I love my mom, and I’m not posting it for cred. I’m posting it because she’s the reason I can play ball for a living.
I caption itMy first coachand my biggest fan.
I’ve relied on Mom for advice my whole life. When we’re done eating, I let Tom and my sisters walk ahead of us, hanging back to snag a minute with her. “Need your advice, Mom.”
“Of course. What is it?”
“There’s this woman,” I begin. I tell her most of the story—the PG version, that is. “So…what should I do?”
With a thoughtful smile, she says, “Well, have you told her how you feel? That might be a good way to start.”
I stop walking. Stare at her.
Damn.
She’s right.
She’s so stinking right.
Maybe Brooke was noncommittal because I haven’t put my heart on the line. Now that I’ve realized that, I want to tell her right now. Run to her house. Wake her up if she’s sleeping.
Okay, maybe tonight isn’t the time to do it. But I at least want to chat with her. To hear her voice. To keep sharing our days with each other.
When I get home, I click open my texts and find a message from her there waiting.
Brooke: You melted all the hearts in Los Angeles tonight with that post of you and your mom. And mine a little more.
I’d been looking for a sign. This seems crystal clear. I take a deep breath, open my emotions a little more.
Drew: Yours is the one I want.
Screw texts. I call her.
“Hey, honey,” I say when she answers. That term of endearment feels different, as if it has new weight and meaning. “I hear you’re going to the game night this week.”
“Your sources are correct.”
I stare out the window at the Pacific, a fuzzy warmth in my chest. “Then in our parallel universe, it should be a date.”
Maybe somehow in the real world too.
“It definitely should be,” she says, but her tone sounds a little distant.
“You okay?”
“Getting a migraine. So I took a pill. I’ll probably fall asleep while we’re talking,” she says, apologetic.
“I might put you to sleep even without a headache,” I tease.
“Very doubtful.”
“You want me to let you go?”
“No. I like hearing from you.” She yawns now, sleepy.
“I won’t keep you long. Were you in the suite tonight?”
“I was. I enjoyed every second of it,” she says. “How was time with your mom after?”