Page 78 of Slap Shot

“Your desserts, and that’s it.”

“Lexi said Riley made the garlic bread.”

“Okay. That’s two things. Everyone relied on store-bought stuff, dishes they ordered from restaurants, or their chefs made it.”

I look around the room that’s full of laughter and energy. Maverick and Emmy are at the head of the table, smiling at each other in a secret way none of us are privy to. Eight other players take up the opposite side of the table, and all of them are eating like their lives depend on it.

“Did anyone else bring their chef? I met most of the players.”

“No,” Hudson says. “But I consider you more than that. We’re friends now, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” I watch him wipe his thumb—the same thumb that touched my cheek—on his napkin. Heat inundates my body, and I take a sip of my water. “I do.”

“Huh.” His dimple pops when he smiles. He scoots an inch closer to the table, and, inadvertently, me. “You don’t sound too sure. Guess I need to do a better job at showing you you’re not just an employee. That I appreciate you.”

I’m trying to imagine a version of him that’s better than who he is right now, and I’m coming up short.

How do you improve on the man who lets me and my daughter take over his condo? How do you top the guy who watches her so I can spend time with the women I’m becoming close with and treats her with respect and kindness? Is there another person out there who will clean up their dishes late at night, even though they’re exhausted?

He’s not just a friend.

I don’t know how he’s done it, but in the two months I’ve known him, he’s made himself one of mybestfriends, and I’m happier because of it.

“You do plenty,” I say. “I’m glad I get to be here. With your teammates. With Lucy. With you. Thank you for saying I should come.”

His smile grows, and he taps the spot on the table between us. “I’m glad you’re here too.”

“Listen up, everyone.” Maverick scoots back in his chair and stands. “You all know what time it is.”

“Oh, no,” I whisper to Hudson. “Is this a human sacrifice thing? Do you all drink blood and that’s why you’re so fast on the ice?”

“You should come to book club,” he whispers back. “Grant would love to chat your ear off about dark romances.”

I laugh and scoop Lucy into my lap. I want her close so I can interpret for her, even if it’s going to be difficult for me to keep up with whatever speech Maverick is about to give.

The potatoes were so good,Mommy.

Weren’t they?I could’ve had a whole plate.

“We’re going to share what we’re thankful for,” Maverick says, and when he catches me interpreting for Lucy, he slows down. “It can be a person. A thing. An experience. Anything that’s made you happy this year, and since I’m the best player at the table, I’m going to kick us off.”

Lucy giggles.I think he’s the best,but I like Hudson and Liam too!

They’re going to be very happy to know they’re your favorites.

“Feels like we should vote on that title,” Ethan calls out, and the guy next to him—Grant, I think—nods.

“Yeah. How are we definingbest, Cap? Because you got smoked in our three-on-three scrimmage at morning skate yesterday,” he chimes in.

“Ten suicides tomorrow, Everett,” Maverick draws out, and everyone laughs. “I know you’re all sick of hearing me say it, but I’m thankful for my Emmy girl. Through the good. The bad. You’re always by my side, and I can’t believe I get to do life with you. This year has tested the heck out of us, but I love you more than I did yesterday, and I’m going to love you even more tomorrow. Thank you for choosing me, baby. You know I’m always going to choose you.” He sits and scoots his chair closer to Emmy, and it takes everything in me not to audibly swoon.

Do they love each other, Mommy?Lucy asks, and I nod.

Very much, I tell her.

Do you love anyone like that?

Just you, peanut, and that’s more than enough.

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