Dear Timmy, I’m his fake girlfriend.
“When I’m a hockey player, I’m gonna have thebestestgirlfriend ever, like you.”
“Come on, Timmy.” His mother taps him on his shoulder. “Let’s take a photo. Kaz is spending time with his gorgeous girlfriend, and we’re butting in. We don’t want to abuse his kindness.”
“’Kay.” Timmy turns to face me and flashes a grin that takes over his face, exposing his missing front teeth. Only kids who grew up in a loving household can smile with such levity. Pure joy radiates off this little boy.
You’re lucky, little man.
His mother stands behind him, her shoulders squared, a smile matching her son’s, stretching her lips.
Kaz flips his baseball cap backwards and stares at me.
Why is he frowning?“Kaz, say cheese.”
Timmy tilts his head way back. “You have to says cheese, Kaz. Like this.” He grins wide.
“Like this?” Kaz flashes some teeth.
“Bigger.” Timmy pulls at the corners of his lips with his fingers. “You got to showsallthe teeth.”
“I see.” Kaz winks.
Timmy giggles.
“Okay, gang, let’s try that again,” I say. “Say cheese.”
Kaz flashes a radiant smile at the camera that melts my panties.
Wow.
I take a flurry of photos from different angles. Before handing the woman’s phone back, I grab my phone from my bag. “Do you mind if I Airdrop these photos to my phone? I’m Mr. Lindström’s social manager, and these photos would be amazing on his socials, with your permission to use them, of course.”
“Oh my God. Of course you can use them. Hubby will be thrilled. It would be an honor,” the woman says. “Oh, and I am sorry. I thought you were his girlfriend.”
“That’s my second job.” I wink. And here I go selling the lie to one of Kaz’s fans.
She laughs. “Prettyandfunny. You lucked out, Kaz. I guess hockey players have their pick of the best of the bunch.”
Sorry to burst your bubble, lady, but it’s all smoke and mirrors.
When I’m done, I hand her back her phone. “Will you attend the upcoming charity hockey fundraiser?”
“Go, Enforcers!” Timmy yells and punches his little fist in the air.
His mother pulls him close. “It’s a little bit of a challenge for us. My husband works on weekends, but we’ve been donating every year. I know how charitable Kaz is—another feather in his cap?—”
“What feather in his cap means?”
“An achievement someone can be proud of, Timmy. Like when you get an A on your report card or when you hit a home run at T-ball.”
He nods. “I wants all the feathers in my cap.”
We laugh.
Even the grumpy hero doesn’t hold back a chuckle.
“We might not be there in person, but will be there in donation,” the woman says. “We don’t have millions, but every little bit counts, right?”
