Page 68 of Canadian Boyfriend

When he was done with the dishwasher, he leaned against the island and… contemplated me. OK, maybe we weren’t back to normal.

I worked hard to keep things light. “So you only grow the beard when you’re in a team setting where everyone else is doing it for junk-science reasons.”

He barked a laugh. “Yep.”

“When was the first time you grew one?” This was so stupid. It was him that day at the mall. I knew it. If I wanted orneeded it confirmed, I should have asked him. But the thing was, I should have asked him when I first met him, or at the very least when I moved into his house.

“Probably in the WHL. Beards were always kind of funny there, because some of the guys were so young they couldn’t really grow them. They wanted to, but what came in was patchy and pathetic.”

“You were pretty young then, too, right?”

“Yeah, but I was cursed with this”—he stroked his chin—“from pretty much the moment puberty hit.” He stared into space like he was remembering something. “Nope, the first time I was forced to grow a beard for team superstition reasons, I was in Chicago. I remember now because I’d gone out of town to watch a high school tournament, and I was going crazy with the itching. I had to get some dental work done, and I was considering shaving and telling the team the dentist required it.”

He chuckled. I tried to join him, but my heart started hammering like it was wearing its own little tap shoes.

“In fact, it was here!”

Well,shit.

“Well, at a rink in Bloomington,” he qualified. “My old high school was part of it—my high school at home, I mean, where I played the one year. My buddy’s little brother was on the team, so I drove up from Chicago to see a couple of their games.”

And there it was. I’d known it all along, though, hadn’t I? That there was some explanation for the age math that didn’t add up? My tap-dancing heart was going for an encore. I took a deep breath and tried to tell myself it didn’t matter.

“What was his name?” I asked. “Your friend’s little brother?”

“Erik,” he said thoughtfully. He had resumed looking intospace. His eyes narrowed. Oh my God. Was he going toremember? After all this time?

“I was just trying to think if I know what he’s up to these days. I’m in touch with his brother, but only sporadically, and I’ve kind of lost track of Erik.”

My heart calmed, but I was still feeling gross in a way I couldn’t articulate when Olivia came clattering in and turned her iPad toward Mike Martin. She had lately been cruising online stores for dresses for the year-end dance. He leaned toward it eagerly—he was always so genuinely into whatever she wanted to show him—but then pulled away. “Two hundred dollars for a dress? For a middle schooler?”

She made a noise of frustration, and I picked up my plate and started backing away. Mike Martin met my gaze, and I expected him to tell me not to go, but he just sent me a little eye roll as he listened to Olivia talk about sequins.

I took the opportunity to flee.

Mike:Sorry about that.

The text came a bit later as I was sitting in my bedroom thinking about Mall Mike and trying to decide if I believed in fate.

I wasn’t sure what he meant. Sorry because he thought I’d been chased out of the kitchen by Olivia’s dress demands, or sorry because we’d almost kissed?Hadwe almost kissed? And if so, did Iwanthim to be sorry? Well, whatever the answer to all those questions, it wasn’t like it was going to affect my response.

Aurora:No problem.

I could hardly be like,I am not sorry we almost kissed, if that is in fact what you are sorry about.

Mike:I’m not spending two hundred bucks on a dress for an eleven-year-old.

Mike:That’s crazy, right? On principle?

He did this sometimes—he was, on the surface of things, making conversation, but I had come to understand that he was seeking confirmation that he was a good parent. I was happy to give that.

Aurora:It does seem outrageous.

There was a long wait for his reply. He was typing, but then those bubble things disappeared. Then reappeared.

Mike:Olivia’s grandparents want her over spring break, and she wants to go.

Yes. I’d heard them talking about this.

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