“Three more years. Maybe longer if they like what they see.” He’s smiling, relief clear in his expression. “They were waiting to see how I’d finish out the season. Tonight’s game helped.”
“You were incredible tonight.”
“I had good motivation.” He reaches across the table, brushes glitter off my hand. “So, it looks like I’m staying in Minneapolis. For the foreseeable future.”
“Good,” I say. Okay, that isn’t at all what I mean, but it’s hard to vocalize the feeling of confetti exploding in your soul.
“What about you?” he asks. “How’s the event planning business?”
“It’s good. Really good.” I take another bite of cookie. “The wedding magazine spread brought in three new clients. One of them is a corporate event for a tech company—huge budget, lots of potential for referrals. And…I’m out of debt.”
“That’s amazing, Chloe.”
“It is. But—” I pause. Set down my fork. Look at him. “I have bigger news.” I can’t keep the smile off my face. “I got a publishing offer. For a five-book illustration series. Children’s books. Dragons and adventure and—it’s everything I’ve wanted.”
Brody’s face does something complicated. A smile that’s equal parts pleased and…something.
“What?” I ask.
“Just about time.” He’s still smiling. “I hope you’re taking it.”
“I am. I mean, I’m going to. Now that…” I stop. Laugh. “Well, let’s just say I happen to have come into some money recently.”
He laughs too. Winks.
And right then, I realize—it’s past us. We can laugh about it. Tell our…kids? Yes, maybe, someday.
“Also,” Brody says, his expression shifting to something more serious, “my dad went to treatment. He’s thirty days sober.”
“Brody.” I squeeze his hand. “I’m so glad. How is he?”
“Better. Really better. Clear-headed. Present. He’s going to AA meetings, has a sponsor, the whole thing.” He pauses. “I think we’re going to fix up the house, spend some time together in the offseason.”
“Brody, that’s great.”
“I think it’ll be good for us. He needs support. And honestly, I think I need it too. We have a lot to work through.” He grins. “Plus, I’m thinking about doing some upgrades to the house. New kitchen, renovated bathroom, maybe adding a deck. Give me something to connect with him about.”
My heart flutters. “Of course you are.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just—you’re a good son.”
We finish our cookies slowly, savoring every bite. Talk about the upcoming games and my ideas for another book. Whether the NHL will start selling glitter jerseys.
Brody says doubtful, but I think I’m really on to something.
The door opens, and someone walks in—a man in his thirties, dark hair neatly combed, wearing a blazer.
Brody’s face lights up. He stands immediately.
“Hey, Milo!”
I turn. The man—Milo—sees Brody and grins. Crosses the coffee shop with his hand extended.
“Brody Kane! Didn’t expect to see you here. Good game tonight.”
Brody nods, smiles. “You’re a little ways from Iowa.”
