Page 67 of Love of the Game
A little of the sunshine fell into seriousness. “I’ll have to talk to Ella first, of course, but she’s been running Hideaway while I’ve been rehabbing. I bet—I hope—she wouldn’tmind partnering with me. We’ll see. I hate admitting this, but it’s been nice not being in charge all the time, and they don’t actually need me that much—it’s mostly that I stabilize the place, you know? Money-wise. Margins are always close. It’s been in the black for a while, but when it wasn’t I—” He waved a hand.
“Paid the difference?” Because he could. And he would’ve to keep the staff on and the community there safe.
“It’s—I could do that, so I did. Point is, I can be more of a silent partner.”
“You?Silent?”
He gave me a gently shove. “You said yes to marrying me.”
“I did.” God, he was so beautiful like this. Playful. Happy. Looking to the future. “Talk to Ella, then to MaryAnne. I think it’s a good plan. I bet kids are going to love you as a coach.”
He grinned at that. “Should we go in and tell the guys I’m retiring and marrying you?”
That was bound to turn the lounge into a madhouse. “Bet you no one had that on their bingo card. Not together.”
“Eh, you never know…”
This time I was the one to laugh. We walked back into the facility, arms wrapped around each other, joy in our hearts.
One YearLater
Whenever we stepped into Target, I lost Jon. One moment, he was by my side, the next… vanished. Poof. He’d usually reappear with something absolutely ridiculous. One time, it was a giant squishable pillow in the shape of a lion. Another, it was a shower curtain with cute otters holding hands.
The perils of buying a house together, I guess. We’d swapped back and forth between our homes last year, but with Jon’s coaching job, we’d ended up in Pittsburgh most of the time. Ella had full run of Hideaway, now, so there was no need to return to Greensburg that often. So Jon had sold his house near the woods. Together, we’d bought another house north of Pittsburgh that backed up against a protected nature area that had a stream with rocks for Jon to sit on. Lots of walking and hiking, too. The area even had back roads for Jon to ride his bike on when the weather was good.
After some renovations and painting, we were finally moving into our new place.
But once more, Jon had disappeared during a Target run. Tonight, he reappeared wearing a flower wreath on his head and another in his hand. “It’s midsummer!” He set the wreath down on my head.
“This isn’t going to turn into some horror movie with a human sacrifice, right?”
Pretty sure the rest of the store heard his laugh. “No, no. It’s a party with food and flowers and games. No weird rituals that involve blood or unsuspecting tourists. He peered into the cart. “We should get cookies.” He paused. “We should go to IKEA!”
Oh God. Ever since we moved into our new home, that place was like letting Jon loose in a funhouse. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was getting tired of meatballs. “We should go to the house and unpack more before the cats decide the stacks of boxes are their new cat trees.
He snorted. “Before?”
I had to laugh at that. “Come on, let’s getthe stuff we need and get out of here.” Before he found something else, like rainbow His and His T-shirts or something.
“All right. But I’m getting cookies.”
I left the flower crown on, gave in, and steered us to the cookie aisle, which was, of course, when one of his players found us.
“Hey, Coach Erik!” The young woman had dark brown hair tied back in a ponytail and was wearing shorts and a Lions Hockey T-shirt. She peered up at his head and had one of those expressions teens get when they think adults are acting weird. “Wow. I like the flowers.”
“Midsummer,” he said. “It’s a Swedish thing. Flowers and food and fun.”
I hung back, leaning on the handle of the cart. I loved watching Jon interact with the kids he coached. The U16 team had won their championship under him last season. They’d start up again soon. There were some hockey clinics coming up that Jon would be a part of—and apparently, so would this kid, since she was animatedly telling him about the new gear she’d gotten. “Dad even let me get new skates.”
“You bake them?” Jon asked.
“Nivisha?” A man—obviously her dad—rounded the aisle. His hair was graying, but they shared the same South Asian complexion. He was dressed very dad-like in a white polo, dark blue shorts and boat shoes.
“Dad, it’s Coach Erik!”
He eyed Jon’s crown, then glanced at me, then did a double take, his eyes widening. Then he focused back on Jon, who promptly stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Gupta. Nivisha was telling me you got her new gear for the upcoming season?”
That led to a conversation about the price of equipment,but how much Nivisha loved hockey and how he wanted her to have the best so she could play the best.
