Birthday Girl: A contemporary sports romantic comedy (Minnesota Ice Book 3)
Page 18
“It’s okay—”
“It’s not okay. He missed everything. Your ballet recitals, your flute lessons... he missed our family vacation to Mexico. He stayed home to work that weekend, do you remember?”
Reluctant, I nod. A part of me had pushed those memories away, blanked out the worst ones in the hopes that he’d change. There was always the hope that he’d change. To a small degree, I suppose there still is. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be going to dinner with him tonight.
“I still love your father. He’s the father of my child—our child.” My mother’s voice is hoarse, raspy as she flicks her gaze over my shoulder to make sure we’re still alone. “But I couldn’t stand to watch him break your heart over and over again.”
There’s a sudden lump in my throat, and I’m finding it hard to speak.
“It wore me down, grated on me over and over again for years. Do you know what it’s like when your husband says he’ll be home for dinner... when he tells his daughter to expect him that evening, and then doesn’t show?”
“Mom—”
“I was the one stuck watching you wait for him on the front curb. Watching as the sun set, and he still wasn’t there. Watching as your smile faded just a little bit with each car that passed and wasn’t his.”
Her hands ball into fists, a tiny bit of a tremor rocking her body.
“Always waiting, always smiling—somehow, you kept a huge grin on your face every time this happened for so long. Too long. You were so optimistic, honey.” A memory of a smile warms her cheeks for a moment, but the memory ages her. Lines her face with those lingering worries, missed dreams, lost hopes. “Nothing could fix the look in your eyes, though, when you finally gave in. When I made you come inside for dinner with one empty place setting.”
My mother pauses for a moment to run a hand across her eyes. She gives one dainty sniff, as if banishing the urge to show any emotion, and continues with dry eyes.
“That’s why I’m with Claude now,” she says. “I need a companion, a friend, someone who is there for me. I’m not looking for more money, more work, more... things. I just want someone’s time. Their presence, a listening ear, or a hug. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
My mom’s never opened up to me about these things before, and I’d never considered the pain she went through. Double the pain, in fact. The pain of losing a husband while her daughter lost faith in her father. I’d been selfish thinking I’d had it the worst.
“But you were always there,” I finally manage to say. “I always had you.”
“We were supposed to be a family. If these things had happened once, twice, three times—I’d understand. I’m a forgiving person, Annie, but hundreds of times? I had nothing left to give.”
My mother’s shoulders sag, and she looks utterly run down. Completely exhausted, as if the memories of these years have returned in full force. I’m hurting for her and, even worse, I don’t know what I said to dredge everything up from the past.
“That’s why I looked through your phone records. I was trying to protect you from more disappointment. I shouldn’t have done it, I know. You’re a beautiful, successful adult.” My mother’s eyes well up again, and finally, one tear slides down her face. “But no matter how brilliant and self-sufficient you are, you’re still my baby.”
My own eyes are smarting. I mumble something nonsensical, but thankfully, my mom opens her arms and gifts me a hug that takes care of any words I want to say.
“I know he missed your last dinner,” she whispers against my ear. “He called that night to see if you’d come home, and of course I was confused. I told him I thought you were with him. We just want you safe more than anything.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I murmur against her shoulder. “I didn’t want to call you because it felt like you’d win or something, and I guess... I guess I didn’t want you to be right.”
“Honey...” Her arms rest on my shoulders, her fingers playing with the tips of my hair in the most soothing way. “I’m not perfect. But I’ll always be there if you need me.”
“Thank you for everything, mom, really.” I let the smallest of smiles inch over my face. “For what it’s worth, I knew I could always count on you. Even if he didn’t show up, you did. Every time. You still do.”
The smile on my mom’s face shines a light across those years of exhaustion, adding a luminosity to her skin and turning her age backward. “I love you, honey.”
“I love you too,” I mumble through a very weird gurgling noise that occurs as I try to swallow. “I’m also sorry I didn’t tell you about my boyfriend.”
