Page 17 of Timelessly Ours

It shouldn’t gut me—feeling like I’d betrayed her trust. If her actions last night proved anything, it’s that we’d all been right all along.

Fuck. Just saying the words in my head leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

“Hope you’re hungry,” I say, setting the main dish in the center.

“It smells alright.” Nicole swallows and takes a swig of her ginger ale.

“Are you feeling ill?”

Her eyes dart to mine. “I feel great.” Her words are sharp and as if needing to prove something, she lifts the serving spoon and scoops up a piece of eggplant parmesan onto her plate. She cuts half of it and puts it on Rory’s plate.

Rory strolls into the room and pointedly looks at Nicole. “Thank you.”

Nicole laughs.

“Aren’t you going to say you’re welcome?”

Nicole’s shrug matches the one Rory gave her earlier. “I already did.”

Throughout dinner, Nicole took maybe two bites of the half eggplant parm she had on her plate.

Okay. It was exactly two bites.

But it’s not like I was being creepy about noticing. My vision is trained to detect everything happening in a two-hundred-foot-long hockey rink. Keeping an internal scoreboard of how many times Nicole managed to swallow her food sitting right across from me was an occupational hazard.

She did, however, eat most of the celery sticks on the table. Including the ones Rory passed her.

I’m upstairs with my daughter, reading her favorite Halloween book. As soon as hockey season kicks off and Daddy’s back to work full time, my little girl knows one thing; Halloween is coming.

Tucked under my arm, Rory follows along the pages and I’m battling with myself internally about what I refused to ask Nicole this afternoon.

“Hey, sweetie.” I set the book on the nightstand and begin to tuck her in. “Did…Kathy say something to upset you today?”

She shrugs but keeps her eyes on the book. “I dunno. Whatever it was, Nicole didn’t like it.”

“Do you remember?”

“Something about me not having a mother to clean my shoes or something.” She squints at the memory. “Then Nicole asked me to set up my toys so we can play.”

Rage and gratitude fill me, but I set it aside. “Has she…or anyone else said something like that to you before?”

She settles onto her pillow. “I dunno. Goodnight, Daddy.”

I shake my head. With the revolving door of nannies and sitters I’ve had over the years, who the fuck knows what someone might say in front of her, or worse…to my little girl about her mother.

The gossip about Rory’s mother abandoning her as a baby isn’t something I expect to keep her sheltered from forever. I was just hoping it would be when she was older. Like when young adults start digging into their family tree or some shit like that.

I’d been mentally preparing—even rehearsing—for years. But no matter how I phrase it, she’ll only hear one thing. Her mother didn’t want her.

Years ago—almost seven actually, I met a young woman at an NHL event. She was a big fan and seemed genuine and sweet. It was rare that I took someone to bed so soon after meeting them but…she was willing, we’d been drinking, and…nine months later, our lives changed.

Actually, my life changed.

Vicky was in her late twenties at the time and had zero interest in starting a family. She signed away all rights to the child and handed her over.

It wasn’t easy, but I managed to keep it out of the media for a while. But eventually had to come out and announce the new addition to the Collins name.

Kissing my girl goodnight, I sneak out of her room and head downstairs, preparing myself for battle with the last person I’d ever want to fight with.

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