Page 101 of Forever Player

“So how do you two know each other?” he asks, moving his index finger between Willow and me.

Oh, hell no. I’m fuming now.

I glare at Willow, waiting for a beat for her to answer. When she doesn’t, I say, “She’s my girlfriend.”

“I didn’t know you were seeing someone.” This asshole has the gall to say with a stupid smile.

Willow grins, giving him an impish smile, and she shrugs her shoulders.

That’s it? No confirmation?

“Well, it was great to meet you,” Silas says to me. “You have yourselves a good evening.”

“You too,” I mutter.

“See you tomorrow,” Willow chimes.

He turns back to his office.

I grit my jaw so hard I think it may snap.

“I’ll go grab my purse and jacket. We can pick Maylee up together,” Willow suggests awkwardly.

I nod because I’m too wound up to speak.

The young woman at the front desk is still staring at me with a wide smile. “Mr. Noble, would you mind signing this? I wish I had a jersey or puck for you to sign but . . .” She pushes a blank page across the counter with a pen.

“Sure.” I use my usual signature. “There you go.”

“Thanks so much. Willow is so lucky to be dating you.” She bats her lashes at me just as Willow returns wearing her coat and holding her flowers and chocolate. “This was such a nice surprise, Brett.”

“Ahum,” I mutter.

I follow her on my crutches but I put some weight on my ankle, which is doing a lot better. We enter the day care.

“Hi, Jodi, this is Maylee’s dad, Brett,” she says, introducing me to the caregiver.

“Nice to meet you,” I say.

“Maylee is such a doll. We love having her.” She smiles.

“Thanks.” My words are too caught up in my emotions right now to actually engage.

Willow goes about collecting Maylee’s things and then she bundles her up in the snowsuit and we leave the day care. We head out to the SUV and Willow gets Maylee settled in her car seat. I get in on the passenger side and place my crutches beside me.

Willow gets in and starts the car.

“Were you in the neighborhood?” she inquires, as if nothing is wrong.

“I went to the arena for therapy,” I explain, not looking at her. “I thought it would be a nice surprise.”

“It is a nice surprise,” she retorts.

“Right,” I snap.

“What is wrong with you?” she says, snapping back.

“Me?”

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