Page 51 of Canadian Boyfriend

“So maybe youdon’tbend yourself. Or at least not as much as you used to?”

“Maybe,” she said thoughtfully.

“I have one more question.”

“Shoot.”

“Can we find a McDonald’s or something that’s open and get some actual food?”

Back at home, we decided to eat our burgers by the tree. “Too bad we didn’t take some of that Veuve to go,” Aurora called as I headed to the kitchen for napkins. “Champagne and McDonald’s would be a fitting end to this epic day.”

“Ah, but your wish is my command,” I said, making my way back with another bottle and turning off lights as I went until the only illumination came from the tree. “We had a bunch ofthis for a party a couple years ago, and there were two bottles left.”

“We can’t open the other bottle! Save it for when you have something to celebrate.”

I plunked it down on the coffee table along with a pair of squat juice glasses—champagne flutes were too fiddly for me, and I’d done my time with one earlier. “One, we can do whatever we want. Two, if surviving your mother and Sarah’s parents—and my daughter, God bless her—isn’t something to celebrate, what is?”

“Good point.”

I popped the cork and poured, and we clinked our glasses. I took a gulp—this stuff was not bad at all—heaved a sigh, and slumped against the back of the chesterfield. What an exhausting day. I felt like I’d played an entire game short a man.

Aurora had not leaned back along with me. She was still perched on the edge of her seat. “Thanks for all that, at my mom’s.”

“Thanks for all that here, earlier.” I picked up my Big Mac and took a bite. “Unnhh.” My stomach rumbled its appreciation.

She unwrapped her cheeseburger and finally sat back, but she twisted to face me. “Yeah, sorry about the starvation. The all-turkey dinner really is something, huh?”

I turned to face her, too, and we ate in silence, looking at each other as we chewed. Olivia had been playing with the settings on the tree lights, and they were blinking in a complex pattern that was reflected on Aurora’s face. She looked like… I didn’t even know, but I was suddenly suffused with gratitude that she’d come into my life. I felt like Scrooge being visited by a ghost who had turned his life around.

When I finished my Big Mac, I leaned forward to grab somefries. Olivia’s present to Aurora was on the table, and I gestured toward it and snickered. “Sorry about the figurine.”

“I will treasure it always,” she said, deadpan.

“Ha.”

“I actually will. It will remind me of you guys and the time we spent together.”

That pulled me up short, and I froze with a fry halfway to my mouth. It was strange to imagine my life without Aurora in it, and not good strange. All those ghosts left Scrooge once they’d done their thing, right?

She yawned. I didn’t want the evening to be over. “So what’s the deal with you and ballet and your mother? You’ve said it was a long story, and now…” I picked up my champagne. “We’ve got nothing but time.” We could stay up all night talking if we wanted to, and I kind of did. “I gather your mother was not pleased when you quit ballet?”

“She was not. But I could see the writing on the wall. I had to face the fact that I wasn’t good enough. I was good, but not good enough. And before you say anything—”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Usually this is the part of the story where people go, ‘Oh, no, I’m sure you were great.’”

“It sucks, but sometimes in elite sports, people just aren’t good enough.” I thought about some of the great players I’d shared the ice with over the years. “You don’t get to the NHL without seeing most of your colleagues at every level fall away. I guess the thing is to remember that while it might be true that you weren’t good enough, it’s not a moral statement.”

She cocked her head. “What does that mean?”

“You weren’t good enough to make it at the highest levels,fine, but that doesn’t meanyouaren’t good. It’s not a personal moral failing.”

She raised her eyebrows like what I’d said surprised her—but pleased her, too? “The thing was, I might have been good enough. I had a few physical things to overcome, but I couldn’t hack it emotionally.”

“Well, I stand by what I said. It’s still not a moral failure. And honestly, if the people in New York were anything like your mother, I’m not surprised.”

“They were worse,” she said with a mirthless laugh. “Well, that’s not fair. Some of them, individually, were good, but the system…” She blew out a breath. “It wasn’t good forme, anyway.”

---