“Where’s your pretty girl today? She smarten up and kick you to the curb already?”
I chuckled. “Glad to see you’re in your regular good spirits.”
He got up from one seat and sat down at the next. “Go plant your ass in E forty-four,” he said, pointing. “The bolts are stripped. When you sit down, you’ll wind up on the floor. It’ll do you some good to remember the crappy accommodations the people yelling your name are shelling out two-hundred bucks for.”
Otto was eight or nine rows away, so I walked up and took the aisle seat on the other side of the stairs to give him room to work.
“How you feeling?” I asked.
“Good. Finished my treatments and getting my strength back.” He flexed his hands. “Pins and needles are the same, but I’ll deal with it if it means I buy a little more time. I decided to call it quits here, though. Gave a month’s notice yesterday.”
“You get a job somewhere else?”
“Nope. My wife talked me into taking a road trip we’ve talked about since before we got married. Her brother has an RV he never uses, so we’re going to drive from here to California taking the north route and drive home through the South. Might take three weeks, might take three months. We’ll see how it goes.”
“Good for you. That sounds awesome.”
“I wanted to work as much as I could, bank money for my Dorothy for when I’m gone. But she says she’d rather have time with me than a little extra cash.” He shook his head. “I was being stubborn, but when she asked me what I would want if the shoe was on the other foot, I realized the money isn’t important.” He lifted his chin to me. “What about you? You coming here on a Wednesday when you’re off because you got news? Maybe tell me about your trade to the Blades, or do I have to read about it in the Post someday?”
I smiled. “Actually, that’s why I stopped over. We finalized the deal, so I’m probably going to be heading out to sign the contract next week, and then they’ll want to do a press conference.”
“You happy? Did you get what you wanted?”
Three months ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. But the last few weeks, it felt like no amount of money or fame could get me what I wanted in life. Yet I nodded. “It’s a great contract.”
“Glad to hear it. And how’s your smart girl?”
I smiled. “Georgia’s good.”
“She moving out there with you, or you gonna be one of those fancy bicoastal couples?”
My face answered before I did.
“Oh, Jesus. You’re not going to try one of those long-distance things, are you? I might be old fashioned, but a couple should sleep in the same damn bed at night.”
I shook my head. “We were just having fun over the summer.”
His bushy brows pulled together to form what looked like a caterpillar. “So you’re not in love with this girl?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Oh.” He nodded. “Complicated? I get it. That’s young people speak for cop-out.”
“Sometimes the best thing you can do for a person you love is set them free.”
Otto snorted. “Did you read that shit on a Hallmark card? I didn’t realize you were so soft.”
“Soft? Don’t make me get up and kick an old man’s ass.”
He waved me off and grumbled something I didn’t catch.
“So whatta you think about the Radiski trade?” I knew that would change the subject. Otto thought Radiski was the most overrated goalie in the league, and he’d just snagged a huge, multiyear contract.
For the next hour and a half, I followed along, moving row to row as Otto tested out each chair and we bullshitted about the busy trade season. When it was time for him to take lunch, I figured I’d go.
We walked to the door together, and I extended my hand. “I’ll stop back again before you leave.”
“Sounds good.” We shook, but Otto didn’t let go of my hand. Instead, he used it to keep my attention and looked me in the eye. “Humor a dying old man and let me give you some advice.”
“What’s that?”
“Whatever you think is so complicated, isn’t. Don’t wait until you’re seventy and sick to figure out that life is pretty simple. Be with the people you love, and your life will feel full in the end, whenever that time may come.”
• • •
Things just weren’t the same between Georgia and me after the night we had our talk. We still spent time together, and most people wouldn’t have noticed the change from the outside, but I felt it. There was a wall that hadn’t been there before, something blocking my ability to feel as close to her. I understood it, of course. But it still wasn’t easy to accept. Every part of my body screamed to take back what I’d said and tell her I’d do whatever it took to make us work. Yet I didn’t, because deep down, I knew I was doing the right thing for her.
The following Saturday, I picked her up to go out to dinner. Our table wasn’t ready, so we waited at the bar and ordered a drink. While we were there, two women who didn’t look old enough to drink the alcohol in their hands recognized me.
“Oh my God! You’re Max Yearwood, aren’t you?” one of them asked.
I smiled politely and nodded.
They got up from their stools on the other side of Georgia and stood in front of me. “I love you so much. Please say you’re coming to California? We’re just visiting New York. We live in Santa Barbara.”
The announcement was coming in a few days, but I wasn’t about to have it leaked on a fan’s social media.
“We’re still working on things,” I said.
The taller of the two covered her heart with her hand. “God, you’re even better looking in person.”
My eyes slanted to Georgia and back to the women. “That’s very nice of you. But I’m sort of on a date.”
For the first time, the women seemed to notice someone sitting next to me. They looked Georgia up and down. “Are you his wife?” one of them asked.
Georgia shook her head.
“Girlfriend?”
My eyes caught with Georgia’s again. She frowned and shook her head.
The more aggressive, taller one reached into her purse. She pulled out a business card and handed it to me. “If you do wind up in LA and want someone to show you around, I’d be happy to.”
I held up my hand. “I’m good, thanks.”
The woman shrugged. “Can I at least get a selfie with you?”
“I’d rather not. Like I said, I’m on a date.”
Luckily the hostess walked over and interrupted. “Your table is ready, Mr. Yearwood.”
“Thank you.” I gave the ladies a curt nod before offering my hand to Georgia. “It was nice meeting you.”
After we were seated, Georgia was quiet.
“I’m sorry about that.”
She laid her napkin across her lap. “It’s fine. You should’ve taken her number. They were both pretty.”
I frowned sharply. “I wouldn’t do that.”
Georgia drew figure eights in the condensation on her water glass. “Do you remember when we first met, and I told you one of the things I wanted to work on was to stop overanalyzing everything?”