While Jet sets the tray on the unoccupied side of the mattress, I sit up and rub furiously at the mascara-coated, puffy bags under my eyes. He comes around to my side of the bed and squats next to me.
“’Morning, Beautiful,” he murmurs with a sad smile that threatens to undo me all over again.
At my shaky chin and welling eyes, he tilts his head and sighs, then motions for me to sit on the side of the bed, facing him while he remains perched at my level. When I do, he grabs my right hand in his left and rubs his thumb against my knuckles. “Oh, Maura.”
I sniff the tears away and look at my knees. “I’m okay. I didn’t sleep much.”
“Me neither.” With his bandaged hand under my chin, he lifts my face to look at him. His stubbled cheeks are pale, which highlights the dark circles under his eyes. “Hey. We’re in this together, right? You still want that? Because I do.”
All I can do is nod.
Smiling, he says, “Good. That’s what I should have said last night. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I shouldn’t have stormed out of here like a—”
“It’s okay.” I cradle his face in both of my hands. “I let my imagination run wild, instead of talking to you. I overreacted.”
He shifts from his feet to his knees, brackets my hips with his arms, and rests his head on my lap. “I was afraid when I opened that door this morning, you’d be gone. I thought I blew it. Again.”
His rare allusion to Ginny isn’t lost on me, but I don’t want to talk about her. I feather his hair. “I wouldn’t do that.” Then, to lighten what’s becoming an impossibly heavy vibe, I point out, “I don’t have a car here.”
He laughs and looks up at me. “You’re right. I guess I accidentally kidnapped you last night.”
I press my thumbs to the rings under his eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you too. Please be here when I get home later.”
I nod my compliance. “Still don’t have a car.”
“You know where all the keys are. Use whichever one you want, if you need to do stuff or go anywhere. But I want to come home to you tonight.”
“I’ll be here.” It’ll be one of the only times this season we get to spend a Saturday night together, thanks to the home opener being a Monday night game.
I lean down, and he reaches up, our lips meeting nearly exactly in the middle of the space between our faces. It’s a short kiss, but it’s probably packed with more meaning than nearly any other we’ve shared.
When it’s over, Jet rises to his feet and clears his throat.
“Well. Enjoy your breakfast.”
“Wait!” I swivel at the waist and raise the dome on the tray to see that, sure enough, there’s only one plate of eggs Benedict, bacon, and toast under there. “You’re not going to eat with me?” I glance at the sun streaming through the balcony doors. “It’s such a beautiful morning. We could eat outside.”
He shakes his head regretfully. “I have to get to the training complex.” His smile is rueful when he explains, “You know, so I can watch everyone else work out.” He winks.
I chuckle. “Oh. Right.”
As if on cue, my phone lights up and vibrates on the bedside table, signifying an incoming notification. We both look at the device like it’s a bomb about to explode. His face darkens.
Before he can say anything, I promise, “I won’t read it. I won’t read anything. As a matter of fact, I’ll delete those alert settings altogether.”
“I just want you to be happy, Maura.”
“You make me happy.”
“If anything important and real comes up that you need to know and we need to handle, I’ll tell you. Right away.”
“I trust you.”
He rewards me with a lopsided smile and a longer goodbye kiss, then walks to the door. As soon as he opens it to leave, Torzi bounds in, leaping onto the bed. I pull him away from my food and into my lap, then lift his paw in a wave to Jet, who laughs at us and says, “You two stay out of trouble.”
“You do the same.”
Like I ever need to worry about that.
On a typical Saturday during the season, like last week, I don’t see Jet at all. He goes to practice early, and if the team is playing an away game, they fly to their destination city to get settled at their hotel, where they attend more pre-game meetings and hit the sheets early (alone, presumably). For home games, the routine is the same, minus the flying. The players even stay in a hotel, like they would in another city. It’s all part of the mental aspect of game prep, designed to lessen the impact of away games on the psyche.
When I originally looked at the schedule, back when being Jet’s girlfriend was new and somewhat stifling, I counted the Monday and Thursday night games, as well as the bye week, and committed the dates of their associated Saturdays to memory. Not because I was looking forward to them, but because I wanted to prepare myself for those extra days of girlfriend obligation. To think, the old Maura dreaded those anomalies in the schedule, worried about sacrificing precious alone-time. The old Maura was a clueless moron.
The new me recognizes these rare Saturdays as gems to be cherished, gifts to be highly anticipated. This first one isn’t turning out quite the way I’d planned, but it’s not too late to turn it around. My original plan for this first Saturday together is back on track after a temporary derailment.
This early in September, it’s still pretty warm out, but I’m eager for fall. Thanks to the stress of the job fair and the prospect of the love affair of my life shattering under the pressure created by the world in which it exists
