Page 31 of Canadian Boyfriend

How did shedothat?

I almost told her then. Told her that yes, not only did Mike Martin know what kind of pie I liked, but Mike Martin was also the one who had gotten me eating pie in the first place. That Mike Martin had become my pie dealer. But if I told her that, I might not be able to stop telling her things. Like about how I was pretty sure I had met Mike Martin more than a decade ago and had created a whole fictional version of him that turned out to be simultaneously nothing like him and everything like him.

Gretchen stared at me for a few more beats with her finger guns cocked. I expected her to bust my ass over… something. I wasn’t even sure what. She must have taken pity on me, though, because she only said, “Guess what? I finally fired Riley.”

8—THE HOSER

MIKE

“Hang on a sec. I have to get this. It’s Aurora.”

It was a Tuesday, and I was on a walk with Ivan in Denver before our morning skate. Aurora always called, as opposed to texting, when something serious was going down. I got nervous when I saw her name on the display but reminded myself that what Aurora deemed serious—like the time she accidentally drove home with Olivia’s school backpack in her car—was generally not the same as what I deemed serious.

“Hi, did I wake you? It’s early there, right?”

“No worries—I was up. What’s happening?”

“I’m sorry to do this, but I can’t take Olivia home this evening. I’m not going to be teaching my last class today. Gretchen is going to cover it.” I desperately wanted to know what was happening to pull her from class, given what Gretchen had told me about her stubborn refusal to take any time off. It was none of my business, though, so I kept my mouth shut as she explained that Olivia could hang out at the studio and Gretchen would keep an eye on her. “Then I can come get her later.”

As per usual, Aurora’s definition of urgent was not setting off any alarm bells. “No problem. I’ll ask Lauren to make sure she has her reading response stuff with her, and she can work on it after class.” I glanced at Ivan, whose attention had been drawn by the sound of his wife’s name.

“Are you sure? I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I paused. Well, hell, maybe Icouldask what was happening. Even though we barely saw each other in person, Aurora and I had developed a genuine friendship over text. “I hope everything’s OK?”

“Oh yeah, I’m just looking at an apartment. I have a lead on a place I might be able to get for a steal. But I have to commit tonight if I want it because it’s getting listed publicly tomorrow.”

“I didn’t know you were moving.” Though it made sense. She had mentioned that she was shouldering all the rent at her place since her breakup.

“I really don’t need a two-bedroom, so it’s time to downsize.”

An idea rose inside me, all at once and all of a sudden. Like the Grinch with his wonderful awful idea, but I was pretty sure this one wasn’t awful. I felt a little bit like you do on a breakaway, when you know you’re going to score, when adrenaline and confidence mix together to power your legs, creating a sense of inevitability, like you’re skating toward your destiny.

The image of Aurora twirling in my kitchen with Olivia, her charm bracelet clinking, rose in my consciousness.

“No worries about tonight.” I needed to hang up and think through my idea and decide for sure that it was unawful.

“What was that?”

Right. Ivan. It wasn’t that I’d forgotten him. We were still strolling Denver’s downtown pedestrian mall after a coffee run.Except… Ihadsort of forgotten him. “Aurora is moving, and she has to go look at an apartment tonight so she can’t take Olivia home.”

He nodded, apparently satisfied with this answer.

“She and her boyfriend broke up a couple months ago, and she can’t afford the place on her own,” I added, waiting for more of a reaction but getting none. I don’t know what I was expecting. For him to bust my balls, I guess, but hello, were we twelve? And more to the point, there was no reason for him to bust my balls over Aurora’s relationship status.

“I’m thinking of asking her to move into my house.”

His head whipped around. “What now?”

Ha. There it was.

I called her before the game. I would have preferred to do it after, because of the argument I knew we were going to have to have, but I didn’t know what time she was looking at the apartment, and I wanted to get to her before she signed anything.

“Hi,” she answered. “Everything OK?”

It cracked me up how when one of us called the other, the callee assumed something was wrong. I launched right into it. “Move in with me.” Wait. That sounded wrong. “Move in with me and Liv.” Nope, try again. “Move into my house.”

“What?”

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