after I’ve seen it.”

“Titanic!”

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