Page 71 of Foster

“You’re definitely not a baby,” she says softly, lifting to stare down at me. “But you are sick, so you are staying on the couch and resting today.”

Yeah… I’m fucking sick, which is something that doesn’t happen to me often. I started feeling a little run-down on Wednesday, but we had a hectic game schedule this week and I powered through it.

I actually tried to ignore the signs—sore throat, stuffy nose, cough and eventually a slight fever. It was the fever that kept me from dressing for last night’s game and today I’m on the mend for sure. But the cough bothers me the most and it’s why Mazzy keeps pouring that nasty-ass syrup down my throat.

She’s been a godsend though because she’s stayed all week at our house, refusing to take her days off when I was home because I wasn’t feeling well. Mazzy not only did her regular care of Bowie Jane, but she’s taken such good care of me that it makes me want to stay sick just to have her attention. Outside of my own mother when I was little, I’ve never had someone worry over me. If she wasn’t checking my temperature, making homemade chicken noodle soup, fluffing my pillows or plying me with Gatorade, she was ordering me to rest and catering to my every need.

I’d like to say it was cute as fuck, but it wasn’t. It was absolutely endearing. It was the purest form of Mazzy’s being—the nurturer—and it’s the main reason I’ve fallen for her.

I want to fight her on letting me off the couch today because we had plans to spend the day together. I’ve been eager for the three of us to do something outside of Mazzy’s role as the nanny. I want Bowie Jane to see her in the capacity of my girlfriend. I want my daughter to see me have a healthy, solid relationship.

“How about we compromise?” I drawl, taking Mazzy’s hand in mine and glancing down the couch at Bowie Jane who watches with interest. “I’ll nap for a few hours and then we go ice skating.”

Before Mazzy can shoot me down, Bowie Jane pipes up, “I agree with Mazzy. You need to rest to get better. We can go ice skating any time.”

“But you’re going to be starting hockey soon. You need to practice,” I point out.

Bowie Jane levels me with that look that says, Are you serious? “Dad… I’ve been skating for like seven years. I think I’m good.”

I really did want to get her on the ice. It’s true she’s been skating almost as long as she’s known how to run, but her desire to sign up for a local co-ed youth hockey team inspired by Drake enrolling his boys is bringing out a bit of the competitive dad in me.

On top of that, Drake is also recruiting teammates to be advisors to the different coaches because this isn’t a high-level, competition league but rather one created for disadvantaged youths who want to learn the sport. They’re enlisting parents who don’t know much about hockey to be coaches, so I thought it would be fun to help mentor Bowie Jane’s team. I know King and North have already committed to help out.

Nudging Bowie Jane’s leg with my foot from underneath the mountain of blankets, I say, “I just wanted the three of us to do something together today.”

Christ, that sounded whiny.

“We are doing something together,” Mazzy says with a wicked grin. “Bowie Jane and I are taking care of you.”

“Something fun,” I amend with an eye roll that will never be as good as Mazzy’s.

“This is totally fun,” she quips, turning to pick up an empty mug that once held the lemon and honey tea she made for my sore throat. “I like bossing you around for a change.”

Bowie Jane and I exchange a grin as Mazzy walks into the kitchen. She’s behind me so I can’t see what she’s doing but I hear her rattling around with the dishes. Instead, I focus on my daughter at the opposite end of the couch, sitting with her legs crisscrossed and her back against the armrest.

“Sorry you’re stuck here inside with me today,” I say.

Bowie Jane shrugs. “I don’t mind. I like hanging out with you. Plus, Mazzy and I have something planned that will be fun.”

I give her the side eye. “Does it involve putting makeup on me and painting my nails, because if so… I’m going to take a hard pass.”

Laughing, my daughter shakes her head. “It’s something we’ve been working on together the past few weeks and we figured today would be a good time to show you.”

“When did you decide that since we were supposed to go ice skating?”

“When you were napping,” she says. “We made plans while you snored.”

Mazzy returns from the kitchen with another cup of tea and a large tumbler full of Gatorade. Setting them on the flat tray perched on one of the soft ottomans, she pulls it closer to me. “Be a good boy and drink,” she says and starts to turn away.

My hand latches onto her wrist and she looks back at me. “Only if you give me a kiss.”

Mazzy’s eyes dart over to Bowie Jane and back to me, because this isn’t asking for a sweet kiss to the cheek or forehead. She can tell by my tone that I’m asking for a kiss on the mouth, and that’s not something we’ve done in front of Bowie Jane yet. I risk a glance over at my kid, and she’s staring at Mazzy with interest. I know one thing is for sure—my daughter very much enjoys the playful banter I always have going with Mazzy, which has become more personal as we grow closer.

Things definitely changed after me and my teammates saw her perform a week ago. I outed myself to them by kissing her and made it clear I have deep feelings by a nasty display of jealousy, which Mazzy herself witnessed. In a very short time, it was declared that I’m in a relationship with a woman I’m crazy about, and most importantly, Mazzy echoed those sentiments back to me.

She did that not only in her willingness to set boundaries with Leo, but she spoke those things from her heart that night as we sat up in the living room talking. Bowie Jane was upstairs sound asleep where she’d been since we arrived home and relieved the babysitter.

We’re navigating how to have a complete relationship around a ten-year-old. While it’s one thing for Bowie Jane to know that Mazzy and I are dating, she doesn’t need to know that we’re intimate. And it’s not because she can’t handle that, because I know she can, but rather I want to be able to have a very serious conversation with her about the care that’s needed to take that step with a person. The level of commitment required. It has to be a teaching opportunity for her that she can pull on when she enters into her own intimate relationships.

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