Chapter 2 #2
With Nat digging in, I scan the yard to judge the status of the game: Tex and my coach, Cal, are refereeing the remaining face-off between Charlie and Maeve.
My friend has a slight height advantage, but Gus’ sister is quick, and he doesn’t expect it when she drops low, jamming her shoulder into his gut.
The balloon underneath his button-down pops under the pressure, and Maeve scrambles for the plastic baby lost in the grass.
It’s awkward with her own balloon belly in the way, but Charlie doesn’t give up.
As Maeve searches, Charlie looks for an opportunity to pop her balloon.
The game abruptly ends just as he wraps his arms around her from behind.
She stands, thrusting a hand holding the baby figure in the air.
The pair are momentarily frozen in each other’s arms. Then, among the gathered crowd, Gus whoops loudly, swooping in to congratulate his little sister.
Bea chuckles softly, pulling my attention back to her.
“Why am I not surprised that one of the Kellys won?” she questions, flicking her brown eyes back to me. Mirth and soft fondness swim in them.
“Are you and Gus—” I stop myself from finishing the question as she cocks her head, a lazy smirk replacing the joyous smile, as though maybe she expects this. “Never mind. It’s not my business.”
“He’s the best friend of my best friend’s boyfriend. I think I’m stuck with him, so I might as well get used to it.” She shrugs. “He’s grown on me.”
It’s not a denial, but it isn’t a confirmation, and while she seems satisfied with that answer, it leaves me more confused.
“Daddy, are you going to eat the bear?” Nat’s hand tugs at my forearm, gently demanding my attention as she stares at my untouched dessert.
I give a scan of her plate, crumbs, and green sugar crystals are the only remnants left on the porcelain.
My daughter’s inquisitive face grounds me from my distracted considerations of Bea’s love life.
Despite the easy attraction I feel for her, any pursuit is out of the question.
My focus barely tolerates being split between dad life and playing hockey.
Against my better judgment—because it will only increase the inevitable sugar crash later—I pluck the teddy from its bed of whipped chocolate frosting and pass it to Nat. “Thank you!”
“Are you looking forward to nursery, Nat?” Bea asks.
Natalia scrunches her face up. Bea clicks her tongue and asks again, “Sorry, kindergarten?” Her eyes dart to mine for confirmation she’s said it right.
It’s not hard to forget that Bea is British—her crisp accent making it impossible—but when she uses colloquial terms from London, it feels far more obvious.
Understanding the question more clearly now, Nat’s face doesn’t fully lose the pinched look. Her tiny eyebrows stay low, and her mouth purses with the bitter thoughts I know she has. With the force only a child can exert, she shakes her head exaggeratedly.
“Oh,” Bea replies. Her lips thin as though she understands.
“Can I go see Gus-Gus?” Nat asks suddenly, seeking to escape the topic of the upcoming school year.
I search out her requested friend, finding him talking with Obie and a few others.
I slide the napkin off her lap and help her from the chair.
She takes off across the grass at my silent permission, running and calling for him.
He turns and bends, easily picking her up as everyone else smiles.
The Midnight boys are the only family Natalia has ever known, a fact that used to sadden me.
But my teammates and friends embrace her like their own: an extra little sister.
Another daughter. A sidekick. She belongs, and that helps ease any sadness I have at being almost twenty-five and alone.
“Not looking forward to school, then?” Bea’s question brings me back to her.
“No,” I answer from across the table without taking my eyes from Nat.
She and the boys fan out in the open space, forming a circle before they all sit, Natalia on the outside.
With careful consideration, she begins walking around them, tapping each person on the head, calling “puck” before moving on.
When she reaches Leo “Hutchy” Hutchinson, our new first-line left winger, Natalia shouts “goal” as she hits him on the head and races off in a blur of delicate peach around the circle to return to his spot.
The rest of the team jeers lovingly when Hutchy can’t tag her in time, and a new round starts.
A laugh floats from Bea, full and throaty, vibrating with amusement.
I’ve never heard a laugh like hers, but it melts into me, warm with an unexpected buoyancy.
I try not to float in it, shifting instead to follow the sound.
I see her pointing with pride to where the impromptu game of “puck, puck, goal” is happening.
“They must really love her to let her win. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being around you lot since moving here: you have competitive streaks a mile wide. ”
Bea’s laugh tapers off as one elegant hand reaches to the center of the table to collect a fuzzy bunny in a cotton-candy shade.
She holds the stuffed animal for no other reason than something to do, I think.
She wobbles it back and forth, marching it through the green leaves that make up the runner before putting it back where it started.
The silence stretches. I think about saying something—anything—to break it.
I want to. We’ve spent enough time together for me to open myself up to making a friend—a female friend—without it being a romantic thing.
Even if the way the setting sun turns her eyes the color of whiskey, and her pink lips plump into a slight pout as she focuses on the bunny, making them look entirely kissable.
But I stay silent, letting the moment move past us awkwardly before Bea rises from her seat.
She swipes the bunny, tucking it in her arms.
“Enjoy your dessert.” She gestures to the cake I realize I still haven’t thanked her for.
Then, she turns for the house, hips swaying in a captivating movement under the gauzy material of her dress.
She brushes Charlie’s arm as he makes his way past her, tilting her head to give him a smile.
My friend offers a small nod, then lifts his eyes to me.
I’m caught watching them and don’t even try to disguise it.
He excuses himself from his conversation with Cal and comes over to me.
“Yeah, you’re in trouble.” Charlie drops into Nat’s empty seat, watching me stare after Bea’s retreating form.
“Not helping.” I snap my eyes to him before picking up the cupcake, destroying half of it in a single bite.