Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
I met her gaze, missing the intimacy we’d shared. She was the chef at The Sleepy Moose right now, and I wanted Shea, the woman who was ticklish and got tipsy off of a single drink.
There was a softness in her eyes that gave me a glimpse of that side of her, but it passed quickly. I tried not to be alarmed, but how could I not be? All I wanted was to tell Shea how much I wanted her, and instead, we’d taken a step back at her insistence.
She bent down next to Spencer. “Thank you again for my present. I love it so much.”
He smiled at her through a bite of pancakes. “You’re welcome.”
She kissed him on the forehead and I felt a warm sensation in my chest. Spencer thought he had outgrown affection years ago, but he didn’t seem to mind it from Shea.
“Marley, can I have a hug?” she asked.
Marley got up and approached Shea, wrapping her arms around Shea’s waist and looking up at her.
“Do you want to come to my sleepover?”
It was all I could do not to look at Shea. A sleepover sounded like a damn good idea to me.
“I...might,” Shea said, clearly caught off guard. “But for now, I have to get back to the kitchen.”
She turned to leave and Spencer said, “Hey, what about Dad?”
“What do you mean?” Shea asked, looking at me.
“You didn’t say goodbye to Dad.”
Her expression softened and she walked over to me. “Well, we can’t have that.”
My pulse pounded as I hugged her, the familiar coconut scent of her shampoo making me wish for more than a hug.
“Thanks for this,” I said in her ear.
“You’re welcome.”
I reluctantly released her and she held my gaze for a couple of seconds before turning to go. Instinct told me to chase after her, to not let go of the best woman I’d ever known because the timing was off.
I didn’t, though. Instead, I watched her walk back to the kitchen, not sitting back down until the door had closed behind her.
“Shea is beautiful,” Spencer said.
“Yes, she is.”
I wasn’t sure who was crazier about Shea—me or my son. But I had a feeling I was going to be the one who missed her the most.
“Your utensil drawer should always be close to the dishwasher,” my mom said that evening as she unloaded cutlery from a kitchen drawer.
“You know more than I do about that stuff, so rearrange anything you want,” I said. “I’m ordering the pizza soon. What do you guys like on yours?”
“If you’re ordering from Northern Lights, we like Sven’s Special.”
“I love that place, but I’m just curious. Does any other place deliver?”
“No, but the Kirby’s gas station has delicious pizza and it’s a lot cheaper than Northern Lights if you don’t mind picking it up.”
My parents had refused every financial gift I’d ever tried to give them. They were too proud to accept it, preferring to pay their own way. I knew they were financially secure, but I still wished they’d let me help out.
“I’ll remember that,” I said.
“Grandma, let’s read stories,” Marley said as she walked into the kitchen.
My mom put down the forks in her hand. “I’m on my way, granddaughter!”
I’d built a massive house with six bedrooms. We each had a bedroom, there were two guest rooms, and the kids had a shared space with a castle built into one wall that served as a play area and reading nook for now, pillows covering the floor inside the castle. The builder had designed that room to be converted into a study room when the kids got older.
Our basement had a theater room, a game room and a room for my hockey memorabilia. The main level was open, smelling of fresh-cut wood and painted light gray with white woodwork.
I wanted to show it to Shea. I wanted to sit with her in the rocking chairs on my deck and hear about her day while we watched the sun setting over the lake.
“You look lost in thought,” my dad said, putting a hand on my shoulder.
“Just thinking about everything it took to get here.”
He nodded, the lines in his face etched deeper than before, but his eyes were still full of the wisdom I’d always admired in him. My dad was a rock; nothing threw him for a loop. Or if it did, he never let it show.
“You know how proud I was of your career,” he said. “I can only imagine the amount of commitment it takes to play at that level for more than a decade. But I’ve never been more proud than I was on the day you retired.”
Emotion flooded my chest; my dad was always supportive but rarely emotional.
“You’ve made your kids number one for a year now,” he said. “And look at them, they’re thriving.”