Page 141 of The Boyfriend Goal

“Mmm. You taste like sugar,” I say.

“Then you must really like my lips.”

“I love them,” I murmur. “And you.”

When I break the kiss, I scan the kitchen and the mess. There are measuring cups, bowls, and flour for miles. “This will take a while to clean up. Why don’t you lie down with a good book and read and I’ll clean?”

She arches a brow. “Are you even real?”

I smile like a cocky fucker. Yep. I know how to take care of my woman. “I am. And you deserve some time to read.” But there’s another reason at play. And since it’s the season for being honest, I say, “And I need to call my dad.”

She sets a hand on my shoulder. “You can do it.”

She’s right. I can. We talked about the things I need to say to him this morning while we were baking.

It’s time. When she leaves the kitchen, I pop in my AirPods, grab a sponge, and gear up. Like when I’m about to hit the ice, I zone in on three things right now—focus, determination, and grit.

I call my dad, and he answers right away. “Hey, son. Good to hear from you. Merry Christmas Eve,” he says.

“Merry Christmas Eve to you too,” I say, and we make small talk about the holiday for a minute but after that I square my shoulders. “Listen…” I begin.

“Okay,” he says with a touch of nerves in his voice.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. My whole life. Getting me tutors and tools for dyslexia, and making sure I could handle my homework and get decent enough grades. And getting me to hockey practice, buying me equipment, and getting me the best coaches. I am beyond grateful.”

“Good. You deserve all that. I’m hearing a but.”

I draw a deep breath. “I’m canceling the meal plan, and the performance coach too. Domingo’s a good guy, but I don’t need him.”

Dad’s quiet for a long beat. That’s rare. Then, he says with genuine curiosity, “Why? They’re so good for you.”

I wipe down more of the sugar on the counter to stay busy. “I eat balanced already. I just don’t want to be obsessed with calories. Sometimes I eat cookies. Like, right now. I made Christmas cookies with my girlfriend.”

“Your girlfriend? So you are with her?” It comes out a little like I knew it, but fact is, he did know it.

“Yep. And she’s not a distraction. She’s incredible. She’s supportive and kind and funny, and she’s taught me to have fun,” I say, then I smile. Can’t help it. Josie makes me feel that way—lighter, easier, more carefree. “Do you know what that’s like? When you meet someone who makes you smile and laugh? It’s better than shooting the winning goal.”

He scoffs lightly. “Well, I’m glad you’re happy but?—”

“You’re a good dad. But you’re too involved as an agent. I’m not firing you, but I am telling you I need you to back off. The way you’re over-involved is honestly a distraction. Just be my dad, and be my agent, but don’t make me your project anymore, okay?”

He sighs. “I only want the best for you, son.”

“And you’ve given me the best.”

He sighs again, this time more heavily, but perhaps it’s directed at himself. “I’ve overstepped,” he says, plainly.

“You have. But it’s nothing we can’t fix. We can…start over.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

He pauses, and I know this isn’t easy for him. Hell, it’s not easy for me. But it is necessary. His voice is tinged with some regret when he says, “I’ve really only ever wanted the best for you. But I hear you. I’ve been pushy. And I’ll try to back down.”

“You can do it,” I say encouragingly, like he’d say to me.

“You’re right. I can do it.” He hesitates, but only to shift gears. “Will you come to Christmas dinner?”

---