Page 23

23

FORD

My parents have been here a few days, but I haven’t seen much of them.

The team practiced on Friday, then had a game on Long Island Saturday night, which isn’t an overnight trip, but then a home game the very next day.

Finally, I have a day off on Monday.

The worst thing about this is not seeing Andi much.

Andi and Tilly and my parents did come to the Sunday game, so she got to spend time with them.

Which freaked her the fuck out.

I listened to her apprehension and reluctance, then set my hands on her shoulders, kissed her to shut her up, and said, “I want you there.”

Mom and Dad take Tilly and me shopping and buy a bunch of gifts for Tilly—toys, books, weird little clothes.

I’m not even kidding—a pink onesie and flowered bell-bottom pants—she can’t even walk!

—a one-piece furry outfit with ears that looks like a bear, and a set of footie rompers in navy, brown, and beige.

“These are gender-neutral colors,” Mom says.

“Pink is cute, but she doesn’t have to wear pink.”

I hold back my smile.

“True.”

We have lunch at a family-type restaurant.

While we try to keep Tilly amused, Mom says, “So tell me the truth about Andi.”

I blink over at her.

“The truth?”

“Yes.” One corner of her mouth lifts in a half-smile.

“You said she’s a friend, but she’s clearly much more than that.”

“Uh…”

“The way you both look at each other. The way you talk to each other. The care you take with each other.” She tilts her head and lifts her eyebrows.

I glance at Dad.

He, too, waits expectantly.

Huh.

“Okay.” I rub the back of my neck.

“We’re more than friends. But it’s not… neither of us wants to get involved seriously. She just got out of a marriage where her husband cheated on her.”

“Oh, no!” Mom’s hand flies to her mouth.

“That poor girl.”

“And you know I don’t have time for a relationship. I’m focused on hockey.”

She regards me thoughtfully.

“Yes. You always have been.”

“Don’t worry. I know how much you did for me and what you sacrificed so I could play. I won’t let you down by not doing my best.” I pause.

“I owe you that.”

Once again, she’s silent and I give Tilly another toy.

“That’s wrong,” she finally says.

“What’s wrong?”

“You don’t owe us anything.”

I stare blankly at her.

“I feel like I do.”

“You shouldn’t feel like that. Is that what motivates you to work so hard?”

“Yeah.” I pause.

“Some.”

She shakes her head.

“You shouldn’t want to work hard for us. We don’t expect that. Children don’t owe their parents anything. Even gratitude. Although I’m glad you feel gratitude. That’s important for a happy life. But we did everything we did because we love you. Not because we expect anything from you in return. You’ve been very generous to us and we appreciate that. I hope you don’t do that because you think we expect it.”

“Uh. No. No, I did those things because… I love you, too.”

“Exactly.” She smiles.

“And you should play hockey because you love it. Not because you owe us.”

“I do love it.”

“Good.” She squeezes my hand.

“I have a poem by Khalil Gibran that I love that I’ll send you about having children.”

Khalil Gibran.

That is so Mom.

“Now. Back to Andi. She’s a lovely young woman. So bright! So cheerful and positive. And she loves Tilly.”

“Yeah.”

“And I think she cares a lot about you.”

I don’t reply to that.

What’s happening between Andi and me has changed for sure, but I keep telling myself that when it ends, it ends, just like we said.

“I worry she could get hurt,” Mom says softly.

“We agreed what this is.” No commitment, no expectations, no catching feelings.

We’ve been sticking to that.

“That’s good. I feel like you two have gotten involved, though. So whatever you agreed to in the beginning might not fit anymore.”

Ugh.

I clear my throat and shift in my chair.

She’s nailed what I’ve been thinking.

Talking to my mom about this is weird.

“I understand.”

“Okay. We’re going home this afternoon. We’ve been away for so long, I’ll be happy to get home. But I hope you’ll invite us to come visit and spend time with Tilly again.”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen when Willa comes back.”

“I know.” Her forehead creases.

“I hate that for you. But we’re here if you need us, for advice, or anything.”

