Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Maggie
“Are you ready to go?” I call down the hall to Liam.
He comes bounding out of his room, backpack bouncing, an overstuffed grocery tote practically dragging along behind him. “Ready!” he yells.
I smile at his excitement, hoping my apprehension doesn’t show through.
His dad called yesterday and asked to have Liam for the whole weekend.
I said yes, of course, and Liam was thrilled when I told him.
But Kyle’s track record is so shitty, I can’t help wondering if he’ll last more than twelve hours.
The plan is for me to drop him off at Kyle’s, then I’m heading over to Jack’s place, and from there we’re going to dinner and finishing the evening at the Chihuly Garden and Glass museum.
I went once years ago, and I’ve always wanted to go back.
It’s one of those things that I’ve wanted for so long that I’d almost forgotten about it.
After I got home from work the other day, I sat down and made a list of things I want to do—something I’d said I’d do ages ago but never got around to—so I’d have some ideas for when I talked to Jack that night to figure out our plan for today.
Of course, that got changed slightly with Kyle popping up.
That tends to happen with Kyle. Things will go smoothly for a while, and then he’ll crawl out of the woodwork and throw a wrench in things.
Changing plans to take Liam to his dad’s isn’t such a big deal. But knowing how Kyle operates, I’m worried about the rest of the weekend. Will I even be able to finish the whole date tonight, or will Kyle decide Liam’s too much by the time they’re done with dinner?
Will he feed Liam dinner?
God, I hope so. And by dinner, I mean more than a meat stick and a handful of Cheez-Its. There’s been more than one occasion where that was what Kyle fed our son.
I shove aside my apprehension and wrap Liam in a big hug. “I can’t believe how big you’re getting. What happened to my little baby?”
After hugging me back, he pushes away and rolls his eyes. “Mo-oom,” he moans. “You always say that.”
Hands on my hips, I shake my head. “I can’t help it. You were just a little baby yesterday!”
Giggling, he shakes his head. “No, I wasn’t! I was a little baby like nine years ago!”
“Ten, really, since you’re ten and a half now. Still, it doesn’t feel like it was that long ago. It feels like last week!” Grabbing my keys and my purse, I look around. “Do you have everything? Anything you forgot and need to grab before we leave?”
“Nope!” he chirps. “Got it all right here.” He hefts the grocery bag and pats his backpack.
I arch a doubtful eyebrow. “You have clean underwear? And a couple changes of clothes? Should you bring your swimsuit?” Kyle had clothes that fit Liam when we first separated, but that was years ago now, and Liam’s grown a ton in that time.
I’m not convinced his dad would’ve bothered to buy new things.
“Yes, Mom.” He gives me that full-body annoyed reaction only tweens can pull off. “I told you I have everything.”
“Okay.” I pull him in for another hug and give him a kiss on the top of his head. “I just want to make sure. I’m the mom. It’s my job.”
“I know,” he grumbles, but there’s a good-natured edge to it.
I hold out my hand for the tote bag, but he shakes his head and puts it on his shoulder—where it promptly slips down to his elbow.
Grinning, I open the door for him. He wants to be independent, and that’s a good thing, I remind myself.
When we first separated, he wanted me to do everything for him, even things he could easily do himself—tie his shoes, brush his teeth and hair, carry all his stuff—and I’m glad we’re well past that stage of skill regression from emotional turmoil.
Even with his dad being a flaky asshole, Liam’s pretty chipper these days, though the inevitable disappointments when his dad bails or only keeps him half the promised amount of time lead to much more moody behavior afterward.
That’s the other thing I’m dreading from this visit. I have no idea how long it’ll last, and I have no idea what state he’ll be in or for how long afterward.
God, I hope Kyle can be a normal person for forty-eight hours and do what he promised.
I load us both into the car and drive Liam to his dad’s, texting Kyle to let him know we’re here, then help Liam get his things out and watch him run to his waiting father, all smiles, his dad catching him in a big hug like he’s genuinely glad to see him.
And maybe he is. For now. It’s just … how long will that last this time?
Kyle raises a hand to me in a wave before taking Liam’s tote bag, and I grit my teeth, unsure if I should be annoyed that Kyle’s taking the bag over Liam’s protests (if he made any) or that Liam lets his dad help him but not me.
“You should be grateful it’s not all on you,” I mutter to myself as I climb back in my car. “He should help his son. He should do a lot of things for his son that he doesn’t. You shouldn’t be pissed about him doing anything when it’s all less than the bare minimum.”
Taking a deep breath, I try to clear my irritation and focus on the positive—Liam gets to see his dad, which makes Liam happy, and I get to go spend the evening with Jack, which makes me happy.
When I let Jack know that Liam was spending the weekend with his dad, he responded with, “That means I get you for the whole weekend too. Awesome.”
I wonder what else he might have planned?
Jack answers the door with a big smile on his face, looking me up and down in the new wrap dress I ordered last week that came the other day.
The heat in his eyes makes me think this was a good choice.
The fabric is soft and silky, clingy in just the right ways, and skimming over the parts that I prefer not to have accentuated.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he says in a low voice, stepping forward and kissing me on the cheek.
It doesn’t make me blush this time like it did at lunch the other day.
He caught me off guard that time. We’ve never greeted each other with any outward shows of affection before.
Even when we’d usually end our evenings together with a hug, he never offered one as a greeting.
So I wasn’t expecting anything like that, even after our kiss last Friday.
