I’d been looking forward to this all damn day. Ridiculous, maybe. I wanted to see her. Really see her. Talk to her, holdher, kiss her senseless, and exist beside her like it was the most natural thing in the world.
But wanting someone when you were a parent came with . . . complications. You couldn't just disappear into someone new. You couldn’t just give in to impulse or stay out all night or blur the lines between your life and theirs recklessly.
Still, I found myself thinking up excuses.
Maybe I could ask Leo if he wants a playdate with Ava . . .
No. That was pathetic. And transparent . . . Even if Leo would absolutely love it.
I shook my head at myself as I pulled into the rink’s parking lot.
Get a grip, Prince.
Inside, the familiar cool air of the roller rink hit my face, sweet, nostalgic, tinged with sweat and the faint scent of old popcorn. I heard laughter before I saw anything.
Then I stepped into the rink, and Belle and Mel had set up a mini obstacle course with cones, balance markers, even a tiny ramp, and in the center of it all was Eleanor.
She had her helmet on with her blonde braids sticking out adorably. She was all set for the derby, complete with bright purple knee pads and her whole face lit with determination.
She didn’t have Belle’s brute-force power or Mel’s agility, but she was trying, and she looked incredible doing it.
My heart did a stupid flip.
She bent her knees, concentrated, and rolled forward through the first set of cones.
Wobbly. But steady.
Belle whooped from the sidelines. “That’s it! Look at you go!”
Eleanor laughed. God, I loved that laugh. When she lifted her gaze to check her path, her eyes found mine.
And she smiled and waved.
Bright and startled, like she hadn’t expected me yet, but was glad I was there.
I smiled back, and that’s when it happened, her front wheel caught one of the cones.
“Oh shit!” Down she went. Not hard, just enough to thump onto her padded knees and hands.
Mel clapped once, unfazed. “That’s derby, sugar!”
Belle added, “If you’re not falling, you’re not learning!”
I hurried onto the rink, fighting a grin.
“You okay?” I asked, offering her a hand.
She laughed breathlessly at me. “I swear I’m getting better.”
“You are,” I said, pulling her gently to her feet. “And you look great doing it.”
Her cheeks flushed pink. It wasn’t from embarrassment, but from me. And God help me, I wanted her even more.
Eleanor shook out her arms, rolled her shoulders back, and repositioned her helmet like a woman preparing for battle.
“Okay,” she said, determination tightening her voice. “Again.”
Watching her try again might’ve been the hottest thing I’d ever seen. She pushed off, gaining momentum with hesitant little strokes, then steadier ones. Her hips swayed, her braids bounced, and every muscle in her thighs flexed in a way that should’ve been illegal.