“Speaking of boyfriends,” Gran says, apparently having eavesdropped from behind the double doors. “Hello, yes, I’m here. And I came to announce there’s one huge hunk of burnin’ love out there, and I suspect he belongs to my granddaughter.”
My mother laugh-snorts, which makes me laugh-snort. Like mother like daughter.
“Well, I’d better find Clyde—” My mother stops, horrified, a hand to her mouth. “Oh, you little rats!” She points to my grandmother, and then me. “Look what you’ve done! Claude! Claude. Claude!”
“What?” Claude storms into the kitchen. “Who’s calling my name?”
“How are the pancakes?” I ask. “They taste okay?”
“I’d give them three out of five stars.” He nods. “Good work, Amanda.”
“Thanks, Clyde.”
By the time he leaves, my mother’s shoulders are shaking with laughter, and my Gran’s gripping the sink so hard it’s about to fall off. Maybe Claude is just what my mother needs after all.
“You ladies are the worst!” My mother gasps. “Stop it! And get cooking.”
“Wait, mom...” I grab her hand before she can grab her spatula. “Would you like to meet my boyfriend?”
Chapter 36
ANNIE
“Mom, over there is...” I hesitate as Cohen walks over to the door of the church basement and opens it for a flood of big, buff, grouchy-looking men that can only be his fellow teammates. “A heckuva lot more people than I expected.”
“Which one’s yours?” My mother surveys the crowd with an eager eye. “How did you meet?”
“You uh, you might recognize him,” I say. “We met at the—”
My words are drowned out as the group’s rowdy chatter grows in volume. Thank goodness Gran’s not out here, or she’d have a ball as money collector with this many men flooding into her zone. For everyone’s safety, we left Gran in the kitchen.
“Hey, sweetheart,” a familiar voice murmurs. “I missed you this week.”
Despite my blatant surprise, Cohen eases a hand behind my back and dips his head to brush a kiss to my lips. Just chaste enough to not offend my mother, just spicy enough to send signals down south.
“Cohen,” I say, once our lips have unlocked. “Meet my mother.”
Straightening, he doesn’t remove his left hand from my back as he extends the right one to greet my mother. I’m surprised to find that I adore this about him, the fact that he doesn’t care who is watching as he holds me to his side. Compared to an ex-boyfriend who wouldn’t hold my hand around others, it’s a welcome relief to find a man who’s not afraid of a little public affection.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Plymouth. Thank you so much for the invitation to come this morning. I hope you don’t mind I’ve brought a few friends.”
“A few?” My mother can’t stop grinning like a crazy person. “A whole herd, more like.”
Cohen laughs. “I mentioned the event to Coach, and he did the rest.”
I double-blink as the man known to me only as Coach, turns at the sound of his title and makes his way toward us. His gaze lands on mine, as if we share a secret. Maybe we do, I think, remembering the vending machine.
“Annie, is it? I believe we met once.” Our hands clasp, and he gives me the faintest of smiles. “After the last game?”
“Pleasure to see you again.”
“Well, I should get cooking then,” my mother says. “Please find seats, and we’ll bring your breakfasts shortly.”
“Oh, hey there, hockey boys!” Gran appears suddenly, completely unimpressed at the fact that an entire NHL team is standing before her. “Did you bring your money? We say five bucks a head, but I’m thinking twenty would really go a long way to support those kids.”
“Twenty bucks, everyone,” Coach bellows to the team. “Let’s go, fork it over, people.”
“Oh, wow.” Gran beams up at him like he’s George Clooney. “I didn’t expect that to work, but this is great. It’s going straight to charity.”
“How’d you get involved with this?” Coach asks Cohen.
“It’s for our bathing suits.” Gran snatches the money from his hand before he can possibly think about retracting it. “We’re all doing a synchronized swimming competition and needed matching uniforms. We’ve already covered those, though, so this is for the children. Annie’s boyfriend didn’t tell you?”
