Page 102 of Faking it with the Billionaire
She gives an innocent shrug. “Like you don’t enjoy the cheerleaders at football games?”
“I don’t go to football games,” he says and straightens his back like he’s above sports or some shit.
“No, but you still like cheerleaders,” Aleksandra taunts.
I’ll bet the guy has his wife don a cheerleader costume for some crazy role-play shit in the sack.
Antonio clears his throat. “It seems our girls both have a common interest, ice skating.”
“Can Sophia and I go ice skating together?” Bristol asks.
“Liam, do you like to ice skate?” I ask, hoping we can get all three kids to bond, but I’d at least settle with the two girls being friendly toward one another. Maybe next year, they’ll be in the same class, instead of Bristol and Liam.
The little boy shrugs. “It’s okay. I prefer playing hockey over ice skating.”
Aleksandra smiles. “Did you know that Bristol’s father is an NHL player for the Ice Dragons?”
Liam’s eyes widen. “What? Really? No way.”
I smile. “Yes, I’ll bet I have an extra jersey that’s in your size.”
“Can I have one too?” Sophia asks, her eyes wide. “And could you sign mine with a heart next to your name?”
* * *
Dinner with the Morettis went better than Em or I could have ever anticipated.
Sophia made it clear that she had a crush on me, which was cute. I can’t help but wonder if that stemmed from her mother’s interest in the sport. And there was a commonality between the girls.
We have an ice-skating date set up for the three kids, and each of us is to bring at least one parent to attend. I can’t imagine Antonio letting Aleksandra go after learning about her interest in hockey.
Although that has less to do with the sport and more to do with the players or, as her daughter later put it, eye candy.
“Could you imagine having two kids?” Em asks.
She’s helping me finish the dishes while Bristol wipes down the dining room table.
“I don’t think two is that bad, but twins. Raising two infants and then toddlers at the same time.”
“They’re both six,” Em points out.
“Yes, but imagine two Bristols,” I say and nod toward the dining room.
“You got lucky with Bristol. She’s a good kid.” There’s a wide grin spread across Em’s face. “But I prefer one at a time. Gives a parent a chance to screw up one kid, not two, before the next is born.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Are you saying that I’ve screwed up Bristol?”
She exhales a heavy breath and shakes her head. “No,” she says cautiously. “Just that it can’t be easy raising a daughter on your own. First-time parents are bound to make mistakes somewhere along the way.”
I turn to face her, pinning her with my stare. “What mistakes do you think I’ve made?” I ask.
Em sucks in a sharp breath. “None! I’m not saying you’ve made any, just that the firstborns always get in trouble and never get away with anything. Parents are stricter on the first kid than the second.”
“And you know this from experience?”
“I have a younger sister, Amber. Our parents were a lot stricter on me than they were with her.”
“So, you’re saying that when we have another kid, we’ll be less strict on our little boy or girl because we’ve already done this once before?” I step closer, and she pulls her teeth between her bottom lip.
