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“Mom says you can’t bring one of your usual dates.”
I hadn’t even thought about that yet, but now I felt irritated. “Why not? What if I’m in love too?”
“Are you?”
“Of course not.”
“So...maybe just come on your own? Unless you’re really dating someone.” Beck sounded hesitant, unhappy to be delivering that specific message.
“Don’t worry about that, bro. You just enjoy this part of your life. I’ll be there, I’ll bring someone appropriate—wait, what are the bridesmaids like?”
“No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“Zara’s friends won’t meet your requirements, anyway.”
“You have no idea what my requirements are,” I said, working to sound indignant.
“Let’s see...focused on your fame, usually augmented with silicone, generally challenged when it comes to procuring clothing in appropriate sizes—”
“That’s enough.” I growled it, not because any of it was wrong, but because I didn’t need my dating habits to be examined too closely.
“I’m sending the info via email,” Beck told me. “See you soon!”
“Can’t wait.” I hung up, but almost as soon as I ended the call, the phone was buzzing again. Mom.
I stood and walked away from the peanut gallery next to the pool. Mom didn’t need to hear any of the comments my teammates made as regularly as they breathed. “Hi Mom.”
“Sylvester, honey. Great season. I’m so proud of you. Your father is over the moon.”
“Thanks, Mom.” It still warmed my insides to hear Mom say she was proud of me.
“Did you speak with your brother?”
“He just called.”
“Isn’t it wonderful? I just love Zara.”
“She’s great. I’m really happy for them.” I was. I’d always pictured my little brother with the standard two kids and a dog, and he was on his way down that path now. It was good. Mom needed some grandkids, and they sure as hell weren’t coming from me.
“And he told you the other thing?”
My good mood dampened. “I’m not bringing a date, if that’s what you mean. I’ve been advised.”
“Honey,” she said, giving me her ‘be reasonable’ tone. “It isn’t that we don’t like your little girlfriends—”
“I’ll just come on my own, Mom.” I interrupted her before she could give me another description of my recent lady friends.
“I just...” Mom trailed off, and I thought I heard her sniff. “I just wish you’d work a little harder on finding the right kind of woman. Someone real. Someone who you can—”
“It’s fine, Mom.”
“I hate you being alone.”
I laughed, and the words were out before I could really think about them. “I’m rarely alone.”
“Ew.”
