Page 66 of That Thing You Brew
And I was hers.
“I know you’re watching me.” The mass of blankets with the crown of braids shifted, and the top half of her face poked out. “C’mere, birthday boy.”
“As you wish.” I probably overused that phrase, but as long as it resulted in laughter, I felt no need to vary it.
Her muffled giggles were my siren song, leading me to her as she rose to sit. I wrapped my arms around her and rocked her in a long hug-to-remember, as she called them. It was my first birthday as a married man, and I felt incredibly fulfilled and happy.
“You going for a run?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Just some circuit training. You wanna join me?”
“Nah. I’ve got a cake to finish.” She grinned and pressed her lips to mine. I held on when she tried to pull away, and we fell to the mattress. I hovered above her, then eased myself down to place a soft kiss on her forehead, then as many freckles as I could until she playfully pushed me away. I grinned. “I don’t need a cake. Sleep in.”
“Not a chance, husband. You just wait. It’s a good luck cake,” she taunted.
“In that case…” One more kiss. “I’ll leave you to it.”
* * *
The cake turnedout to be a giant sheet pan of the Coffee Loft’s Irish Cream brownies. They were topped with a layer of liquor-infused frosting and green and orange sprinkles. Penny remembered that I bought a bunch every March. Her touching gesture was exhilarating.
By the time we arrived at the Coffee Loft for my pregame coffee, I was walking on air, and there wasn’t anything that was going to bring me down. Not even that jerk Dante Leinecker. We were playing Tulsa tonight, and I was going to take a page from Dani’s book and pretend he didn’t exist.
I dropped Penny off at the back door and circled around. As I suspected, there were more fans than usual waiting. It was a Sunday, and my birthday, and a holiday. The trifecta of reasons to show up where you knew one of your players was sure to be.
I steered into the spot they were saving for me and got out of the car slowly, scanning the people behind my dark sunglasses. Left side, Bubbles, Blossom, Buttercup, and a group of guys naked from the waist up and painted blue, each with a silver letter that spelled GO EDGE. On the right, a handful of kids I’d coached at the Plex’s summer camps and one familiar little guy holding a stick that used to belong to me.
I pulled a permanent marker from my jacket and waved to the left siders as I turned right and walked straight to the kid I’d met in December, fist-bumping the camp kids on the way. “Hey, Isaac. Great to see you again, bud.”
“You remember my name?”
“Swanny rememberseveryone’sname.” A taller kid behind him lifted his fist for a bump.
I grinned, giving him knuckies as I took the stick from a shocked Isaac. “Hey, Gordie. How’s your new team rolling?” Gordie had been a member of the Plex’s Flying Stars team and Jason’s buddy when he was a Volt, as well as a student of Lauren’s when she taught at his school in Colorado Springs. Jay still worked with him, when he had time. Gordie had been born without his left hand and was killing it as a goalie on his club team.
“Just above the playoff line. Is Dex starting tonight?”
“As far as I know. You coming to the game?”
“Oh yeah. He got me and my mom a five-pack of tickets this year. We can’t miss your birthday, and I can’t wait!”
I grinned. “Be sure to come down for warmies. I’ll tell him you’ll be waiting, okay?”
“Okay!”
I signed a few pucks and jerseys, then went inside and stepped into the line. Penny was behind the counter, holding my coffee, but I’d wait my turn.
In front of me, Monty Biddington was bent over his grandmother’s wheelchair, talking to her heatedly. “Nana, I am not getting that for you. It’s poison. Full of sugar and even a bit of alcohol. You’re not going into diabetic shock on my watch.”
My lips twitched.
“Montgomery, I am an old woman, and if I want a treat on a Sunday, I’ll have it. So there’s Irish Cream in the frosting. Big deal. The alcohol content is surely less than the glass of champagne I had with my midnight snack.”
“Nana! You didn’t!”
“I most certainly did,” she huffed.
I smiled, imagining Penny as a nana and hoping we had grandkids that cared about us as much as Monty doted on his Nana Booboo.
