Page 30 of Blue Line

“Shit,” I mutter, staring down at the ring. “It’s beautiful.” I peer up at him. “Are you sure?”

He gulps and nods before spinning on his heel and going back to making my breakfast.

“Okay,” I concede, because it seems as though it means a lot to him that I wear it. I don’t know why. I would have thought he’d want to lock it away in a safe until he finds the woman he wants to marry for real, but who am I to question it? “If it’s what you want.”

He glances at me over his shoulder as he cooks my omelet. “It is. Toast?” He holds up a loaf of bread.

“Please.”

He pops two slices in the toaster before turning the stove off and plating my omelet.

“Will you tell me about your mom? And your dad?” I ask when he sets my breakfast in front of me, along with the butter and utensils.

I know his parents died a few years ago, and he’s an only child, but other than that I’m clueless about his family.

He tilts his head, studying me, and I break eye contact to take a bite of my eggs, wondering if maybe I crossed a line. If it’s still too soon for him to talk about it—about them.

“She and my dad met in college. She was dating his roommate.” He lets out a bark of laughter. “She told me that when she met Dad, she knew he was the one, so she broke up with her boyfriend. According to my dad, he was oblivious to the whole thing until his roommate came in one day, yelling and cursing at him. The roommate moved out the next week, and Mom and Dad started dating.”

“Sounds like something out of a romance novel.”

“A nineties or early two thousands rom-com if you ask me. Anyway, they got married right after college, even though their parents thought it was a mistake. She was a teacher, and he was an engineer. They moved to Anchorage a few years later because Dad got a job there.” He clears his throat. “They had a lot of trouble getting pregnant before they had me. Even gave up trying to have kids and adopted retired sledding dogs. They always called me their miracle child because they were in their early forties when I was born.”

He pauses, a faraway look on his face. I have the urge to get up and hug him, offer him some comfort. I can’t imagine what he must feel missing them. But before I can, he’s speaking again.

“Mom loved to ice skate. My earliest memory is of her holding me as she skated on the rink my dad built for her outside our house. I was skating as soon as I could walk. I took figure skating lessons for a while. Did you know that?”

“Nope.” I shake my head. “I always wondered why you were so graceful on the ice. Now I know.”

And the gifts keep on giving. First the glasses. Now the figure skating. Wonder if he can still do turns, flips, whatever they’re called.

“And no, don’t ask me to do a double Axel because I couldn’t do it then, and I most definitely can’t do it now. I’m not about to break an ankle trying.” I giggle, picturing him attempting it, and he continues talking. “I had a happy childhood. Even though I didn’t have any siblings, it always felt like our family was complete, and I was never lonely. Probably because I started playing hockey young and was always surrounded by teammates.”

I pick up my toast and take a bite, staying silent.

“They were so proud when I made the NHL. I’d fly them in to see games. I offered to move them to Florida so they could be closer to me, but they didn’t want to leave the cabin.” He swallows. “It was rough having them so far away. I went to see them as often as I could. Uncle Rob, my dad’s best friend, was there too, which is why I think they wanted to stay. At least they let me hire someone to help them cook and clean and take care of the property. Not that it mattered in the end.”

“What happened?” I ask quietly.

He’s quiet for a few moments, tracing a pattern on the table.

“Dad fell on black ice going out to get more wood one evening, and Mom died not even a year later, probably of heartbreak.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, reaching over and laying my hand on top of his.

He gives me a small, sad smile, and when he speaks again, his voice is full of emotion. “That’s life, unfortunately.” I squeeze his hand, and he reaches over and runs his finger over the stone on my ring. “They would have liked you.”

“I’m sure I would have liked them too.”

We sit in silence for a while before he clears his throat and pulls his hand away. I let him go even though I don’t want to.

“A few years before he died, my dad told me he was adopted. I’ve been trying to find out if I have any biological family that I don’t know about.”

“Oh?” I take another bite of my eggs. He really does know how to make a tasty omelet.

“He met his biological mom once. But she didn’t have any other relatives. The whole single-child thing must run in the family. She didn’t know much about his bio dad except for his name.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Dad found his father’s death certificate, but no obituary or anything. I did one of those DNA things earlier this year, but haven’t gotten any matches yet.”

“I’m sorry.” I’m not sure if that’s the appropriate thing to say, but it’s the best I can come up with.