Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
The real problem is not the potential of what could be between me and Mazzy but how it would affect my daughter. That right there is the great unknown.
“What’s up?”
I’m jolted from my thoughts as Boone sits on the bench beside me, similarly dressed in his base layer all the way up to his hockey pants. Skates in hand, he slips one foot in the left and starts lacing it up. “Looks like you were deep in thought. Sorry if I ruined some mojo you had going.”
“It’s all good. Just trying to get my head in the game.”
And failing.
Boone nods, head bent over his skate. He’s focused on his task and I wonder how he does it. He’s a man who, at the end of last season, managed to keep lasered in on his game all while befriending a young boy dying of cancer and subsequently falling for that boy’s sister, Lilly. That was a lot of shit on his plate and he handled all of it with such ease. More importantly, he figured out how to forge a relationship when a kid was in the mix.
A light bulb goes off in my head as I realize that Boone has had to navigate similarly murky waters that I face.
“Hey, man. Can I ask you something personal?”
Boone sits up straight and angles toward me on the bench. “Sure.”
“How did you know that it was okay to date Lilly when she had her younger brother to take care of? Weren’t you concerned that Aiden might not like that or be bothered by it?”
Boone stares at me intently, probably trying to figure out where this off-the-wall question came from. He ponders a moment before he replies, “To be brutally honest, Aiden didn’t even cross my mind when I was thinking about my attraction to Lilly. I think I sort of compartmentalized what I felt for her and what I felt for him.”
“But at some point, you decided to go for it?”
“Yeah. I mean, I knew that Aiden had to be okay with everything. He was the linchpin.”
“So you just talked to him? Said I want to date your sister and asked his permission?”
“Something like that. Luckily, he was all for it. He wanted Lilly to be happy.”
Could it be something as simple as asking Bowie Jane if she would be okay if I… what?
Kissed Mazzy?
Fucked Mazzy? Yeah, can’t talk to my kid about that.
Asked her out on a date?
That seems feasible.
The worst that could happen is my kid tells me it’s not a good idea or that she doesn’t want me to date Mazzy. And then I have to accept that.
But should I talk to Mazzy about this first? Should I ask her out on the date but let her know that I want to talk to Bowie Jane, or should I hit my kid up for permission first?
There’s no clear answer. But Boone has normalized dating someone when a child, who could be affected by the experience, is involved.
“You okay?” Boone asks.
I blink and focus on him. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Because that was a very specific question. Are you thinking of dating and worried about Bowie Jane?”
I give him a wry smile. “My nanny. We had a moment… there’s a spark between us. But it’s complicated because—”
“—she’s your nanny.”
I nod. “And I have to be careful because she’s developed a good relationship and bond with Bowie Jane. I can’t fuck that up.”
“So, talk to your daughter about it,” Boone says.
“She’s only ten,” I reply with worry.
“I’ve met your kid,” Boone says with a laugh. “She’s ten going on thirty. She’s absolutely mature enough to understand this.”
He’s not wrong about her maturity level. People are always astounded by it. “I know. You’re right.”
Boone stands from the bench and turns toward his cubby. He pulls on his shoulder and elbow pads. Glancing back at me, he says, “But I suggest you put all of that aside right now and focus on the game. Trust me… I know from personal experience how hard it is to be in the moment when you have other things vying for your attention.”
I rise from the bench and move to my cubby, grabbing my shoulder pads. “No need to tell me twice.”
Resolved that at least I have an action plan, I put Mazzy, and whether we could start something, firmly out of my mind. The Montreal Wizards are awaiting an ass-kicking.
♦
I’m perched on the edge of the bench, one hand gripping my stick, the other resting on the rink wall. I’m on next shift, ready to swing my legs up and over when it’s time.
The first line just got out there and my eyes are pinned to the action. The arena is a living, breathing entity—a whirlwind of energy and noise. Above, the bright lights dance and the flashing Jumbotron provides a close-up of the action. The sharp, crisp scent of ice fills my nostrils, and I can feel the eagerness of my linemates, raring to go out and do our job.