Trying to play it cool, I shove my hands into my slack pockets and look at the display of vases in front of us. “You seemed to have a bright future. Just wondering what made you leave and take up refereeing.”
“Ah. You want to know how I ended up ruining your fun every other game?”
I grunt. Sure, she can think that. “Exactly. How’d you end up holding the flag?”
“You realize I run just as much as you do every game, right?”
“Believe me when I tell you that I respect the job. How did it become yours?”
Her cheeks go pink, and the overconfident smirk on her face fades away. “My little sister got pregnant,” she says. Her tone is soft, her words blunt. This is the most honest moment McCrae and I have ever had.
“And that was your responsibility?”
“Yes. There’s nothing more important than Wyatt,” she says, all the playful banter gone from her tone.
“But he has a mother, right?” Wyatt mentioned his mom. He also mentioned never having met his father.
Maggie’s lips are back on her cola. She drinks until air slurps and sputters through her straw. Then, shaking the ice in her empty cup, she tells me my time is up. Tilting her head, she smiles at me, but I don’t believe those upturned lips for a moment. I saw her joy when she smiled at Wyatt. This isn’t it. “Bye, Lucca.”
I nod. I’m lucky she gave me as much time as she did. “Yeah. Bye, Maggie.”
I continue to stroll through the art show, but Maggie McCrae is on my radar. I can’t help but see where she navigates. After a moment, Fran leads Stella over to her, and Iwatch from the corner of my eye as she makes introductions between the two. Callum greets her, too. So does Roman.
They all get a smile more sincere than the one she left me with.
Thirteen
Wyatt’s hairtickles my chin and cheek, his head resting against my collarbone as he sits on my lap. He’s almost too big for this. But I’ll let him sit here as long as he wants to. Sure, twenty-seven-year-old Wyatt, come sit on Aunt Maggie’s lap.
I pause my reading and, per usual, Wyatt lifts his hand, turning the page of our book. This dog-turned-cop is Wyatt’s favorite. Lieutenant Ruff is on his way to a party for the captain of the police department, and he’s bringing her dog bones.
Wyatt giggles. “She is a lady. She isn’t going to like that.”
“I think you’re right,” I tell him.
But before I can start into the next paragraph, Wyatt’s tilting his head to peer up at me. “Aunt Maggie, can I have a special guest at my birthday party?”
Wyatt’s birthday is in two weeks—we haven’t even talked about a party.
“Um… sure.” I guess we’ll be having a party, then. And I could probably pay some kid to dress up like Superman or Spiderman or whoever Wyatt’s thinking of. Messi might be a little more difficult…
“Yes!” he says, pumping his little fist in the air. And I pray it isn’t actually Messi he wants at his party. He’ll know a fake the second he sees one.
All at once, my pulse races. “We should check with your mom. And it probably depends on the special guest. Lieutenant Ruff might be away on assignment.” I run my fingers over his side, making him squirm.
His head lifts, bobbing me right in the chin.Ouch.It’s all fun and games until Aunt Maggie gets smacked in the chin. Wyatt doesn’t seem to notice; besides, I am the one who tickled him.
I rub a hand over my chin and cheek, grinding my teeth that were just knocked together.
“He’s not real.” Wyatt giggles. He beams up at me.
“Ohhhh. He’s not? Are you sure?”
Wyatt wiggles off my lap, sitting cross-legged on the couch next to me. He shakes his head no, his bright smile telling me how silly I am. “I want someone real to come,” he says, turning to face me.
Crap. Anyone but Messi. I could never make that happen.
“Who were you thinking?”
