Page 37

ANDI

August

The heat and humidity have been stifling all day.

The overcast sky is gloomy.

But it’s not dampening the mood of our housewarming party.

We’re in the back yard of our new house, which we moved into last month.

It’s a beautiful space, with a stone patio, flowerbeds full of perennials, and lots of comfortable chairs.

Ford is over starting the barbecue, talking to Marek and Ben.

More of their teammates are by the cooler.

My parents and Ford’s parents are seated around a table, talking away.

“Mama!” Tilly comes running across the patio, her steps still a little choppy.

“Mama!”

When she first started calling me that, I thought my heart would burst.

And I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do.

Ford and I talked about it.

Of course she sees me as her mother, even though we’ve told her about Willa.

We’ve told her how much Willa loved her.

She’s still pretty young to understand all that, though.

I crouch down to her level.

“What, honey bun?”

“Kiki.” She gestures.

“What’s wrong with Kiki?”

“Baba ga met buh.” She points, her expression serious.

“Oh.” I have no idea what she’s saying.

At fifteen months old, she talks up a storm with facial expressions and gestures and we have entire conversations.

She seems to know exactly what she’s saying, even if nobody else does.

It’s adorable.

“Pay,” she says, frowning.

“You want to play with Kiki?”

“Yuh!”

“Okay, where is she?” I take her hand.

At that moment, Kiki appears, gamboling across the patio toward us.

We just got her a few weeks ago from Bright Side, where I still volunteer.

She’s a mix of something with a lot of Australian Shepherd so I fell in love with her.

She’s a year old, so she’s still very puppyish.

Chasing her are Cain and Alec, Holly and Turks’ two boys.

And behind them is Elodie, looking frazzled.

“Kiki!” I crouch again and she runs to me.

She’s so pretty.

I give her a rub.

“Good girl.”

“Googrrr,” Tilly repeats.

“Yeah, that’s it. Can you say dog?”

She gazes back at me.

“Dog.”

Nope.

She’s not going to say it.

Smiling, I shake my head.

“She was upset that the boys wouldn’t let her play with the dog,” Elodie says.

I make a face at her, then look at Tilly.

“You have to share the puppy.”

“Mine.” She’s developing a personality, including temper tantrums and mischievousness.

“Yes, she’s yours, but you have her all the time and Cain and Alec don’t.”

“Let’s get ice cream,” Elodie says to the boys.

They bounce across the patio with her.

“You can pet Kiki.” I hold Kiki still.

“No.” She shakes her head and points across the patio where the boys went.

“Eyes.”

“You want ice cream?”

“Yuh!”

“Of course you do.”

After the playoffs ended, we looked at a short list of homes I’d put together and loved this one—a five-bedroom, three-and-a-half-bath Colonial in Essex County that’s mostly been updated.

It’s not too far from the arena and practice facility for Ford, and I can work anywhere.

This house has a beautiful office with French doors separating it from the living room and big windows looking into the back yard.

I freaked out at the price, but Ford talked me down.

Not that I’m broke, but he has more money than I’ve ever imagined having.

Tilly and I follow Elodie and we get the kids ice cream.

“Are you having fun?” I ask Elodie with a smirk.

“I do like kids, but holy shit, the energy. Oops.” She covers her mouth with her hand.

“I know, right?”

Ford joins us.

“We’ll be ready to cook in a few minutes.”

“Okay. Let’s bring the food out.”

Elodie and Ford follow me inside, Holly keeping an eye on Tilly.

The kitchen is bright and big, and I have hotdogs, hamburgers and chicken breasts ready to go on the grill.

Ford picks up one tray and disappears outside again.

“How’s business going?” Elodie asks me.

“Ohhh, pretty good. I’m done with a couple of contracts now.”

“And you’re not going to look for new business.”

“Not right now.”

“I can’t believe how much you’ve cut back.” She shakes her head.

“You, the workaholic.”

I wrinkle my nose.

“I know.”

She opens her mouth but hesitates.

“Okay, I’m going to ask you something. Does cutting back on your work have anything to do with your marriage ending?”

I blink at her.

“I always had the feeling that you blame yourself for Trevor cheating on you. Because you worked so much.”

I suck on my bottom lip.

“Not that you were responsible,” she adds.

“He’s an asswipe. But…” Her forehead creases.

“Are you cutting back on your work to try to keep that from happening again?”

I look across the room.

She’s right.

I did blame myself.

And I thought I was over that.

Is that why I’ve reduced my client list?

“Are you mad at me?” Elodie asks, forehead creased.

“No. No.” I turn back to her.

“I’m seriously thinking about it, because it’s a good question.”

“Okay.”

“No. That’s not why I’ve reduced my workload. I know my workaholic tendencies were an attempt to boost my self-esteem. To make me feel like my goals mattered as much as Trevor’s. But I don’t feel like that with Ford. And I know that Trevor alone is responsible for his cheating. The truth is, it was really hard, working long hours when the team got into the playoffs, and then house hunting, and moving two places, selling our condos. Decorating this place.” I wave a hand.

“I was looking at veterinary technologist programs, at community college. It’s not a veterinarian degree, but it’s a shorter program and I’d be working with animals.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” I smile.

“Ford encouraged me to look into schools, even if I wanted to become a Doctor of Veterinarian Medicine. He wanted me to have my dream. But I still love my work, and life is really full right now and…” I stop.

And swallow past the catch in my esophagus.

I meet her eyes.

“And I love it. I love them.”

Elodie smiles and hugs me.

“I’m happy for you, hon.”

I squeeze her back.

“Thank you.”

