Page 79 of Full Contact

“Has she?”

“No.”

He laughed, and then kissed my neck, just above the collar of my T-shirt. I lost track of Peaches.

Around ten, my phone buzzed on the coffee table. I reached for it without getting up, which took some arranging. Mark was lying half on top of me with his head on my shoulder. His shirt was unbuttoned to the waist, and somewhere along the way my T-shirt had ended up on the floor. “Golden Girls” had given way to “Gilmore Girls.”

Russ: Last question before you book. 23rd or 24th? Kelsey needs to know for bedrooms.

“Russ,” I said. “He’s finalizing the seating chart.”

Mark didn’t lift his head. “For Christmas?”

“Yes, and he’s booking his bedrooms. Kelsey’s mother arrives Christmas Day, so someone gets moved.” I opened the team calendar with one thumb, my other hand still on Mark’s back. The holiday break started after our game on the twenty-third, and practice resumed the morning of the twenty-seventh.

It was Rook’s last Christmas break as a player. Varga had already announced that they were spending it at home, doing nothing, on purpose.

Trier: 24th. Morning flight. I head back to Chicago on the 26th.

Russ: Josh says that’s not a visit. He says it’s a layover.

“Josh has reviewed my itinerary,” I said, and tilted the screen so Mark could see.

He read it and chuckled. His breath was warm on my chest. “How long would he consider adequate?”

“Until he runs out of things to show me. He’s nine, so that’s never.”

I opened the airline app. There was a seven-ten out of O’Hare on the twenty-fourth, landing in Springfield before ten, and an afternoon flight back on the twenty-sixth. I put both in the cart.

Another message arrived.

Kelsey: Mom’s bringing the sweet potatoes. Your objections are already on file.

“What’s wrong with the sweet potatoes?” Mark asked.

“There’s a layer of marshmallows on top. It’s about an inch thick.”

“That’s traditional.”

“Under the marshmallows, there’s half an inch of sweet potato. Maybe less. It’s a marshmallow dish with a vegetable underneath for structural support.”

“Have you said this to her mother?”

“I said it to Kelsey. In writing. Three Christmases ago.”

“And the ratio hasn’t changed.”

“It’s gotten worse.”

Mark lifted his head to look at me. “Is Josh responsible for the ratio?”

“Josh supervises the marshmallows. He says the top has to be completely covered or it doesn’t count.”

“So he’s lobbying his grandmother.”

“Every year. She lets him put them on.”

“You’re outnumbered,” Mark said.