Page 36 of Miami Ice

Perfect.

I reach the table, and Sofia is eating while Aaron cuts up meat for the twins. I smile. Just from what I’ve witnessed tonight, I can tell he is a true co-parent. He helps with the girls, which is something my dad didn’t like to do. He liked to have fun with us, yes. But parenting? He dumped a lot of that on to my mom.

I definitely want to find a man who will co-parent. My husband won’t just show up for the good times, but help parent when things aren’t easy.

I put my plate down and smile at Sofia and Aaron. “That buffet is incredible. It’s going to take all my willpower not to go back for dessert.”

“Oh, you should,” she enthuses. “The desserts here are delicious.”

I glance down at the big piece of ham on my plate and think it would be terrible not to at least try a dessert. I mean, how many games will I be going to during the next month? A handful. I’ll never be at this level again.

“You might have convinced me,” I say. I retrieve my phone before hanging my tote on the back of my chair and glancedown at the screen. Once again, my pulse quickens when I see Beckham has replied:

I take it back. Your nutcrackers aren’t maniacal. You are.

I smile. Another text follows that one:

Fine, we play by your rules, Cupcake. I know the timeout I’ve been placed in. We’ll do something more your speed. I’m bored going straight back to my hotel room every night and I could use a change of scenery.

Ah. So that’s why I got the invite. Well, it makes sense, right? He barely knows his teammates, and for all I know, a lot of them have significant others to go home to.

So that fuzzy, tingly feeling in my stomach? It was stupid to have that response in the first place. I text him back:

I know a place that’s open late night that has killer shakes.

Then I hit send and resume eating. This ham is way better than the dried-out stuff my mom throws down on the Thanksgiving buffet. This is delicious. I’m about to take another bite when my phone buzzes again.

Beckham has answered:

Cupcake, is it 1955? You want to go out for SHAKES?

I can’t help it. Laughter escapes my lips, and both Aaron and Sofia look at me.

“Sorry,” I say, blotting my lips with a napkin. “Beckham just sent me the funniest text.”

I don’t miss the look exchanged between them.

“No, it’s no big deal,” I explain. “We’re going to hang out after the game. I told him I would go get a shake with him and he finds that very strange.”

Aaron snorts. “I bet.”

Buzz!

Fine. Your terms. We’ll get a shake.

I grin and reply:

Just to be clear, these aren’t boozy shakes, Grumpy.

Beckham is typing …

Please, I know I’m going out with the Sugar Plum Fairy. I’ll brace myself for an implosion of sugar and sprinkles.

I giggle at that and put my phone down—and try to avoid the curious stares of Sofia and Aaron.

“Is he going to do that?” she finally asks.

I nod as I finish another bite of my dinner. “Yep. I told him these aren’t boozy shakes, so he shouldn’t get his hopes up, and he called me the Sugar Plum Fairy and said he understood.”

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