“You need a lawyer,” Dad says gruffly.

“I’ve thought of that,” I admit.

“It’s so weird because when she first left Tilly with us, I was so mad, I couldn’t wait to get rid of her. I don’t feel like that anymore.”

“Us.”

I blink at Mom.

“What?”

“You said ‘us.’ When Willa first left Tilly with us.” She smiles.

“You are an us. You just haven’t accepted it yet.”

Oh, hell.

That’s not true.

Is it?

“I didn’t go to the Halloween party this year because of having Tilly. It’s a big thing. Everyone gets really dressed up.”

“Like what?” Andi grins.

“What did you go as last year?”

“I went as Colonel Sanders. And Smitty went as a chicken. Here, I’ll show you.” I swipe my phone to find the pics from last year.

She cracks up.

“That’s amazing.”

“Yeah.” I smile.

“Anyway, I want to go to the Thanksgiving party. And you should come.”

We don’t get a lot of time off for Thanksgiving, so there’s no time for guys to go home.

Usually, a few people host a get-together so we can be with our hockey family for the holiday.

This year it’s Ben and Mabel hosting.

“Okay. Sure.” She nods.

I can see she’s hesitant.

But everybody knows about us now.

Everybody who has access to the internet.

Including my parents.

I move closer and cup her face in my hands.

Looking into her eyes, I murmur, “It’ll be fine.” I kiss her forehead.

I feel her soften.

Her eyes close.

She nods.

We arrive at Ben’s place with a big pot of Andi’s beer meatballs, along with wine and beer.

I convinced Andi to make the meatballs with Pig Porter and they’re fucking delicious.

And of course we have Tilly in her car seat.

I set her on the floor.

She fell asleep on the way over and stays asleep.

“I’ll take that food off your hands,” Smitty says, greeting us at the door.

“Haha. Make sure it gets to the kitchen.” I hand over the pot and Andi sets the bag of beverages on the floor while we take off our jackets.

“You can put your jackets in the spare bedroom,” Mabel calls from the kitchen.

I take Andi’s and drop both on the bed, then join her at the big kitchen counter where Mabel is pouring Andi a glass of rosé wine.

Tilly snoozes on the floor at Andi’s feet.

“Thanks,” Andi says.

I grab a beer and crack it open.

“Do you think there’s enough food?”

Mabel grins and surveys the many dishes on the counter.

“You guys really came through.”

There’s a football game on the big TV in the living room where a bunch of the guys lounge with snacks and drinks.

“Anything I can help with?” Andi asks Mabel.

“I think we’re okay at the moment. I made the turkey yesterday, and Ben carved it.”

“Butchered it, more like,” Ben mutters.

“I don’t know how to carve a fucking turkey.”

I laugh.

“It can’t be that hard.”

“We watched on YouTube,” Mabel says.

“I don’t know if it helped.”

“YouTube’s been very helpful for learning about baby things,” Andi says, smiling.

“Since neither Ford nor I had a clue. Although all those videos about burping the baby turn out to be untrue. Apparently studies have shown that babies who aren’t burped don’t cry more or have more spit ups. You have to do your research.”

“What!” Mabel’s mouth drops open.

“Everyone does that!”

“I know!” Andi nods.

“And I was so diligent about that,” I say sadly.

“I was always so proud when I got a good belch.”

Andi laughs.

“You still do it.”

I shrug.

“I know it apparently doesn’t help, but it doesn’t hurt either.”

Mabel and Andi get into a conversation about their jobs.

Mabel’s a librarian and Andi’s interested in that.

“The other day I was reading to some little kids and I was showing them pictures of animal feet and asking what animal they belong to,” Mabel says.

“I showed them a picture of a squirrel foot, all skinny and hairy with long claws, and one kid said, ‘That’s my dad’s feet.’”

“Oh my God!” Andi cracks up, as do the rest of us listening.

“Dad needs a pedicure.”

“Right?” Mabel giggles.

“Kids are so fun. Do you know what the world’s smallest mammal is?”

