Page 74 of Sportsball is for Lovers

“Are you happy?” I ask her gently. “Seriously, truly—does he make you happy?”

Rachel sighs. “Yeah. I think so.”

“You should know by now.”

“I mean, it’s been six years.”

I want to snap at her. If it’s been six years, she has more than enough data to know he’s not about to change. She’s a scientist, a nuclear physicist. She knows better than to believe anecdotal evidence. Why does she expect it to happen?

Besides, everyone knows that all Eriks with a K are evil. The good ones are the Erics with a C.

“You have to do what you think is right,” I finally tell her. “You know I’ll be supporting you every step of the way.” I stop short of offering her my spare room. I don’t think she’s ready to hear it.

Rach gives me a watery smile. “Thanks, babe. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The conversation turns to more pleasant topics, like Arielle and Asher’s wedding coming up this winter. We’re still a good six months away, though Arielle has joked about eloping three separate times in the last three weeks. Her mother is driving her nuts. And speaking of…

“I’m bringing Jared to Arizona,” I blurt in the middle of Rachel’s sentence about the bridesmaid dresses.

She gapes at me. “Fuck me,” she says. “It’s serious?”

I shake my head. “No, but I can’t show up alone and he’s the guy I’m dating, so I invited him.”

Her eyes go wide. “You dating anyone at all is still a big deal, babe.”

“It makes me itchy,” I admit quietly.

Rachel laughs. “You know, there are creams for that.”

I waggle my eyebrows. “We got tested. I’m good there.”

That was one of Jared’s requirements. He’s not ready for a vasectomy, and I get it, it’s a lot of pressure to put on a new relationship. We’re still using condoms and I’m on birth control—can’t risk any accidents until Yoni decides if he wants me to have a kid for him—but it was easy to agree to exclusivity once we confirmed we were good and clear. And I don’t have to worry if a condom does break or I do miss a pill.

Plus, the birth control helps regulate my raging PMDD. I honestly don’t know how I’d survive without it. I can’t go back to having a week of panic attacks every time I ovulate.

“So you’re like… really doing this,” Rachel says quietly.

I raise my eyebrows. “Doing what?”

“Dating. Putting yourself out there.”

I shrug. “Not really. It’s casual.”

She rolls her eyes. “For you, that’s basically announcing your engagement.” Her face falls. “I don’t know that it’ll ever happen for me…”

“It will,” I tell her firmly. I don’t know when, and I don’t know with whom, but I have faith that she’ll find the right person for her. I don’t think it’ll be with Erik.

But I’m not about to tell her that.