Alexa: Get down often refers to?—
Mabel: Alexa, stop. You didn’t have to, Corbin. But also, you should know I look really good in lilac :)
Corbin: I know, Mabel. I absolutely know.
I don’t turn around and look back at my teammates for a good, long time. Once I’m showered and changed, I slide into dad mode. Time to shut the door on this inappropriate flirtation and focus on Charlotte.
I head to the kids’ lounge to pick her up. It’s after nine, but I should be able to get her home by ten. A bunch of the guys got together and arranged for a sitter during home games, following the example of Rowan Bishop, who set up a family suite over at the Sea Dogs, our cross-town rivals. It’s a huge help to the dads on the team.
When I push open the door, Charlotte pops up, grabbing her backpack and trotting over to me. “Good job tonight, Dad. That broke your three-game point-less streak.”
“Thanks,” I say, though I frown at the reminder.
“It’s a good thing,” she assures me, then pats her backpack. “I finished my homework super early, so I did some analysis on your stats. Want to go over them?”
I stretch my neck from side to side. Tonight, I need to spend a little time with an ice pack rather than a spreadsheet. “How about tomorrow?”
“Fair enough.” She shifts gears as we head into the hall. “Theo stopped by during the second period. He offered to help me with math, so I gave him an extra problem to do, even though it wasn’t on my homework.”
“That was…tricky of you,” I say, impressed with her brain.
“Thanks. It amused me.”
“Glad something does.”
“A dog would amuse me more,” she says, lifting her eyes hopefully.
I wish I could say yes, but there’s no way. “Charlotte, we hardly have time.”
“I could come up with a schedule for the dog and for us. We could make it work. I know I could figure it out.”
“If anyone could, it’s you. But you’re only at my house half the time. Plus, my schedule is complicated. I’m gone a lot.”
She sighs. “I know. I wish there were an algebra equation for adopting a dog.”
“Me too, kid. Me too.” I squeeze her shoulder, then grab her backpack from her and sling it over my shoulder. Least I can do is carry it. “Did you let Theo think he was helpful? With the math?”
She shakes her head. “No. It’s not my job to make a man feel useful.”
I toss my head back and laugh, then I pick her up and give her a big hug. “That’s my girl.”
She smiles impishly, clearly pleased with herself. “I told him when he solved it that he did a good job, but that I’d already finished my math.”
“Keeping him on his toes,” I say. I set her down as we pass the media room, where the last of the press are filtering out.
“And then he was so excited when he saw his sister on TV. He kept saying, ‘Brilliant marketing,’ and ‘Next time, put her in an Afternoon Delight jersey.’”
A kernel of guilt crawls up me. “He said that?”
“I heard my name.” Theo catches up to us and claps me on the back. He must have been in the media room. “Brilliant marketing tonight, man. Like I was telling my goddaughter,” he says, ruffling Charlotte’s hair.
“So I heard.”
“Mabel in your jersey was perfect. The cameras loved it. The bakery is going to blow up when you open. You two are marketing geniuses.”
“My dad is very smart,” Charlotte says, patting my elbow with pride.
I hardly feel smart right now, with the post-game high curdling in my stomach. My brain repeatsmarketing geniusandbusiness partnership. If only I had been that calculating when I bought Mabel the jersey.
