Page 109 of Pucked Up Plans
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
Liliana reemerges with her bag, her street shoes replacing her skates.
“Will you be here again? I want to learn how to do a real spiral. Can you teach me?”
Liliana volleys between the two of us, her gaze remaining longer on me. “I’m heading back to school tomorrow, but I’ll be home for winter break. I’m sure we can find a time to skate together again, even if Daddy’s not busy.”
Lennon agrees with a head bob before Liliana finishes speaking. “Yes.” Her scrutiny fixates on me. “Get her number.”
“Lennon, manners,” I chide. The brat rolls her eyes at my reprimand.
“Keeley, can you please get Liliana’s number?” It’s not much better, but it’s not an argument I’m prepared for now.
Liliana covers up her smirk with her hands.
“Liliana, would you be so kind as to put your number in my phone so we can text when you’re in town?” I hand over the phone to her.
“Of course.” She hands it back after her fingers fly over the screen. “I texted myself so I have yours too.” A tinge of red flushes her cheeks, but she covers it up by quickly shifting her focus to Lennon. “I had a lot of fun and can’t wait to skate again.”
“Me too. Maybe you can meet Aubrey.” She must have discussed her friend with Liliana because she doesn’t appear confused. “She probably won’t skate. Oh, and she won’t eat any of those cookies you were talking about, but you should stillbring them ’cause I can’t wait to try them.” In true Lennon fashion, she rubs her belly and smacks her lips. As much as I try, I can’t control my eye roll.
“Sounds good, Lennon.” With a pat on my shoulder, she says, “I wish you luck for the future,” before walking away, a hearty chuckle following her retreat.
As much as I shouldn’t foster this type of behavior, I can’t help asking, “What type of cookies?”
Lennon’s entire face infuses with excitement, and when she answers, I understand. “S’nores cookies!”
I chuckle at her mispronunciation of the word. “Oh, snap. Think you’ll share with your old man?”
“If I have to.” With the strength of Midas, she somehow refrains from rolling her eyes.
“You’re the best, Len.”
It takes a few more minutes to pack up all our stuff, but soon we’re on the way out of the rink. A wave over my shoulder to Kenny, Lennon trails behind as we exit.
“You should call Tate,” she suggests as we climb into the truck.
Every time she mentions her, I’m conflicted. First, I can’t figure out where this sudden interest in Tate is coming from, besides what she heard from her mother. But second, does she know there’s something between us? She can’t be that intuitive about my feelings for the woman, can she?
I decide to test out the waters, feel her out to see where she’s coming from.
“Why should I call her?” I watch the rearview mirror for clues. Her head’s down, her effort on buckling her straps.
“’Cause I want to see her.”
“Tate or Aubrey?” I stress Tate’s name just slightly.
“Tate, duh. I have so many things to tell her.”
As kooky as she is with the things she says, there’s always a reason behind her words. It sometimes takes a while for the reason to be revealed, but there isalwaysa reason.
“Can you wait until tomorrow when she and Aubrey come for breakfast?”
“Are you going to let me have alone time with her?” she retorts, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror.
My loud gasp fills the truck. “Lennon, where is all this coming from?”
“She’s your girlfriend.” No hesitation or doubt in her tone.
