“That one’s actually from when Elsie was younger, but I keep it with me everywhere I go.”
Setting her fork down on the table, she picks up her drink.
“Do you ever write them back?”
“Of course I do. Writing them back is the bare minimum.”
She hums. “What about friends? You didn’t want to try calling them?”
“They all went out last night after the game.” I take a bite of my eggs. “No way they would’ve answered.”
Her face falls, and her head tilts to the side.
“I’m not some lonely loser,” I continue. “I have my team and my friends. My parents and sister are good people; they just stay busy, and that’s okay because I’m busy too.”
“That’s not what I was thinking,” she says, sitting up a little straighter and sipping her latte.
“Then stop looking at me like I am. I’m good with it. I’ve never known any different, so it’s cool. And honestly, after all these years of the media’s attention, it’s nice to be alone sometimes.”
She presses her lips together and studies me.
“Will you tell me more about your nieces?”
I smile, and my body relaxes. “Elsie wants to play hockey like me, and Iris loves everything that sparkles.”
“That’s sweet. Have they ever done ballet?”
“I don’t think so. Elsie definitely wouldn’t go for it.” I chuckle.
“Why not?”
“She’s a real tough cookie.”
“And you don’t think dancers can be tough?” She blinks, cocking her head.
FUCK!
Talk about inserting my foot into my mouth. Why the fuck did I say that?
“No, that’s not what I meant,” I try, shaking my head and running a hand through my hair.
“It’s fine. I know the tutus and glitter don’t really give off a tough vibe, but I think you’d be surprised how tough we are. How much we put our bodies through to do what we love, all while not wearing helmets and pads.” She smirks.
“Touché,” I say. “I promise I wasn’t shitting on what you do. I think what you do is incredible. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
She moves her toast around, but doesn’t look up at me. “How about the younger one? Is she tough enough to be a ballerina?”
“Oh, definitely.”
“Well then, I think she and I would get along splendidly.” Her eyes find mine, and a soft smile breaksacross her lips.
“I think you would too.”
My heart expands at the thought of Claire meeting the two little girls who mean so much to me, but I shake the thought as quick as it comes. She was clear that falling in love with me isn’t a possibility, and I shouldn’t get ahead of myself.
“Are you finished?” Ruth asks, returning to clear off the table.
“I am,” Claire says, pushing her breakfast away.