She draws back.

“But I can’t believe you sent clients to Haven!”

“She’s good at her job.” I pull condiments out of the fridge.

“I’m over it all. Things haven’t worked out so well for her. I know it’s not my problem, but I feel bad for her. She’s a single mom and that’s not easy.”

“You’re a better person than I am.”

“Eh.” I shake my head.

“No, I’m not.”

“Have you heard anything from her?”

“No. It doesn’t matter. Can you carry these out?” I indicate the tray of condiments, paper plates, cups, and cutlery.

“Sure.”

I pick up the tray of chicken breasts and we go back out.

Ford’s teammates are all yakking away, happy and relaxed.

Most of them went away to other homes for the summer and are now returning to New Jersey as training camp starts in a couple of weeks.

I think they had a good summer and a much-needed rest after grueling playoffs.

Ford was nominated for the Vezina Trophy, but he didn’t win.

He didn’t win the Jennings Trophy either, which is awarded to the goalie with the fewest goals scored against him.

I knew he’d be disappointed, and he was a bit, but his attitude about that has changed.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t work just as hard; he totally does.

And he played fantastic in the playoffs.

But that’s what matters to him—playing the best he can for his teammates and the fans.

The awards are nice, but not the most important thing.

He smiles down at me when I set down the chicken.

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Hi. You ready to cook?”

“With you?” He gives me a dirty smirk.

“Always.”

“Haha.” I grin.

“I know.”

He moves closer.

“It’s not that I’m always horny,” he says in my ear.

“It’s just that you’re always sexy.”

I look up at him through my eyelashes.

“Sweet talker.”

“Just wait till later. I’ll sweet talk you out of your clothes and into bed.”

“Get a room,” Marek says to us, shaking his head.

I grin.

There’s more puppy and child commotion around us and while Ford cooks I deal with that, until Grandma and Grandpa (Archibald) come and take Tilly and my parents take Kiki.

I move around and talk to the other WAGs who are there, sip a glass of wine, and occasionally supervise the barbecue.

Just as we’re about to eat, the thunderstorm that’s been threatening all day arrives with a loud clap of thunder.

Rain pelts down as everyone grabs stuff and runs for the house.

“Oh, noooo!” I cry as I try to corral a frisky pup and a toddler who wants to stand in the rain.

Inside, everyone’s laughing and shaking water off themselves.

“It couldn’t have held off just a little longer?” I complain.

“It’s fine,” Ford says.

“We’ll just move in here.”

I give him a long look.

“What?”

I grin.

“ You’re the one calming me down about the change in plans.”

“He’s a new man,” Ben says with a laugh and a clap on Ford’s shoulder.

“Mr. Chill.”

“As if,” Mabel scoffs.

“He’s still as anal as ever.”

“Don’t say that word.” Ben winces.

Mabel bursts out laughing.

“Why, honey? What’s wrong with it?”

“Uh oh. Someone had a bad experience,” Crusher speaks up.

“You need lots of lube for that, you know.”

It’s a good thing our kitchen is big, as everyone crowds around the island.

Ford finds an umbrella and goes out to finish cooking.

Our dining table isn’t big enough for everyone, but we all find places to sit.

Ford sits with Tilly, cutting up her hot dog, dishing out some pasta from the salad for her.

It’s a little chaotic and not exactly what I planned, but it’s fine.

Later, when our guests have departed, Tilly’s in bed, and Kiki is conked out on the rug in the living room, Ford takes my hand and pulls me through the living room and into the TV room, which has a built-in desk at one end.

This is his office.

Apparently, he needs an office.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I have something to show you.”

“Oooh. That sounds fun.”

“Okay, who’s the perv now?”

I laugh.

“I can’t top you.”

“True. But I’m a perv in a romantic way.”

I kiss his cheek.

He picks up an envelope off the desk, opens it, and hands me some papers.

“What is this?” I glance up at him.

“The paperwork for you to adopt Tilly.”

I suck in a breath and press my hand to my throat where my heart has lodged.

It’s not a surprise.

We talked about it.

I want to do it.

He wants me to do it.

We cried.

But it’s really happening.

I look back up at him with misty eyes.

“Thank you.”

He smiles, a smile so full of love and affection and support.

“This makes me happy, too.”

“I’m glad.”

I’m going to be Tilly’s mom, officially.

I love her so much.

Someone asked me the other day how I could love her since she’s not my biological child.

I thought that was such a stupid question.

We love all kinds of people who aren’t biologically related to us.

There are many kinds of love.

I think no two are the same.

Love is different for different people.

It’s also complicated.

I want only the best for Tilly, but I also know that’s not possible.

There will be times she will be hurt.

There will be times she is sad.

There will be times she disappoints me or makes me angry.

But I will always love her.

The love I have for Ford is different, but no less complex.

I expect it will grow and change as we do.

He, too, will likely make me angry.

We might hurt each other.

As with Tilly, I would take away any of his pain if I could.

I like Ford and have fun with him.

We were friends first.

But there’s also the sexual attraction.

Affection.

Loyalty.

And more.

Love isn’t all hugs and kisses and puppies and kittens.

It’s hard.

It’s vulnerable.

It’s sacrifice.

It’s hurting when someone else hurts.

Because of all those things, it takes courage to love.

I thought it was better to be alone than to get hurt again.

I questioned my judgment.

And I was afraid.

Afraid to fall in love and then lose it again.

Afraid of being betrayed or rejected again.

Afraid to trust the wrong person.

And afraid there was something wrong with me.

I almost let those fears get in the way of loving Ford and being with him.

But I chose love.