He flashes me a grin. “Say my name again, Wildcat. I love hearing it.”
I roll my eyes. “No. And don’t call me Wildcat. My name is Maddy.”
“Is Maddy short for something?” He leans back again, getting comfortable, and I like the way he’s settling in. I like it way too much.
“Yes, but that’s information I dispense on a need-to-know basis, and you definitely don’t need to know.”
“Don’t I?” he asks with a smirk.
“One hundred percent you don’t.”
“What if I want to know?” he asks playfully. Then his face turns serious. Intense. “What if I want to know everything about you?”
I swallow hard, gripping the arms of my chair to keep him from seeing just how much I want him to know all the things about me. How I want to know everything about him in a way that has nothing to do with my job and everything to do with him, and that’s a whole entire mess.
“How old are your kids?” I ask, even though I know the answer. Anything to change the damn subject.
His smile lights up his face when I ask about his kids, and how fucking cute is that? “Ethan is ten and about to start fifthgrade. About two years ago, he decided hockey is the great love of his life, so our lives pretty much revolve around that. Or, as much as they can given all of this.”
He waves his hand in the general direction of the training room and, remembering what it was like when my brother, Oliver, and I were kids obsessed with hockey, I feel a little tug of sympathy for how hard it must be for Cam to do all of that alongside his football career. “And your daughter?”
“Riley is thirteen. She officially starts her freshman year next week, but she’s at school this week for try outs and then rehearsals for the fall play. She texted me this morning that she got the lead inMamma Mia.”
The pride on his face almost knocks me over, and god, if there is something more attractive than a dad who loves his kids please point me to it because I don’t think it actually exists.
Tread carefully, Maddy, I remind myself.
“Theater kid?”
Cam chuckles. “Oh yeah, you bet. She’s been a theater kid since she was two years old and memorized the entire opening number ofHamilton. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen a tiny two-year-old with curly pigtails scream-sing ‘I’m the damn fool who shot him.’ She’s been acting her whole life, but she got serious about it in middle school and wants to be a star.”
“Is she at Fieldston?”
“She sure is. It wasn’t my easiest choice, but she wanted it so badly. I had to support her even though the parent in me wishes she wanted to be, like, a lawyer or something. Anything easier than actor.”
I laugh, thinking back about twelve years when Gabe and Molly were singing the same tune. “If it makes you feel any better, my best friend Sophie went to Fieldston with big dreams of being a rom-com actress for the ages.”
“What’s she doing now?”
“She’s a brilliant computer genius and is the executivedirector of the women in STEM foundation her dad founded years ago.”
Cam furrows his forehead in thought. “Are you talking about Sophie Sullivan and the InspireSTEM foundation?”
“Yeah, you know it?”
He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I know it. I know it well. I do some volunteering with their elementary school initiatives. My wife was an elementary school STEM teacher before she died, and working with Inspire has been my little way of honoring her over the years. And Sophie is best friends with the quarterback of this team, who is also a good friend of mine.”
I’m silent for a beat, trying to swallow down the emotion I feel at the idea that with everything else he has going on, this man does volunteer work to honor his late wife. I really need to stay objective where he’s concerned, but I’m worried I’ve sailed past objective and straight intoholy shit I really like him. “I’ve known her most of my life. Tyler is a good friend of mine too. Their moms and my mom have been best friends forever, so we grew up together.”
“If that’s true, how come I’ve never seen you before last night? This is Tyler’s fourth season, and Sophie comes to games all the time.”
I shrug. “I’m really more of a hockey fan.”
He scowls at me. “We’ll work on that. Wait,” he says suddenly, eyebrows drawn together like he’s trying to figure something out. “When I met with Olivia earlier, she mentioned that her brother’s wife and your mom had been friends for thirty years. Is Olivia Gabriel Sullivan’s sister? Sophie’s aunt?”
I laugh at the confusion in his voice. “Yeah, you didn’t know?”
He looks baffled. “I only know her as Brian’s wife.”
