I’m silent as I consider my future against another year at Valley.

“With the new NCAA rules, you can talk with an agent without declaring for the draft. If you want me to set anything up, just let me know. I know I’m not telling you anything you don’t know, but as much as I’d like to keep you here next year, it might be good to keep your options open.”

I glance around my favorite spot on campus, maybe in all of Valley, and try and picture tomorrow being my last time playing in Ray Fieldhouse. “Thanks, Coach.”

“Also.” He clears his throat. “I wanted to apologize for last night. I didn’t mean to steal your reservation.”

I smirk. “Araceli’s is the best, right?”

He chuckles. “It was perfect.”

“And the woman?”

“Well, I’m not sure there’s going to be another date, but she was less awful than the last one. Do yourself a favor and when you find a good woman in your twenties, marry her. Dating after thirty is awful.”

“Well, I’m in no rush for marriage, but the advice is noted.”

“And the young woman you were with last night? She aware of that? She looked pretty smitten.”

“She’s aware.”

Maybe too aware of my past. She seems to be constantly waiting for me to move along and maybe I should before things get too messy.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He nods, eyebrows raised. “Sure.”

“Ever date a single mom?”

Understanding dawns on his face and he eyes me with something like pity as he puts the pieces together.

“Yeah, I have. Nothing serious, though. My experience with dating women with kids is there’s no half ass. It’s either serious or it’s not and they usually go into the relationship already expecting one or the other. If your girl really is aware that you’re not looking for anything serious right now, then I’d say she’s already made her peace with that.”

I consider that. Has Kitty put me in the nothing serious column? She should. Isn’t that what I’ve done to her and every other girl since Polly?

But fuck, why does that annoy me so much?

23

KATRINA

I’m all smiles as I bring the box from the door to the living room. “Christian, you got mail.”

His eyes light up at the box with his name written in large black letters.

“Who’s it from?”

I already know, but I’m not sure exactly how to explain, so I ignore his question by distracting him. “Let’s see what’s inside!”

As he tries to tear into the box, failing to rip past the heavy mailing tape, I grab scissors from the kitchen and then re-join him on the floor. “Here let me help.”

A few quick cuts and Joel’s scent permeates the air.

Christian dives for the open box, pulling out a mini basketball and a foam finger with the Valley U branding. I can’t help but laugh.

While he’s busy pulling out enough Valley basketball merchandise to outfit an entire cheering crowd, I text Joel.