Page 64 of Miami Ice

“I love a good theme,” I say. “Oh! On Connectivity Cork Board, I found a child’s room that was done up like a Candy Land Christmas, and I was so tempted to do it for myself.”

“I don’t know what a Connectivity Cork Board is, but that sounds nauseating.”

“Grumpy.”

“If not wanting a bedroom for a six-year-old makes me grumpy, I’ll proudly wear that as a badge of honor.”

Suddenly there’s a light rap on my door. Beckham and I share a look, as we both know that has to be a very embarrassed Ella knocking.

“We’re both decent, come in,” I tease.

Ella pops open the door. She’s changed into an FSU T-shirt and shorts, and her hair is swept up into a ponytail, but I still see dried bits of whipped cream and sprinkles in it.

“Um, I’m so, so sorry about that,” she says, her face flushing bright red as she speaks. “Erm … we lost track of time and didn’t expect you back so soon and I’m really, really sorry.”

“I’m sorry we walked in on you,” I say. “Consider it forgotten.”

She looks at Beckham, and I can tell she wishes the floor could swallow her up. “Um, hi, obviously I’m Ella. I’m mortified that was our first introduction.”

“What do you mean?Thisis our first introduction. I’ve never seen you before,” Beckham says, winking at her.

My heart flutters at how wonderfully he’s making her feel at ease.

“Bless you,” Ella says, a look of gratitude washing over her face. “Um … you can come out in the living room now and meet my boyfriend, Jordan.”

I nod. Beckham rises, and I get up from my chair, and we follow Ella out to the living room, where an equally embarrassed Jordan appears before us, fully dressed and with no trace of sprinkles in his hair.

He clears his throat. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” Beckham says, extending his hand to Jordan. “Beckham. Nice to meet you.”

They shake hands. “Jordan.”

Somehow, we all manage to make small talk for a few minutes, and then I ask if Beckham would like to take a seat.

“No, I’ve got to get going,” he says. “I’ve got a travel day tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you out,” I say.

Beckham says his goodbyes and I walk him out into the hallway, shutting the apartment door behind me.

“Thank you,” I say as we head toward the elevator. “You made that situation so much easier for Ella and Jordan with the way you handled it.”

“Not a problem. It did change my plans to ask for a hot chocolate, but whatevs.”

“Oh, shut up,” I say.

The elevator chimes, and the doors open. Beckham inclines his head. “My ride is here.”

“Right.”

He steps inside. “I’m sure Sofia will be in touch to coordinate our Thanksgiving schedule between yours and mine.”

My heart deflates. “Of course.”

He nods. “Right.”

Silence.

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