1
FORD
Don’t look at her fingers. I’ll regret it if I do.
First, I will admire the way Brielle swipes a few strands of her silky brown hair away from her cheek, and then I will follow the line of her jaw until I stare at her soft lips that always curve in a soft smile when she talks about Connor, our son. And finally, the pièce de résistance, her hands. And it’s why I’m going to regret locking my gaze on her fingers, because there is something missing from her ring finger, and it’s all my fault.
Man, I know I’m torturing myself.
I look.
I get lost for a second—okay, maybe two.
“Mr. Spears, wouldn’t you agree?” A lady’s voice breaks my turmoil.
Blinking my eyes a few times, I look forward and see my son’s soon-to-be-retired teacher smiling at me from the other side of the table for our end-of-year parent-teacher meeting. I only glance for a second, as my sight whips back in Brielle’s direction, where she’s sitting beside me. Brielle Dawson or Elle to me, mother of my child, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, and the only one I’ve seen a future with.
But the chance was ripped away from us ten years ago because of a promise.
“Ford, are you okay?” Brielle double-checks with me; her blue eyes have a curious glint in them.
I clear my throat, remembering what we were talking about. “Of course, we’ll make sure he keeps reading over the summer.”
“I know Connor is excited for hockey camp, and I hope he enjoys it, but it’s important he arrives to the fifth grade ready. It’s his last year before middle school,” Mrs. Clark reminds me.
Brielle gently touches my arm. “We will be sure to get the books on the summer reading list,” she assures the teacher.
Mrs. Clark brings her hands together. “Wonderful. I just wanted to say that, despite his little outburst recently, he is a sweet boy, and I will miss him.”
My jaw tightens about the reminder of a few weeks ago when he had an argument with a classmate. Glancing to Brielle, I see her strained look.
“You two should be proud of him, and if I may say so, be proud of yourselves too,” Mrs. Clark adds.
“How so?” I wonder.
“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had these meetings go south when the parents are separated, and their child has issues in class because of their parents’ behavior toward each other.”
Brielle taps her nails on the table and throws on a tight smile. “That’s not us.” She takes a deep breath. “We only want the best for Connor.”
Fuck me, how is it years later, and I still hear the sadness drenched in that sentence?
“Thank you for the compliment.” I awkwardly attempt to stay calm. “If Connor hasn’t said anything at school, then I guess we’re doing a good job.”
The teacher’s smile falters slightly. “If I may be frank…”
“Please.” My tone is clipped.
“He’s all smiles when he talks about you both. Not many kids can say they have a famous hockey star as their dad. But sometimes he mentions that you both live in two different worlds and only ever come together at set times, and he knows it’s because of him.”
Brielle’s breath cuts short, and she looks off into the distance out the window.
I swipe a hand through my hair that’s still short from hockey season. “Kids are intuitive, aren’t they?” I say in a flat tone, not so amused.
Mrs. Clark laughs awkwardly. “They are. Well…” She glances between us. “That’s everything. I wish you both a great summer.”
Brielle offers a polite smile. “You too, and thank you for ensuring Connor had a great school year.”
We all stand and say our goodbyes.