I grin at Mabel’s random question.

“No,” Andi says, smiling.

“Tell me.”

“The butterfly bat. It weighs less than an ounce!”

“Where do you find these bats?” Andi asks warily.

“Thailand.” Mabel makes a face.

“I’d love to see them.”

“I don’t really like bats,” Andi confesses.

“They’re so small though! And bats are important. They pollinate fruits and eat mosquitoes.”

Andi nods doubtfully.

“That’s why Batman chose the name Batman,” I say.

Mabel and Andi both turn big eyes on me.

“What? Why?” Andi says.

“Because most people are afraid of bats. He wanted his enemies to be afraid of him.”

“Whoa.” Mabel seems impressed.

“I did not know that.”

“What weird conversation are you having over here?” Benny asks, walking around the counter and up to Mabel.

He slides an arm around her waist and pulls her close with an affectionate smile.

“Are you pestering them with weird questions?”

“Of course I am. But I’m learning things!”

“Amazing. I thought you knew everything.”

Mabel swats his chest gently at his teasing and they share a smile that’s so warm and devoted it gives me a pang in my chest.

“Okay!” Mabel claps her hands.

“We’re going to play a game. For anyone who’s not watching football.”

“Oh, boy. What game?” Benny asks.

Mabel holds up her phone.

“It’s called Head to Head. It’s an app. Sort of like charades, except we can talk. We split into teams, and one team holds the phone up to their forehead.” She demonstrates, the screen facing out.

“And the app gives a phrase or a word or whatever. The other team has to give me clues so I can guess what it is.”

I exchange a look with Andi.

She smiles and shrugs, apparently game.

“You can’t say the word, spell it out, or use a word that rhymes,” she adds.

“Okay let’s make teams. I want Andi on my team.”

“Girls against guys?” Benny says dryly.

“No, that would not be fair to you guys,” Mabel says seriously, eliciting a rumble of protest from the men.

She winks.

“We’ll mix it up.”

We’re in teams of four—Andi, Mabel, Dilly and Crusher, versus me, Benny, Smitty, and his date, Bristol.

Looks like maybe he’s over Nikki Sullivan, the pop star he had that crush on.

“Who wants to go first?” Mabel asks.

“You go,” we all say.

“Okay. There are different categories,” Mabel adds.

“Let’s do Pop Culture. Okay. Gather around!” She starts the game and holds the phone up to her forehead.

We all crack up to see “ice skating.”

“What’s so funny?” She frowns.

“Hmmm. Can I act it out?” I ask.

“Yes!”

I start “skating,” swinging my arms and pushing out my feet.

She stares blankly at me.

“There are blades on his feet,” Benny says.

“Oh! Skating!”

“Too easy.” I shake my head.

Mabel passes the phone to Andi.

She makes a face but goes with it.

I screw up my face seeing the name, and look at my teammates.

“It’s a name. First and last name,” I say.

Benny holds out his left hand and points at his ring finger.

“Ring? Diamond?” Andi guesses.

“Close,” Benny says.

“A really big diamond.”

“Rock?”

“Yeah! Okay, second name.”

“Another name for penis,” Bristol says.

Andi laughs.

“Oh, boy. Cock? Dick?”

“No, no.”

“Member? Dong? Wang?”

We’re shaking our heads but also dying of laughter.

“Oh! Prick!”

“No!”

“Tool? Joystick?”

I almost fall down laughing.

“One-eyed trouser snake!”

“It’s also a name,” Bristol says, trying to breathe.

Andi’s brows join above her nose.

“I said Dick already.”

“That’s not it.”

She thinks.

“Oh! Johnson!” She frowns.

“Rock?” I can’t believe she does it, but just under the wire she cries, “Dwayne Johnson!”

Okay.

My teammates and I are super competitive and we’re losing, so we get a little intense.

We mime putting on makeup when it’s Sephora and sing “This ain’t Texas” but Dilly doesn’t get that it’s Beyoncé.

It’s our turn and we start getting pissy when we miss three in a row.

