He scrunches his nose, amused. “Because I’ve seen her when she reads the texts. Her eyes light up and her face goes all soft, like she’s watching a video of puppies. No one’s face looks like that when they’re talking about physiotherapy.”
God. What I wouldn’t give to see that. Does she really look like that when she reads my messages? I know I’ve caught myself grinning like an idiot at her texts, smiling at my phone until my jaw hurts.
“Look,” Sam says, resting his hands on his knees, leaning forward slightly. I feel like he’s the coach and I’m the rookie getting a pep talk. “I’m not looking for confirmation from you. My mom is happy. That’s all I care about. She deserves to be happy.”
“Yes, she does.”
“I’m glad you agree. That’s all I wanted you to know. And that her birthday is May twentieth. You can do what you want with that information. Just…remember, she’s allergic to flowers.”
I nod, keeping my face neutral. “I remember.”
“Good.”
Rick reappears in the doorway. “Sorry about the wait,” he says. “Grab your stuff. I’m taking you over to the practice facility.”
Sam slings his backpack over one shoulder and heads for the door.
“Have a good day,” I call after him.
“You too.” He pauses at the door, grinning. “And thanks for creating this opportunity for me. It’s really cool.”
“I didn’t create it for you,” I stammer, flustered.
“Sure. Just like you’re not dating my mom.” He winks and disappears, the locker room door clicking shut behind him.
I’m left standing there, alone with the echo of his grin, wondering not only how I’m going to tell Elliot her son knows about us, but also what the hell I’m going to get her for her birthday.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
ELLIOT
You are never tooold for firsts. At thirty-two, this is my very first time on an airplane. I would like it noted for the record that while I enjoyed the complimentary apple juice and the salty little pretzels, there is far more shaking involved than I was led to believe. As a result, I have decided I am not a fan.
Two out of ten stars. Would not recommend.
“It’s just a bit of turbulence,” Cal says calmly from the seat beside me.
And the fires of hell are just a warm bath with brimstone scented bubbles.
“Mm-hmm,” I reply, gripping the armrest like it’s the only thing keeping us airborne.
“I really appreciate you travelling with the team,” she adds, clearly attempting to distract me.
“Mm-hmm.”
Cal would not have asked me to fill in on the road unless she was desperate. When Marty tested positive for Covid the same morning Luke’s wife went into early labour, she ran outof options fast. I had agreed before she even finished asking, partly because I owed her after the playoff tickets she got me without a single question, and partly because saying yes felt like the right thing to do.
I called Jane right away. She was more than happy to have Sam stay with her. The boys were thrilled about a multi-day sleepover.
And if I’m being honest, I was a little excited about getting away with Arthur. We have squeezed in time where we can over the last few weeks, but between work and Sam, it is not always easy. A few nights in a hotel. Palm trees. Warm air. It sounded perfect.
Right now, at thirty-eight thousand feet in the air, it feels less like a working vacation and more like a very polite funeral procession.
The plane shudders, and my stomach drops. My mind immediately leaps to Sam. I updated my simple will after Shawn left, mostly out of stubborn practicality. If anything happened to me, Sam would be looked after by my oldest friend, Amy.
Except that plan was made years ago, and Amy and her family now live in Montreal. My parents are out of the question—they moved to Costa Rica when I was still a teenager, and I haven’t spoken to them in years.
Maybe it’s time to rethink things. Maybe I need a better plan. A closer plan. A plan that doesn’t rely on cross-province logistics.
