I nod because, whether I like it or not, that’s all I can do. Following Sadie into the family lounge, pressing her up against the bar, and kissing her isn’t an option.
Three periods later, the game is over, and San Diego is going home with the win. Overall, though, it wasn’t a bad game. At least not from my perspective. Noah let in only one goal. Our offense didn’t score any. That’s on them, not the goalie. I kept wanting to head down to the lounge between periods and talk to Sadie, but I forced myself not to. It wouldn’t do any good.
In the elevator on my way down to the players’ level, I get a text from Lauren. She’s complaining that Charlie keeps asking for a dog, and she accuses me of letting her think she might get one. I take a deep breath and hold it as long as I can without suffocating. Is this woman for real? I call her as the elevator opens and I step out. She answers on the first ring.
“What?”
“I haven’t been encouraging the dog obsession. But you know how focused she gets,” I say as calmly as I can. “I promise I’ll explain to her why it’s not a good idea.”
“And stop taking her to the dog park.”
“It’s a regular park next to a dog park, and it’s the closest one to the boat,” I tell her. “We can walk there, and she also likes watching the skateboarders on the ramps there.”
“That only encourages her to want a skateboard. You have to discourage that too, Griffin,” Lauren lectures. “She’s only six.”
“Lauren, you’re being a bit…” I search for a word that won’t send her into a fit. “Much.”
“You want co-parenting? This is co-parenting,” Lauren snaps.
“No, this is you micromanaging your ex-husband,” I shoot back. “You didn’t even do that when we were married. What the hell is going on with you?”
“I’m annoyed, Griffin,” Lauren complains. She pauses, and I think we might actually be getting somewhere. “I’m divorced, but yet you’re still in my life almost daily. How can I move on when you’re always around? It’s frustrating.”
Okay, even though I have zero romantic feelings for her, that stings. We promised each other when we decided to divorce that we’d make sure we both stayed in Charlie’s life. I accepted that meant that Lauren stayed in my life as well to a small extent, but, clearly, she hasn’t accepted it—at least not anymore, and that makes me feel shitty.
“Okay, well, I can’t do anything about that,” I say flatly. “Charlie is both of ours and will always be.”
“But she’ll be happier when I’m happier, and that means changing this agreement,” Lauren replies, and my whole body is buzzing with anger.
“She’s perfectly happy now. If you’re not, figure it out,” I snap.
“I am. See you in court!”
The line goes dead. Frustration twists my stomach and turns my blood hot. Why is she doing this? I could list a ton of Lauren’s personality faults, as she could mine, but being irrational or mean for the sake it was never one of them.
I’m storming down the hallway now, still staring at my phone screen in a blind, confused rage, so I don’t see someone opening the door and stepping into my path. “Whoa!” is all I hear seconds before I feel someone collide with me. She grabs my jacket lapels as she teeters backward, and I instinctively grab her elbows, my phone clattering to the ground between us.
I realize it’s Sadie, and suddenly instead of letting her go when she regains her balance, I keep my hand on her elbow. When she takes a step back, it slips to her wrist and then, for a brief moment our fingers tangle, but then all contact is gone.
“Sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” I tell her.
“Yeah. It’s fine,” Sadie replies curtly. “Later.”
“How are you?” I ask as she’s about to turn to leave. She doesn’t move except to lift her head to bring her gaze to mine.
“You look fucking spectacular in a suit,” she tells me, and I’m shocked by her candor. “It’s like you’re Giorgio Armani’s muse or something. Does he have you stand in his studio and design that thing for you specifically or what?”
“No.” I smile. “But I’m flattered.”
“You’re hard not to notice…whether I like it or not.”
“You’re pretty hard to miss yourself,” I tell her. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you during warm-up when I should’ve been watching the players.”
Her eyelashes flutter. “I’m not even wearing Armani. My outfit is Target.”
She’s trying to make a joke, but I’m not in a laughing mood.
“It’s more than what you’re wearing. I noticed the way you let your nephew play with your hair without worrying if he messed it up. The smile on your face as you said something to Jude through the glass.” I pause and watch the words really sink in. And just in case that isn’t enough to make her blush, I tell her more. “You remind me of a wildflower. Beautiful, delicate, but strong and wild.”
