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“I’m fine, Dad, just a lot on my plate with the gala and finals coming up.” She pats his arm, and he releases her.
“Do you need me to take anything off your plate? I can order my own groceries and handle my laundry when I get back from away games,” he offers.
“I do your groceries when I do my own, so it’s not a big deal. And we both know how you are about laundry.” She slides back into the booth. She’s already ordered for us—probably as eager as I am to get this meal over with. But I’m not sure our reasons are the same. All the things I love about our diner tradition are now a reminder of the lies I’m steeped in.
“I could get better at it.” He frowns. “I should get better at it. You can’t do my laundry forever. I could get a housekeeper.”
I drop onto the bench across from Aurora, as does Roman. Her gaze shifts my way, and she smiles like it’s any other day, like we don’t have plans to go back to her place after this.
“Or you could start dating,” Aurora says cheekily.
Roman rolls his eyes. “Stop sending me apps.”
She sips her coffee and shifts gears. “You really kicked some butt this week. Two solid wins, and against high-ranking teams. How are you feeling about the game against LA on Monday?”
While they talk game strategy, I try desperately not to think about all her messages from the past few days.
Princess
I’m rearranging my dresser so my mirror catches the bed, in case you want to watch yourself fuck me.
I should probably be on top for the sake of your knee.
Unless you’re more inclined to fuck me against the front door. I guess we’ll see how far inside the apartment we make it.
Aurora’s foot bumps my shin under the table. I glance at her. We’re not playing footsies again. Her eyes dart to the table. My food is sitting in front of me.
“You’re preoccupied today,” Roman observes.
“I have an appointment with my doctor tomorrow.” It’s true, but not why I’m distracted.
“Do you think you’ll be cleared for practice?” Aurora asks.
“That’s the hope.”
“Have you given any more thought to sportscasting, or are you still considering coaching as an option after you hang up your skates?” Roman asks.
I rub my bottom lip. “I have at least another season before I need to think about that.”
“You’d be great leading a team.” Roman pats me on the back.
“You’d be a great coach,” Aurora agrees. “You’re a patient teacher, and you’re great at giving direct instruction.”
I sure as fuck know she’s not talking about hockey. “I’m not out of the game yet,” I grumble. Roman shifts the topic, probably mistaking the tension for career stress.
We finish our meals and leave the diner. It’s warming up, the snow turning to brown slush.
“I need to grab a couple of things from the grocery store. Either of you need anything?” I ask once we’ve crossed the street.
“Not that I can think of,” Roman says.
“I went shopping yesterday, so I’m good, too,” Aurora replies.
“Okay. I’ll see you later.” They push inside the building, and I make the short trip to the store. I pick up Aurora’s favorite candies and stop at the local florist on the way back.
By the time I return to the building, Aurora’s already messaged to let me know the coast is clear.
My palms start to sweat when I step into the elevator. The line we’re stepping over today will change things again. For half a second, I question whether I should go through with this. But I can’t deny her after all the shit I’ve put her through. It’s about more than how it affects her, though. It’s me, too. I can’t keep sitting on the fence with her. I don’t want to.
