Page 14

THE MOM TRAP

Tyler

One minute, you’re having a nice Sunday meal at your mom’s house. Chicken and risotto, with sautéed green beans, the kind of dinner your stepdad gets way too excited about. You helped him make it while your mom boasted—understandably—about a new trick she taught her four rescue pups.

Group shake. It’s so absurdly cute that you almost forget the chaos your family can bring to the table.

Almost.

The next minute, your fork is halfway to your mouth when your mom casually drops a bomb that makes you freeze.

“What did you just say?” I set my fork down, staring at her like she’s lost her mind.

My little sister, Charlie, grins like a sweet, sassy devil. “She said she hired Sabrina as the nanny,” she says, overly helpful, like I truly didn’t hear Mom when actually I can’t believe my ears .

At least Luna and Parker are in the other room, giggling over something the dogs are doing, since the kids already ate. Thank god. I don’t need them to hear this.

I drag a hand down my face and meet my mom’s gaze. “You hired Sabrina?” I sound as shocked as I feel. Because I am.

“Why wouldn’t I hire her?” Mom asks it with the same casual air she’d use to say is it sunny outside then she sips her iced tea.

Across the table, my older brother, Miles, looks like he’s choking back a laugh. His fist is pressed to his mouth, and his shoulders shake.

Harvey, my stepdad, catches on. “I have a feeling Miles might know why,” he says, his tone full of unspoken amusement.

Miles schools his expression immediately. “Sabrina sounds like a great idea.”

Traitor. If Leighton were here, she’d rein him in. But his girlfriend is off at a photo shoot. Though, come to think of it, she seems to enjoy trash-talking me too. Another reason they’re perfect together.

Mom sets her tea down, straightening her shoulders like she’s daring me to argue. “It is an excellent idea. She’s fantastic with children. Luna already adores her, and we all know Sabrina well enough. We trust her. She’s great at what she does.”

I groan, dropping my forehead into my palm. “This is bad. This is so bad.” Shit. Did I say that out loud? Now they’ll all know.

Mom’s eyes narrow into an inquisitive maternal stare. “Why is it bad?”

How do I even explain that blue balls are a real thing?

Not that I’m going to say that out loud.

And it’s more than that with Sabrina—I wanted to date her.

I wanted to take her out and show her how a man treats a woman in and out of bed because, clearly, she’d had none of that from the world’s worst ex.

And now I’m supposed to live with her? Every day? Irresistible Sabrina, who finds me completely resistible? “It’s just…a lot of Sabrina,” I mutter weakly.

With an eye roll, Charlie dramatically sets down her fork next to the special meatless risotto made for her and Luna.

“Oh my god,” she bursts out. “What he’s trying to say is that he has a raging, unrequited crush on her.

” Her voice is sugar-sweet, but her grin is pure devilry.

“It’s cute, really. Big, tough hockey player brought to his knees by his daughter’s skating coach. ”

I snap my gaze to my pink-haired sister. “Did I say that?”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I do not have a crush on her,” I lie through my teeth.

“You do too,” she says. I’ve never been able to fool her.

“Enough,” I growl.

Mom’s lips twitch. “Well, if you do have a crush on her, that’s understandable. She’s delightful. Beautiful. Caring.”

She’s so much more than that. She’s fierce and strong.

She speaks her mind and goes after what she wants.

I met her last season when she performed at our arena one night, and yes, at first it was infatuation.

As I got to know her during Luna’s lessons, the more the crush intensified.

Then, after her almost wedding night, the crush swelled into… feelings.

Fucking feelings.

I hate feelings.

Especially the way they crashed and burned when we agreed to never speak of that night again.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, firmly shoving aside those pesky feelings. “I thought she was pretty. That’s it. No big deal.” If I don’t shut this down, my family will never let it go .

Mom tilts her head thoughtfully. “Would you like me to fire her?”

“What? No!” It comes out sharp, and the room goes quiet for a second. I look around the table with the feeling I’ve just walked into a trap.

Harvey chimes in, deadpan, “Of course, if you can live with yourself for firing her when she’s clearly grateful for the job and excellent for it, I think that’s fine too.”

“I mean, if it’s going to be too hard for you, Tyler,” Mom says, all calm practicality, “living with such a lovely, competent, capable woman. If you think you can’t handle it…”

I groan again, scrubbing a hand down the back of my neck. “Family,” I mutter.

Miles leans back in his chair, smirking. “Family is hard, little brother.”

“You’re telling me. And no, of course I don’t want you to fire her.” But that raises a question. I point a finger at Mom. “Why did you even hire her?”