It was one kiss, after all. That doesn’t mean we’ll do it a thousand times (even if I really like the sound of kissing him that often).
This time, I’m ready for it, though, returning his hug and offering my cheek. And while yes, he kissed me goodbye after lunch, I’m not sure that means we’re at the kissing hello stage.
He wraps me in his arms, his muscles firm beneath the smooth fabric of his blue button-down shirt.
He looks delicious in dress pants, the blue shirt tucked in, sleeves cuffed at the elbows, the top button undone, and his hair loose, giving the dressy but not overdressed vibe that he pulls of so effortlessly.
“You look nice,” I say as he releases me.
He gives me a big smile. “Thank you. So do you.” I follow him inside his condo, leaving the front door open because I don’t think we’ll be staying long. “You ready?” he asks, picking up his keys and wallet from the coffee table in the living room.
But I’m frozen in place for a beat. Without answering, I move into the hallway that I assume leads to the bedroom and bathroom. Stopping, I stare at the “artwork” hanging on the wall.
I’m torn between melting at how sweet he is and laughing my ass off. I settle for turning to him and pointing at the paintings on the wall—the paintings we did that first night we went out spontaneously. “You hung them up?”
He shrugs, hands in his pockets, not looking at all bashful. “Of course I did. We worked hard on those. They deserve to hang in a place of honor.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “I’m not so sure about that .”
He grins, shrugging again. “I am.” He holds out his hand to me. “Should we go?”
“And see some real art?” I quip, taking his hand. “I’m really looking forward to this.”
“Good,” he says, his voice going suddenly deep again as he pulls me closer and kisses me on the lips.
“There. I’ve been wanting to do that again since the last time.
” He stares down into my eyes for a moment, then sucks in a deep breath.
“We should go before I get too caught up and forget that we have reservations.”
A small smile curving my lips, I lift an eyebrow. “Reservations?”
He throws me a confused look as he steps to the door and locks the handle. “Of course reservations. I want to make sure we get a good table, don’t have to wait, and get to the museum early enough that we have plenty of time to enjoy the place. I don’t want you to feel rushed.”
Still grinning, I shake my head. “I never would’ve guessed you’d be this sweet.”
His brows crimp together. “Uh, thanks, I think? I’m not sure how to take that.”
Laughing, I walk through the open door, waiting in the hallway for him to lock the deadbolt. “It’s a compliment. But you have to know that hockey players, especially ones who are known for partying, don’t exactly have a sweet and cuddly reputation.”
He reaches for my hand, threading his fingers through mine, and the contact sends waves of warmth flooding through me. This man makes me melt.
Shaking his head, he says, “I’m not sure why, honestly.
Sure, some of the guys are assholes, but that’s true anywhere.
Just like there are some guys who are good with kids, and some who aren’t.
” He gives me a quizzical look. “Isn’t making reservations and taking you places you want to go kinda the bare minimum? I always thought so.”
I glance at him, my lips pursed. Is that the bare minimum?
Is this what I should’ve been expecting even with Kyle?
I’m not sure why I settled for so little for so long, especially when there are guys like Jack in the world.
The paintings? Dinner reservations? An art museum?
Maybe it shouldn’t be so surprising, but for me? It definitely is.
He doesn’t seem to notice my sidelong glance, though, and keeps talking.
“I may not have the most experience with relationships myself, but I’ve watched my coaches and teammates over the years.
Abernathy, the captain, is married and has two kids.
Some of the guys joke around and say he’s whipped and that his wife carries his balls in her purse, and he just laughs along and nods.
He likes it that way. I figure if one of the toughest, fastest players I know is happy to make his wife happy, then he must be on to something.
They’ve been together since college and seem to be as in love as ever. ”
I listen to all this with rapt attention as we get on the elevator and take it to the ground floor.
“That’s amazing,” I murmur, not sure which part floors me the most. That Jack doesn’t have a lot of experience with relationships?
That his captain doesn’t care his teammates call him whipped?
That he uses his captain as a blueprint for his own romantic relationships?
Or that he thinks the dates he’s been taking me on is the bare minimum when to me it feels like a dream?
I know, somewhere deep down, that Kyle never really appreciated me.
Not even in the beginning. He always liked what I did for him more than he liked me for my own self.
And it’s weird to have someone just … like me.
Like spending time with me. Enjoy doing things because they make me happy without expecting me to pay him back—with interest—later on.
Sure, Jack offered to take me out as a ploy to rehab his reputation.
Or at least that’s what he said to me. But the more time we spend together, the more I think that ploy was just to get me to agree to go out with him regularly.
If it helps his reputation and keeps him from being bored, that’s a bonus. But the real motivation was to see me .
And …
I don’t know how to feel about that. I like it, of course, but it brings back all those too-good-to-be-true feelings I talked through with my therapist earlier. How long until he decides I’m annoying or what I like is annoying and up and ends things?
That’s my real fear, if I’m being honest.
Kyle liked me—loved me, he said—for quite a while.
Until one day, he just didn’t anymore. With no rhyme or reason as to why.
Suddenly, all the things that he used to find endearing were obnoxious and needed to stop—my love of baseball, my enjoyment of making crafts, my time spent on social media.
Never mind that staying on top of social media was literally part of my job, and that he thought it was cool that I was into sports when we first met.
Baseball was the wrong sport, according to him.
Will Jack eventually feel the same way?