“Sure. I think I can make the arrangements.” I can’t believe I’m giving in to seeing him alone and discussing the past… and whatever else may come. But if he owns a part of Boulder now, and with no sign of Aiden’s hockey obsession letting up, we should get to where we can be friends and put the past behind us. At least, that’s what my mind tries to convince me of.
The rest of the session flies faster than I expect. When it finally wraps up, parents start gathering their kids, voices rising, skates clomping against the floor, gear everywhere. Aiden is slower to pack up, lingering like he’s not quite ready to leave. He’s dancing foot to foot until finally he makes a beeline for the bathroom, darting off before I can stop him. Probably so excitedto be on the ice, he held off taking a bathroom break for he past hour.
I turn to gather his gear—and collide with Eli, right into his chest.
He steadies me with his hands on my arms, sparking on my skin there. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” The air charges around us—he glances around at the thinning crowd. “Are we still on for coffee?”
“My mom can watch Aiden.” I nod and eye the bathroom door. I quickly work up the nerve. “Can I ask you something before Aiden returns?”
“Of course.”
“His birthday is on Christmas day which, as you can probably realize, is a challenging day for one. He’d like a party this year, and now that you own the rink, I was wondering… Could I maybe rent it for an hour? I’ll keep the party small, just a few of his friends?—”
“Yes,” his answer comes immediately.
“Really? I’ll just hand out cupcakes. Keep it simple.”
“Of course, yes,” he repeats, as if it were obvious.
I chew my cheek. “Well, how much would you charge?”
“I don’t want a dime. It’ll be my gift to him.”
I cock my head to complain.
“Don’t even. I want to do this,” he warns. “Now, when is it?”
“I haven’t picked a date yet. Maybe the week before Christmas?”
“I’ll check my schedule and let you know. I’d like to be there.”
My heart stumbles. “You would?”
“If that’s okay with you.”
Before I can answer, Aiden bursts back out, passing the vending machine and begging for a protein bar. Eli steps back, respectful, but his eyes burn into mine long enough to make me blush.
The problem is, letting Eli into my son’s life—and mine—I like opening a door I’m not sure I’ll ever want to close again.
CHAPTER 9
THE MISSING PIECES
STELLA
From the craft shop,we walk across the street to the Granite Coffee Beanery. A chilly breeze whips by us, and he puts his hand on the small of my back protectively as we go. This was once the man I loved, and then spent years telling myself pushing him away had been the right thing to do.
We order coffee, and the barista recognizes him immediately, asking for an autograph. That catches the attention of other customers, and soon a small crowd forms around him. Who knew the place would be so busy on a weeknight?
Eli handles it all with ease, smiling, polite, signing Beanery napkins, and posing for selfies. I watch him, remembering how in college he used to duck attention and pretend he didn’t enjoy it.
I think he enjoys it now. Or maybe he just knows how to survive it, how to play the game.
“You handled that well,” I say as he returns to me.
“Even if I hate it.” Eli’s eyes warm.
“You don’t hate it.”