“Why, no, he didn’t mention it.” Coach turns to Cohen, his gaze somewhat mystified. “I wouldn’t have forgotten a detail like that.”
For the first time since I’ve known him, Cohen’s at a loss for words, his face coloring, eyes staring hard back at Gran.
“He just mentioned this was a fundraiser for the YMCA,” Coach continues. “But please, do tell.”
“It’s my fault!” I say again. “I forced Cohen to join.”
“You are...” Coach turned to Cohen. “Helping out with a synchronized swimming class?”
“Oh, he’s not teaching it,” Gran says, waving a hand. “He’s performing in it.”
Cohen’s eyes close, and he looks like he might die.
“It’s my fault,” I say, weaker this time. “Completely my fault.”
“Annie Plymouth,” Coach says, an amazed look on his face. “You are one incredible woman.”
“Seriously,” Gran says. “She’s my granddaughter. Pretty incredible! You should see her twirl in the water.”
“Cohen will have to give me the details of the show.” Coach lifts an eyebrow at his star forward. “I’d really love to see this.”
“I’ll send you the formal invitation.” Gran pipes up. “Venue is the YMCA. We’d love to have you there. I don’t think retirement organizations for synchronized swimming fetch much of an audience. We don’t even wear them skimpy bikinis that look so good on the beach volleyball ladies. My granddaughter said no.”
“I’ll be there,” Coach says. “Can’t wait.”
One by one, the players file into the room behind us, and I steal a moment to pull Cohen off to the side. My insides are squeezing with nerves. “Cohen, why? You didn’t have to bring your whole team here! I didn’t really expect you to show.”
“Of course I was going to show.” Already, the blush is leaving his cheeks. “I told you I’d always be there, and I meant it.”
“Yeah, but this is... silly.” I offer an apologetic smile. “I understand if you’d prefer not to do the competition thing with us. It was a stupid idea in the first place; I don’t need you to do random stuff to prove yourself to me. I trust you.”
“You...” Cohen pauses, his eyes searching mine. “You trust me?”
The words had just sort of popped out of my mouth without me thinking them. As if they’d been floating in my subconscious, just waiting for the moment to surface. I hardly realized I’d said the words at all.
“Yes, of course I do. You can back out, I promise.”
“Back out?” He shakes his head. “Nah. I don’t care what anyone thinks.”
“But—”
“Hey, Boxer.” Cohen gestures for one of his friends to join us. “Come here.”
A huge man with a chipped front tooth and a wide grin lumbers over to us. “What?”
“I’m part of a synchronized swimming team with Annie and her Gran.” Cohen grins. “We’re doing a competition.”
Boxer nods, chews on the thought, and then crosses his arms. “And?”
“Exactly. Let’s go eat, Annie.” Cohen grabs my hand, pulling me toward the table, but I dig my feet in until he stops and returns to me. “Something wrong?”
“Yes. No. Thank you,” I say, and then I sigh before continuing. “I wanted to be in love before we took things to the next level. I don’t know why, it’s just the way I felt, and... I don’t know. It feels too soon for love, but dammit, I think I’m falling for you, Cohen.”
The look on his face is priceless, one of shock and awe, and maybe a little bit of disbelief. He glances behind him, sees people, and tugs me into the nearest empty hallway. Easing me against the wall, my back presses against the cold blocks while our every step is muted by the rich red carpeting.
“Annie, I’m already falling for you.”
“We haven’t even slept together.”
As he presses against me, it’s clear how he’s feeling—mind, body, heart. When he speaks, his voice is husky, low, dripping with want. “Do you have any doubt that it’ll be perfect, too?”
Suddenly, the desire for him rips through my body, spins my stomach inside out, and I can’t wait any longer. “I want you, Cohen, so badly. Now.”
“Not now, sweetheart,” he murmurs in my ear. “Tonight. Tell me you’ll be mine tonight.”