She arches a brow, entirely unrepentant. “You told me to.”

“I didn’t tell you to hire Sabrina!”

“I believe your exact words were, ‘Go for it.’”

“You didn’t tell me that’s what you were up to,” I sputter.

“Of course I didn’t.” She is unperturbable. “Because I was helping you.”

Damn it. She’s right. I told her she could hire anyone. I just didn’t think anyone would be the woman I can’t stop thinking about.

Back at our house that night, I tuck my son into bed.

After a flutter of his eyes and a long yawn, I set the space explorer book on Parker’s nightstand and turn down the light.

But instead of the usual muffled “Night, Dad,” he lets out the world’s longest sigh.

That’s not the kind of sigh you expect from an eight-year-old. It’s an old-soul sigh.

“What’s going on, buddy?” I ask, ruffling his hair.

He flips over in the darkness of his room, lit only by the glow-in-the-dark stickers of moons and stars he plastered to the ceiling.

“Agatha helped me with those,” he says, pointing at the stickers.

I helped too, but I figure that’s not worth mentioning right now. “I remember. We hauled up the ladder from the garage a few weeks ago.”

“She helped me figure out where to put all of them.”

“They look great,” I say, admiring the constellations—or at least, I think some of them are constellations. I definitely don’t know my astronomy. I squint at the configurations. “Is one of them the Big Dipper?”

Pretty sure the Big Dipper is supposed to look like a cup, and none of these shapes do, but that’s okay.

Parker points to a shape right above him that looks a little more like a bowl. “It’s right there.”

“Cool. What other constellations do you have?” I ask, even though I don’t think he really wants to talk about constellations. I think he just wants to talk.

He turns his face toward me slowly, his blue eyes giving me a curious look, his floppy hair falling over his forehead. He’s pure Elle, especially with his love of science.

“The Big Dipper isn’t a constellation, Dad.”

Oh. “I didn’t know that,” I say, feeling a little chastised.

“People think it is,” Parker says, then clucks his tongue. “Agatha knew the constellations.”

And there it is. He misses her. “Yeah, she was good with all that stuff.”

“The seven stars of the Big Dipper are actually part of Ursa Major. People call it the Great Bear. Do you know what the Big Dipper actually is?”

I give a small smile and shake my head. “I think we’ve already established the stars and skies aren’t my strong suit, kid. Why don’t you tell me?”

That earns me a smile from Parker who says, “It’s called an aster…” He gets stuck on the term. “An aster?—”

“An asteroid?” I supply, though I know that’s not right.

“No! It’s an asterism,” he says, blowing out a triumphant but relieved breath, even as his tongue tangles on the unusual word.

“I have no idea what an asterism is.”

“It’s a bunch of stars within a constellation,” he explains, then points at the ceiling and shows me how the cup—or the bowl—forms part of the Great Bear, which kind of looks more like a blob.

“And I learned something new today,” I say.

He sighs again and is quiet for several seconds. “I wanted to put more stars on the ceiling,” he says, like he had his whole heart set on it.

“What’s stopping us? We can do it together.”

“I don’t know. I mean, I guess, if you want to.”

“Of course I want to. Why wouldn’t I?”

He flips over again, facing away. “But I don’t know if the new nanny is going to want to.”

I ruffle his hair once more. “I bet she’ll be really happy to help put more stars on the ceiling.”

“Maybe,” he says, picking at the edge of his midnight-blue blanket, the color of the night sky.

I drop a kiss on his forehead. “We’ll get more constellations up there. Asterisms too. I promise.”

“Okay, Dad,” he says, his eyes drifting closed.

“Maybe even asteroids,” I add.

He laughs. “We’ll see. ”

But as I leave, he sighs again, and my heart squeezes.

The thing they don’t tell you about parenting? Your heart aches every time your kid’s does.

If I thought my immediate family was bad, they’re nothing compared to my hockey fam. Specifically, my single dad friends.

We’re all at the gym on Fillmore Street early the next morning, squeezing in a workout on an off day.

I’ve dropped Luna and Parker at school already, assuring Parker we’d be picking up star stickers this coming weekend.

Even though he has to wait all week, he seemed happy enough about that.

His sister, a busy bee and social butterfly, raced off into the building with a quick goodbye.

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Rowan Bishop says, leaning against the pull-up bar with his signature scowl. “Later today, the woman you’ve been crushing on is actually going to be moving in with you?”

I pull down on the fly machine, my grip tightening with every word. “Yes.”