“My best friend Bree and I got tattoos together. Hers is a book—she became an author. Mine is a constellation. Mygrandmother always said, ‘Shoot for the moon, and if you miss, at least you’ll land among the stars.’” I trace the shape on the water’s surface with my finger.
“I like that.”
“Seemed fitting.”
“So how did you get into baking?”
“My grandmother left me the Busy Bee. Some days I wonder if I’m doing right by her memory.”
“If your baked goods could speak for themselves, they’d give you a rave review.”
A faint laugh burbles inside.
Lane asks, “Do you miss skating?”
“I don’t think about it. But it’s not like I regret taking over the bakery. In fact, I love it. It’s my life.” But a pesky nudge inside, like Bibi’s nisser gnomes that started on New Year’s Eve, suggests I make room for more than measuring ingredients, answering oven timers, and serving up baked goods.
“I know something about injuries, too,” he says, rubbing his shoulder again. “Let mine go too long. Too prideful to admit something was truly wrong. I paid for it and then some.”
The conversation flows more easily now, like the warm water has dissolved a barrier between us.
He tells me about losing his mother when he was twelve, how he and his sister Desiree mostly raised themselves after that. His father remarried after he and his sister had both grown up. He sings his stepmother’s praises but doesn’t say much else about the famed Lane Sheridan Senior.
“What’s your relationship with your parents like?”
“My mother left when I was little.”
“Wait, so you don’t talk to her?”
I shake my head. “Papa—my dad—moved back to Denmark when he hung up his skates.” I shrug, trying to keep it light. “We chat on birthdays and holidays, but we’re not especiallyclose. When I was a kid, his away-game schedule and practices at home meant we kind of got used to living apart. I spent most of my time with my grandmother, then he sent me to boarding school. After that, college.”
The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable, just thoughtful. I realize my cheeks must be bright pink from the heat, and I laugh. “I probably look like a lobster right now.”
His eyes on me could be the reason I’m burning up, but they’re sparkly and soft, making me want to close the distance between us and feel his arms around me.
But that’s foolish. I made a promise. Then again, Lane and I also took vows.
After a few more minutes, he gets out and holds out my towel. After changing, we go briefly up to his condo. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I’m struck by how empty it is. And coming from someone who is a self-professed minimalist and prefers décor in the Skandi tradition—except at Christmastime—that’s saying something.
“Do you actually live here, or is this just where you store your hockey gear?” I tease, taking in the bare walls and sparse furniture.
He chuckles. “I’m embracing the artistic concept of negative space. For instance, that bare wall really highlights the placement of that lamp over there.”
For a moment, I think he’s serious, but the amusement on his features suggests otherwise. A giggle escapes my lips.
Glancing at the mostly empty room, he says, “Actually, I wasn’t too sure about things here or playing for the Knights.”
“You mean you might go back to the Warriors or?—?”
He goes quiet as if he doesn’t want to think about his career or his future, including the strange reality we’re navigating—two people trying to figure out what it means tobe accidentally married by a hypnotist during a New Year’s Eve variety show, when we’re not actually a couple at all.
Lane’s gaze drifts over me and then he pulls out his phone. “I got a message when you went into your house to get your stuff. My lawyer says the marriage is legally binding.” He angles his phone in my direction and scrolls through what looks like an email. “An annulment would require proving fraud or coercion, which might be difficult given how willing we appeared in the video. Divorce is more straightforward but could take weeks or months.”
“So we’re …”
Lane tips his head from side to side. “There are some other considerations. The video has gone viral. The entirety of the hockey world is atwitter about it. If we immediately file for divorce, it’s going to look bad for both of us.”
I think about what the girls said earlier, about how excited everyone is. “Bad for business, too.” I think of the dire financial circumstances at the bakery. “This kind of publicity could be really good for the Busy Bee. But what about your career?”