“Yes, of course,” I say. “Before, if possible. What are you doing after this?”
“Goddammit.” His eyes are burning with a fire in them, the desperation there reflected in my own. “I have practice.”
“I have dinner with my dad tonight.”
He curses again, but I giggle and put my finger to his lips to warn him against swearing in church. “Come over after dinner,” he begs. “Please.”
“Yes.”
Pressing his lips to mine, he holds me so close I’m warm from the heat of his skin against mine. Every millimeter of his body is hard, his chest, his abs, his arms—one of them presses to the wall above my head, the other tipping my chin so he can ease deeper into the kiss.
Then that hand slides down the wall, skimming over my shoulder to caress my breast. I’m wearing a light, pretty summer dress and the fabric is thin enough that he groans when he makes contact.
“A-hem.” This loud, forced throat clear sends my swirls of heat spiraling into a place of burning embarrassment as we break apart.
“Coach!” Cohen says, sliding his hands away from my chest, the look on his face like that of a child caught peeking early at Christmas gifts. “Hello.”
“Hello, James.”
“Enjoying the pancakes?” Cohen murmurs.
“I am, actually. I just needed to use the restroom.” Coach raises his eyebrow again—he’s getting alarmingly good at this motion—and crosses his arms. “I don’t care what happens when I’m not looking, James, but I expect you to keep your damn head on straight for playoffs.”
“Yes, sir,” Cohen agrees. “Of course.”
“We need you him, understand?” Coach directs this question toward me. “Can you help me out on this?”
“Yes, sir.” I nod, not quite sure what to do with my hands. He continues to stare at me, so I add on a salute.
“Did you just salute me, Miss Plymouth?”
“Yes.” I wince under his stare. “Sorry.”
“After playoffs, he’s all yours,” Coach says, his gaze locked on mine. “Have him take you on a nice long vacation—Mexico, maybe?—and get your own damn room.”
“Yes, sir,” Cohen says.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Coach says, pushing past us, “I still need to use the restroom.”
“I’m really sorry,” I tell Cohen. His eyes are as big as saucers. “That awkwardness was probably all my fault.”
“I don’t know what to think,” Cohen
says slowly. “I’m even wondering if he likes us.”
“Likes us?!”
Cohen gives a mystified shake of his head, and then loops an arm around my shoulder. “I’ve never seen him smile before.”
Chapter 37
COHEN
“What do you think they’re talking about?” I ask, loading up with more pancakes while watching Annie out of the corner of my eye. “I can never read women.”
“Beats me. Maybe books?” Ryan says. “Boxer?”
“Not a chance.” Boxer shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m gonna go eat.”
Boxer strides to a seat at the team table, leaving me alone with Ryan Pierce. Ryan is the team captain of the Minnesota Stars and, though we’ve had our fair share of disagreements, we’re forced to be civil over the fundraiser breakfast this morning. Annie’s grandmother has roped all three of us back here to the buffet table, and each of us is too afraid of her to argue.
So here I am stuck with Ryan, piling more pancakes onto our plates while trying to decipher what Andi Peretti—fiancé to Ryan Pierce—is discussing with Annie. The man’s obviously got some skill with women because he’s managed to snag Andi Peretti. I’ve very briefly met her before, and she seems like a good egg. Second best, of course, to Annie.
I watch the women for a few seconds more, but I can’t read either of their lips. Instead, I sneak a glance at Annie’s grandmother and, to my surprise, she’s turned with her back to us. I take the opportunity to dump a few of the pancakes into the trash can.
“Nice,” Ryan says, and does the same.
This is probably the most we’ve ever talked. Ryan is the poster boy for a Minnesota good guy. I’m completely straight, and even I can admit the guy’s got looks. He has that wholesome vibe the internet has fallen in love with, and even Coach can’t seem to find anything wrong with him.
Now, on top of everything, he has the girl, too. Andi’s without a doubt a great match for him—funny, smart, beautiful, and very cool.