I pat her back. “You did great, Mom.”

“I’m sorry about the hockey boy.”

“His name is Randy, and me, too. The sex was really great.”

“I definitely didn’t need to know that.”

“I’ve seen Tim-Tom’s woody.”

“I think we should have a drink.”

I follow her out to the kitchen where she pours me a glass of wine, and we watch the hockey game. Toronto is playing Chicago. Randy’s beard is beautiful. He looks fantastic. And he scores a goal. My phone buzzes about half an hour after the game ends. I won’t lie; my entire being wants it to be Randy—from my hair follicles to my Vagina Emporium.

It’s not.

It’s Benji. I dropped his stuff off a few days ago. It went slightly better than I’d expected. He tried to convince me I was making a mistake by moving to Chicago, and that we should get back together. I pointed out that it definitely wouldn’t work with me moving. He got mad and then cried. It could’ve been way worse. But in my haste to leave, I forgot my box.

I groan and check the message. He’s letting me know Benny is stopping by in the morning with my stuff.

There’s some relief in not having to deal with him directly again. We have a lot of history, and I’m a little sad that this is how it’s ending, but I’m also aware that I’ll be back, and sometimes time and distance makes it easier to be friends. Who knows if that will ever happen with us.

I go to sleep with my suitcase taking up half my bed, and I wake up to my phone going off. It’s Benny. I forgot to set an alarm.

“I’ll be right down,” I tell him.

I pull a hoodie on over my tank top and shove my feet into my slippers. They’re huge and cumbersome, but at least they’re warm. Sunny got them for me for Christmas. I don’t bother checking my reflection in the mirror before I go down. Frankly, I don’t give a shit what I look like.

I close my eyes for the ride in the elevator. I have a headache. I only had one glass of wine, but it was a big one.

Benny’s car is parked in front of my building. I pad across the snowy sidewalk in my moose slippers. I’ll need to set them on a vent to dry, but I don’t want Benny to offer to bring my stuff up.

He gets out of the car. He’s got a beard going on. It’s neater than Benji’s, but when they both have one, they could pass for twins. He raises a brow at my outfit. “Looks like I woke you. I could’ve met you at the door.”

“It’s fine. I needed to get up anyway. Lots of packing to do.” I don’t have much left, but it’s something to say.

“So you’re moving to Chicago, eh?”

I shove my hands in the pouch of my hoodie. “Yeah.”

He nods. “Getting out of Guelph will be good for you.”

“I think so. How’s Benji?” I don’t ask because it feels obligatory; I’m honestly concerned, especially since he’s sent Benny in his place.

Benny shrugs. “You know how he is. He needs to start figuring out his life. You moving on might actually end up being a good thing for him, too.”

We leave the rest unsaid. Benji needs to do some growing up. “I hope so.”

“Me, too.” He sighs. “Let me get your stuff. I gotta get to work, and the snow’s making it hard today.”

“Yeah, of course.” I’m relieved he can’t stay and chat. Also, it’s freezing out, and my feet are going numb.

He opens the passenger door and pulls out a banker’s box. It’s stuffed with mostly useless crap. There’s a prom picture of me and Benji sitting on top. We broke up that night after one of the guys on the football team asked me to dance and Benji flipped his lid. It’s amazing how seven years of memories can be reduced to one cardboard box.

I tuck it under my arm and give Benny an awkward side-hug. It’s while I’m doing this that I notice an SUV driving by on a slow roll. Snow squeaks under the tires as it comes to a stop beside Benny’s car.

The man in the front seat makes eye contact as I disengage from Benny. I feel like I might be hallucinating, because it sure as hell looks like Randy. He starts rolling again, like he’s about to leave. Which doesn’t make sense if he drove here all the way from Toronto.

I’m in pajama pants with moose on them, my moose slippers, and a hoodie with stains. I haven’t brushed my teeth, and it’s damn well freezing out, but there’s no way he’s leaving before I find out why he came all the way here. If it’s him. Otherwise I’ll be embarrassed by what I’m about to do.

“Sorry, Benny, I gotta—” I drop the box in the snow, make wild flailing gestures, and start running. It’s as slippery as a pool of lube, but I’m determined to catch the guy before he blows the stop sign. I hope I’m not losing it and it’s actually Randy.

Thankfully he’s driving cautiously due to the heavy, unplowed snow. I’ve never been so grateful for poor city maintenance. He comes to a halt at the stop sign at the same time I throw myself over the hood. I grab hold where it meets the windshield and look up to find Randy’s stunned face staring back at me.

Sliding off the hood, I wrench open the passenger door and heave myself inside. I decide to play it cool. I pull the door shut and lean against it, going for casual even though I’m breathing like I’ve run a marathon, my shirt is soaked from the snowy hood, and I’m wearing moose slippers. “Hey.”