Page 63 of Break Points and Face Offs

“To keep up with the scores?”

“Yes.”

“You know you could just Google it.”

“ESPN came with the package. And I watch the highlights.”

“How’d the Bruins do last night?”

“They beat Ottawa 3-2.”

“How many goals on the power play?”

He gives me a panicked look.

“I’m just fucking with you, Rosie.”

He sinks into the couch and drinks his fake champagne.

“Not everything’s a test, you know?” I tell him.

He holds his glass to his chest and stares into the black screen of the TV. “You’re so naive.”

“Why are you so sad? We’re not bottom of the leaderboard anymore. And you’re still number two.”

“Exactly. Number two isn’t good enough. I’ve never been number two.”

“Number two’s good!”

He scoffs. “That’s okay for you to say.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve met your family, Will.”

Is that the first time he’s ever called me Will?

“They don’t care if you succeed or not.”

“They care if I succeed.”

He waves his hand impatiently. “What I mean is … they don’t care if you’re number one or not. They just want you to be … happy.”

He swigs his drink, draining it with a wince.

“Isn’t that what everyone’s parents want?”

An uncharacteristic snort escapes through his nose. “That’s funny.”

“What is?” I ask, my voice coming out quieter than I’d expected. I’m not sure I even want to hear the answer.

“You are an extension of your parents. You represent them out there in the world. If your children are a failure, then you are a double failure because you failed as a parent and they failed you.”

He says it like a practiced speech. Like it’s something someone else has said to him, more than once.

“You are an extension of your parents,” I agree.

His head snaps in my direction. He was probably expecting me to argue with him like I always do. I hold his gaze.