“Yay! Mommy gets the gold!” Mia shouts.
“You get the gold for sure,” Avery says, gentleness softening her eyes.
“Okay, who is going to make their way across this board?” I ask.
“Me!” Mia shouts. “Your kittens are going down!”
“Oh yeah?” Avery says, poking Mia in the side until she doubles over with giggles. “I think your kitten is going to explode in lava!”
“Both your kittens are going to need mittens!” I say.
The twin looks of confusion from my sister and daughter send me into hysterical laughter.
“Way to intimidate us,” Avery says, laughing along with me.
“I’m a beast when it comes to kitten warfare,” I say between laughs.
We spend the rest of the evening playing the board game, heating up frozen pizzas, watching a Pixar movie and stuffing ourselves with cookies warm off the baking sheet. Mia resists bedtime, so Avery and I read her chapter book to her together.
When she’s finally falling asleep, we sneak out into the living room.
We’re curled up on opposite ends of the couch, our legs tucked under us.
“This was so fun,” Avery says with a yawn.
“It was. I’m glad you came over.” I look around at the mess of plates and game pieces. “So … you’ll never believe this …”
“What?”
“You know when Coach G came over two nights ago?”
“Yeah?”
I pause. I want Avery to know. But that night in Munichstill feels like something so precious and private. Sharing anything about it feels like a betrayal of sorts.
“Hallie?”
“Huh?”
“Were you going to tell me about Coach G?”
“Yeah. Yes. I am. Wait here.”
“What? You’re just going to drop the hot coach bomb and walk out of the room? No fair!”
“Wait there. It will be worth it!” I say in a half-whisper over my shoulder.
I stride into my room, pulling the photo off my dresser where I’ve had it sitting since the night Greyson was here. My thumb rubs over the edge ever so slightly. I never told Avery about Ace or that night in Munich. I hold the picture in my hand, searching again for the similarities and asking myself how I missed it—missed him.
I walk out and hand her the photo. Then I tuck into the couch again.
“That’s you in Europe.”
“Yeah.”
“Who’s the hottie?”
I chuckle. “Ace. He was a young man about to deploy to Afghanistan. We met that night.”
