Page 38 of A Game Plan for Love

“Deon, I need some money,” Nathalie mutters in defeat after Nora refuses to back down.

“I didn’t swear,” he says, “Why do I have to pay?”

Nathalie cuts him a glare so sharp, Deon cowers. Jack barks out a laugh, and Deon slides a hundred-dollar bill out of his wallet and hands it to Nathalie. He leans in to kiss her cheek, and Nathalie rolls her eyes, but blushes.

Nora patiently waits for the money, and when it’s in her hand, she yells, “I’m going to meet the princesses!” She runs over to her mom, who looks like she’s seen a ghost. “Mommy, look! I have enough now!”

“That’s wonderful, baby.”

Addie’s voice cracks, and the table quiets. Nora is oblivious to the awkward silence, admiring the bill.

“Can I get ice cream now?” she asks.

“Let’s go,” Sawyer says, corralling Nora toward the counter to order. She gives the rest of the table a pointed look.

“Yes! Ice cream!” Henry cheers. “What kind are you going to get?” he asks Nora.

“Cookie dough.”

“That’s my favorite,” he says, taking her hand. “My wife—Mrs. Sawyer—makes the best cookies in the world.”

I can’t hear the rest of the conversation, but Jack nods at me before dragging Maren away, though she looks like she wants to eavesdrop.

Addie watches Nora with hesitant eyes, but when her laughter echoes through the air, she relaxes. Hazel eyes meet mine, and they’re tired.

I cover her hand with my own. “What’s wrong?”

“She wants to go to Florida so badly,” Addie whispers, “Saving every dollar bill I give her, but we can’t afford it. Not the trip Nora deserves.”

For a moment, I don’t know what to say.

It cuts Addie to the core, she can’t give Nora what she wants. It’s written all over her face. It’s exactly what makes her an incredible mother.

“It makes me feel like I’m a bad mom that I can’t take her,” she continues, tears brimming in her eyes. She sniffles and rubs away the tears. “Sorry. I’m bringing down the fun.”

“I know it may feel that way, but it’s so far from the truth.” I look over to Nora, who is pulling at Deon’s shirt to get his attention, “She looks at you like you hung the moon.”

Addie shifts to look over my shoulder, and whatever she sees makes her smile, then she rolls her eyes. “Thank you,” she says, “for listening. Again.” She lets out an anxious laugh. “I don’t mean to keep dumping all my crap on you.”

“I can carry it,” I say quickly. “All your crap.”

“I’ve got a lot.” She lifts her bag into the air. “I’m a hoarder.”

“What kind of ice cream do you want?” Nathalie screams.

I turn to Addie. “What would you like?”

“Do they have snow cones? The one with the gum ball at the bottom?”

When I’m done yelling our orders, I turn to Addie. “Didn’t peg you for a snow cone kind of girl.”

“I’m lactose intolerant, and I didn’t take Lact-aid before we left.” She grimaces, and I let the topic drop to fiddle with the strap of her leather bag. “What kind of ice cream do you like?”

“Vanilla, with every topping you can imagine. I call it garbage ice cream.” There’s a pause, so I add, “I’ve also been reading the list of stories you sent me.”

The color in her cheeks drains. “I didn’t think you would read them.”

“You underestimate me.” I lean in close. “So…do you often imagine falling in love with famous pop stars because I’m sensing a theme.”

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