Page 89 of Offside Rules

"Because they’ve been together four years," I tell him.

"So?"

"She’s probably trying to work out whether she wants to throw that away."

"He’s working pretty hard to help her decide."

"I didn’t say she should stay."

On the screen, the girlfriend starts crying. Wolf looks at her, then reaches for his water.

"He could at least tell her the truth."

"She keeps asking."

"This guy is an asshole. She can do better."

I watch him for a second before turning back to the television. He hasn’t made a joke about this woman since the conversation started, and when her boyfriend walks away, Wolf shakes his head.

"How did you even get into this show?" Wolf asks.

"Me and my mom love reality tv. We were bored one Christmas break and spent the entire thing catching up on the four seasons prior."

"There’s that many seasons of this?" he asks, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"Yep. We could binge for a month and still have more to watch." I tell him. "Did you and your dad ever watch anything like this?"

He looks at me. "No. My dad rarely watches TV. He works unless he’s asleep, and not because he has to financially anymore. But he’d have a lot to say about that guy spending ten minutes trying to open the champagne."

"His date finally did it."

"Then he toasted to taking care of her. Bold claim from a man who couldn’t get her a drink."

I laugh, then look down at the rosé in my hand. Wolf opened it, made dinner, and had everything waiting when I got out of the bath. He hasn’t mentioned any of it.

When I look back at him, he’s watching the screen, shaking his head as the guy starts explaining what he needs from a woman.

I take another sip before I say something stupid, like how much I like being here.

"You said your dad works even though he doesn’t need to?"

"He’s a workaholic, and he’s always invested his money well. He built his automobile business from nothing at the age of eighteen. I think the workaholic part is why my mom left."

"You said you haven’t seen her in twenty years. She just up and left one day?"

He twists the cap back onto his water.

"She ran off with my dad’s shop manager. He promised her adventure, my mom had me at seventeen. Maybe she felt trapped with a workaholic husband and a little kid when she was still a kid herself. She left when I was six."

"Dad raised me. Single dad at twenty-four years old. The shop became my playground. If I wasn’t in school or playing hockey, I was there."

I look down at the popcorn bowl between us. I knew about the shop. He’s mentioned it when talking about Sprinkles and the parts he ordered. I hadn’t thought about how much of his childhood he spent there, or why.

"Did you ever hear from her?"

"A few times. Nothing that lasted. Christmas cards sometimes. Promises to come to my games that ended up as empty seats."

He says it simply, looking at the television, and I don’t know what to do with the urge to move the bowl and sit closer.