“Hey.” I hold my hands up in defense as a sandwich is shoved at me. “I never said I was.”
“I can feel it wafting off of you.”
I shake my head at her. “No such thing. I’m happy you’re on board with the kids playing hockey.”
“Do you like turkey?” Lydia asks me, interrupting our conversation.
“Love turkey.”
She beams at me, a spitting image of her mom as the two of them unwrap peanut butter and jelly sandwiches from butcher paper.
I stretch my legs out and lean against the desk as I take a hearty bite of the sandwich.
“Do you think a unicorn could play hockey?” Lydia asks, peanut butter smudged on her face.
“A unicorn playing hockey?” I ask. “Wouldn’t they slide all over the ice on their feet?”
“They have hooves, Daddy.” Again, Troy with the duh tone in his voice.
“Yeah, but can they wear hockey skates with hooves?”
“Maybe they’re special pairs,” Sutton points out. “Instead of a pair, they have four.”
“And they’d be pink and sparkly,” Lydia chirps.
“What if it’s a boy unicorn and he wants black ones?” Troy asks.
“Could they be black sparkles?”
Troy nods at this. “Maybe we can have sparkly skates too when we play.”
Sutton and I exchange a look. It’s hard not to when your kids are talking about the most random things.
This. This is what I want.
A family with Sutton. The four of us. Picnic lunches whenever we want. Spending time together. Taking our kids to Saturday morning hockey practices. Talking about silly things.
Like unicorns playing hockey.
Chapter Twenty-Four
SUTTON
“You know, as much as I love our kids, I’m happy we’re having an adults only night.” I sigh, stretching my legs out on Derek’s couch.
After a long day at the hospital and another two shifts coming this week, I needed tonight. When Derek invited me over, it was an easy yes.
It’s the perfect spring day, with the doors to the backyard blowing in a warm breeze. The soft hairs blow around my face as pots and pans clang in the kitchen. Derek hums as my eyes close to revel in the quiet.
“You want anything to drink?” Derek calls out.
“I’m good with water.”
“You know, I can help with dinner,” I tell him when a glass of water is pressed into my hand.
“Your only job is to relax tonight, Sutton.”
“Hey.” I waggle a finger to beckon him, wanting a kiss.
