She lets her gaze move to Lacey. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’ll have lemonade and a chocolate milkshake.”
I make a face without meaning to.
“I’m not going to drink them together,” Lacey says.
Lucia’s brows rise and she chews her gum in an exaggerated fashion. “Two lemonades and two chocolate milkshakes coming up.”
Lacey looks from Lucia’s retreating form to me and back, then her mouth gapes. A laugh trickles out when she’s finally put it together. “What are the odds?”
“I don’t know.”
Neither of us says a word about our identical drink orders, or anything else, until Lucia brings them back. We both reach for the milkshake first.
“I guess we do have something in common,” she says after a long drink. She sits back. “Do you come here a lot?”
I’m sure it’s obvious I do since Lucia didn’t even have to ask my drink order, but I nod anyway. “Dad and I comeevery Sunday for dinner.” Sometimes more. He doesn’t like to cook and despite my sugary drink preferences, they have some healthy options that aren’t bad too.
Lacey files away that information with a nod, staring at me in a way that makes me want to squirm, like she sees more than I want her to.
“Congrats on the game, by the way. I don’t think I said that earlier.”
“Thanks.”
“Was your dad happy?” She holds the straw of her shake between her thumb and pointer finger.
“Yeah. I think so.”
“You can’t tell?” Her brows lift as she studies me.
“Happy with the team, still disappointed with me.”
She nods slowly. “He’s hard on you. Expects a lot. Like Claire’s mom with her.”
“He can be, but I doubt any parent would be happy with their kid failing school.”
“Fair,” she says. “What about your mom?”
“She doesn’t really keep tabs on that stuff.”
Lacey arches one brow.
“After they got divorced, she moved back to London.”
Still studying me carefully, Lacey nods. “Do you see her often?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I used to go there for a couple weeks every summer, but it’s been a few years since I’ve gone.”
“Really?” Lacey asks.
“She got remarried a few years ago. He has two young kids, so they’re pretty busy. And I have soccer.”
She’s still looking at me with that wide-eyed surprise, so I add, “They make a trip here every year, usually in January.”
“It must be hard not seeing her more,” Lacey says.
Is it weird that it actually isn’t that hard? Maybe I’ve just gotten used to it. I don’t miss her so much as I wonder what it might have been like if she and my dad had stayed together. Where would we have lived? Probably not Frost Lake. How would my life have been different? How would Dad be different? Would he be happier?
