I try to get back to where we were, of course, and find any little way I can make a kind gesture. I ask Renae to send Stella flowers—my first attempt to soften things—with a cute poem I wrote.
It says:
You drew the line I won’t cross.
I’m not invited to the party, but you’re the boss.
But I’m still here, giving you space and time,
waiting for the day you’ll finally be mine.
Renae snorts on our video call, spraying soda everywhere. With an agonizing sigh, I drop my forehead into my hand and wait a minute for her to clean up.
“What? Is it too cheesy?” My brows stitch. “It took me an hour to come up with that.”
I'm staying at my house in Denver tonight, given our late game where we lost to Calgary. My teammates don’t explicitly come out and say it, but I botched several opportunities. They’re downstairs now, sulking and icing up, because we all took a beating in the game.
Once in bed, I know I’ll stare at the ceiling because Stella isn’t by my side. How funny, the simple things we get used to with a special person in our life.
I’ve slept at the rink the past few nights on the most uncomfortable couch in the office that the 80s would like back. At least there, I’m in Boulder where I feel closest to Aiden and Stella. Where, if she should need me, I can come running at a moment’s notice.
Renae returns onscreen to our call. She puts on her headset, clearing her throat. “Is your second chance getting complicated, sir?”
I huff a breath. “You warned me.”
“I did. It doesn’t mean I enjoy being right.”
I tell her everything. Jerrod’s threats. Stella’s fear. Our fight. The party I’m not allowed anywhere near. The way Stella’s drawn a hard line, and the way I’m choosing not to cross it—even though it hurts like hell.
“Jerrod has the upper hand. He’ll take her back to court to fight for a new custody agreement, unless she dumps me. Shewon’t risk losing time with Aiden. But she can’t bring herself to walk away from me again. So we’re stuck right now.”
Renae listens without interrupting. When I finally stop talking, she studies me for a long moment.
“Don’t give up yet—give her that space and time she needs. See where you stand in a week or two,” she advises.
“What about Aiden’s birthday party at the rink? Instead, Stella’s holding a Lego building party in the craft store for him and a handful of his friends.”
“Oh. I’ll cancel the rink party then?”
“I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“Well…” she draws the word out. “As much as I know you care for Aiden, there are twenty other children in the hockey class who might enjoy a party.”
I suck in a breath. Yes. This could work. “Renae. You. Are. Brilliant.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“A Christmas party is exactly what I need.” I can already picture it. For a guy who lost his holiday spirit the moment Stella slammed the bedroom door, energy sparks inside of me for the first time all week. “And, since I won’t be under Stella’s strict budget…”
Renae groans. “Oh, no.”
“I want this rink to bleed JOY, in capital letters,” I dramatically emphasize the theme. “Everything kids love. Cotton candy. Balloons. Bounce houses. Clowns.”
“Clowns can be terrifying to some,” she retorts.
“Okay. No clowns. But I can get Michelle there with the Aspens mascot. And some of my teammates might dress in superhero costumes or as cartoon characters. Oh, and in the parking lot, let’s do pony rides and a petting zoo, if the weather permits.”
“This is becoming a circus.”
