Page 24 of Playoffs & Promises

"It looks like things are turning around." I tell her in my doggy voice, it's the same voice I use when I talk to my baby niece. "Yes they are. Yes they are."

Unable to stop grinning, I give her a treat which she immediately takes to her dog bed to eat.

With her occupied, I take a quick shower before getting dressed in my best suit, it's a dark blue and my favorite for game days. I don't want to ruin the start of a good thing by being a slob. I comb my hair and even put some of the gel Hannah mailed me for Christmas in it. Then I make sure to run through the appropriate toiletries for the evening. Deodorant check, toothpaste check, mouthwash double check. Last but not least I pull out the cologne I only use for special occasions and put some on.

I feel as nervous as I did going to prom as I stumble putting in the silver cufflinks. I'm almost done getting dressed when there's a knock at the door. Taking my shoes and jacket with me, I set them on my coffee table near the couch to answer the door.

Maria stands outside.

"Come on in. I just need to put my shoes on and then we can go." I move to the side so she can enter and after she's in I close the door.

I quickly go to my couch so I can get my shoes on. I've just finished tying them and look up to see Maria's now moved to the end of the couch to look at the pictures of my family hanging on the wall.

"Ready to go?" I ask.

She turns and smiles, but there's a nervous edge to it. She looks down and I follow her gaze to see a small plastic container in her hands. Not a bakery to-go container, but a home kitchen leftover type of container, with a red lid I can't see through.

Curious, I ask, "What's that?"

"A peace offering?" She says, but it sounds more like a question.

I look around me to see if I can give her something, but come up empty. "I don't have anything to offer in return."

"You let me play with your dog, and you're giving me a ride, and helping me pick up the cake. It's fine."

She holds out the peace offering and I take it from her. I pull off the red lid to look inside and see the familiar sprinkle of powdered sugar on top of a yellow square.

"My lemon bar!" I say excitedly.

She made a lemon bar just for me. Not for a long line of customers willing to pay.

I set the container on the coffee table, careful to make sure it's far enough from the edge it won't fall off. Then I put the lid down next to it. I stare at it, afraid to blink in case it disappears. But it's still there, it's still real.

In a burst of pure unfiltered joy I stand up and swoop her up into my arms to twirl her. An honest to Stanley Cup twirl around my living room.

Maria laughs, and oh the sound of it is light and carefree. It's better than a cold drink on a blistering summer day. Her laughter, just like her, is absolutely stunning. In this moment I'm struck by how light and free her laugh also makes me feel, and I want to hear it every day. The suddenness of the thought sends a shock through me, and I slow down to a stop, before gently lowering her down to her feet.

We look at each other, her eyes bright with laughter, and I carefully brush some of her hair away from her face. The moment is thick with a feeling I don't dare examine too closely.

I'm too focused on the moment, I don't think to pay attention to Cinnamon. Then out of the corner of my eye I see it. Across the coffee table, Cinnamon zeros in on Maria. Her excitement ramping up to an all-time high as her tail wiggles furiously. Too impatient to walk around the table, she moves to leap over it.

In what feels like an agonizingly slow moment I see her paws fly through the air and send the lemon bar container flying. My body freezes as I watch the container spin before it goes tumbling off the edge. My brain screams at me to move, to save it, but I'm frozen as it flips upside down. Powerless as I watch in absolute horror as that perfect, sugar-dusted square of good luck goodness, falls free of the container and splats on my hardwood floor.

Maria gasps, even as she tries to calm the dog excitedly wiggling beside her.

"Oh Lou," She says.

I shake my head. "Don't let Cinnamon eat it. I don't want her to get sick."

Then I have to walk away. I have to take a moment as I gather the stuff to clean it up. All the while I contemplate if a splattered lemon bar would still bring me good luck.

After the lemon bar is cleaned up, and the cake is picked up, Maria and I arrive at the Serenity Bay Resort where Nate and Lia have booked a space for the engagement party. The oceanfront resort is as fancy as the name suggests. Tall ceilings stretch high above us, held up with gleaming white pillars. Massive windows line one wall framing the ocean. The waves are visible beyond the glass, as is the strip of beach in front of the resort.

Maria's eyes lock onto the table designated for the cake and without a word, she directs me towards it. I carry the cake box over and place it exactly where she points, then back away to give her space to do her baker magic. She's completely in her element as she begins unboxing, positioning, and checking the frosting with the kind of precision and attention to detail that come from experience and skill. I'm awed by how graceful she is when she's doing what she loves.

Lia and Nate soon join us, they're the perfect engaged couple complete with outfits in a matching creme color. They're all smiles, moving in sync. Lia's hand brushing his arm, his head tilting toward hers as she looks up at him. Their body language is so perfectly matched with each other. There's a comfortability between them that speaks volumes of their deep understanding of each other. While Lia is gushing over the cake, in a very excited voice, to Maria, Nate gives me a look. The one that says he has questions and I'm going to answer them here or on the ice.

"Drink?" he asks, his tone too casual.

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