“This is a stupid game,” Smitty says.

Everyone laughs.

“Oh, come on, it’s fun,” Mabel says.

We lose that first round.

“Let’s go again,” I say challengingly.

“We’re getting the hang of this.” But then I realize what time it is.

“Oh wait, I have to wake up Tilly.”

“Just let her sleep,” Benny says.

“No can do. We’re on a schedule.”

“Ford…” Andi murmurs.

“What?”

“You can let the schedule go for today. You’re at a party.”

I purse my lips.

“I guess.”

She moves closer and whispers in my ear.

“Remember? Don’t let your need for control and perfection cause you to miss out on things.”

She said that when the guys threw the baby shower.

And she’s right.

“Okay.” I smile down at her.

But then Tilly wakes up anyway and squawks.

So much for that.

I meet Andi’s eyes and we both shrug.

I crouch down to lift Tilly from her seat.

She’s surly, too.

“Need a diaper change?” I ask her.

“Yes, you do. And you’re probably hungry.”

“Want me to do it?” Andi offers.

“Nah, I got this. Who wants to take my place?” I call out.

Alfie heads over and I carry Tilly and her diaper bag into the room where we left our coats.

I’m on the floor changing her diaper when Mabel peeks in.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” I smile at her.

“That was fun.”

“Yeah. How’s Tilly doing?” She advances into the room with her glass of wine and perches on the bed.

I like Mabel.

She and I have a connection, I think because we’re both a little different.

She’s bubbly and fun and says whatever she’s thinking, which sometimes causes people to think she’s a flake.

But she’s definitely not.

“Good.” I tape the diaper closed.

Tilly kicks her little legs and grins up at me.

“Let’s get your pants back on, niblet.” I pick up the little blue jeans and shake them out, then work them onto her.

“You look so natural doing that,” Mabel says.

I grin at her.

“It didn’t feel very natural at first. I’m still terrified I don’t know what I’m doing.” I tug Tilly’s beige cashmere sweater down over her tummy.

Yes, I splurged.

It’s super soft.

“I think all parents feel that way. It’s so weird, isn’t it? A few months ago, you were swearing you’d never have kids. And then this happens.”

“Weird,” I agree.

“And I told you maybe one day you’d meet a woman you want to have a family with.”

I tilt my head to one side, not sure where this is going.

“Is that Andi?” she asks softly.

My head snaps up to look at her.

“She came to the game,” Mabel says.

“With Tilly. And they looked so cute together. Natural. Like you.” She nods.

“And I saw the way you looked at them.”

“Aaaabababaga,” Tilly says.

I pick her up.

“Yeah.”

“You’re obviously more than friends.”

Jesus.

What is it?

My mom said the same thing.

We must look like we constantly want to jump each other and ball our brains out.

“Yeah, we are.”

Mabel gives a tiny squeal.

“I knew it. I’m so happy for you.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s serious,” I object, but it’s weak.

Very weak.

Because I’m feeling kind of serious about Andi.

Like, I hate it when she’s not around.

My day feels brighter when she is.

I love just talking to her.

Mabel cocks her head.

“Okay.” She pauses.

“You’re not taking advantage of her, are you?”

I scowl.

“What does that mean?”

“It would be shitty if you were sleeping with her to keep her around to help with Tilly.”

My jaw drops and nearly smacks Tilly’s head.

“What! That’s bullshit.”

“I’m just saying.” She lifts one shoulder.

“That is not what’s happening,” I growl.

“Not even close.”

“Does she know that?”

I narrow my eyes at her.

“Of course she does.”

“Okay.” She smiles.

“I just know how single minded you can be. Especially about hockey.”

I dip my chin in agreement.

“I would hate for you to be so inflexible that you would miss out on something great.”

I gaze back at her.

Just what Andi said— don’t let your need for control and perfection cause you to miss out on things .

“I get it.”

She studies my face.

“Okay, good.” She stands.

“If you ever want me to babysit while you two go out on a date, I’d be happy to. I love that baby.”

I stand, too.

“Um, thanks.”