Page 17 of Power Forward

“You silly, Daddy,” Isabela giggles around a yawn.

“I was close to calling a friend to help me out.”

“Who’s that?” Ryan asks innocently.

“The tickle monster!” I hold both hands up, splaying my fingers wide and tickling them both around the ribs. They burst into fits of giggles, and by the time I let up, my cheeks ache from my own wide grin.

“So what do you wanna do today?” I ask, settling back against the headboard.

“Let’s make a cake!” Isabela shouts excitedly. “Lots of cupcakes. With sprinkles.”

I laugh. “I mean, we can try. I don’t know how well it’ll turn out.”

“It’ll be fun!” Ryan chirps. “Can I do the eggs?”

“And me!” Isabela insists.

I don’t think giving an egg to a four-year-old to break isthe best idea, but what’s a bit of mess in the name of having fun?

“Sure. Okay. We’ll need to go to the store first and get all the ingredients. But…” I trail off, grinning. “We do have ingredients to make blueberry pancakes. Who wants blueberry pancakes for breakfast?”

“Me!” they both shout in unison, then race each other down the stairs.

The kids help me with the pancake mix, and by helping, I mean throwing the blueberries and flour into the bowl with a flourish. Once we’ve eaten, washed, and dressed, we head to the store to pick up the cupcake ingredients with the help of a quick text from Jacob.

Jacob

Oh, wow! Good job for not going for a box mix, I’m proud of you ;)

Okay so, you’ll need unsalted butter, eggs, flour, sugar, baking powder, and vanilla extract. For the frosting, you’ll need the same butter as the sponge mix, but also confectionary sugar. Call me if you get stuck and I can talk you through it. Good luck! Send me pics!

Ah, the perks of being friends with a bakery owner.

“Are you ready for this?” I ask them once we get home. I’ve just finished measuring everything out and placing them in individual bowls.

“They’re gonna be so awesome, Dad.” Ryan beams up at me.

I love how much confidence he has in me.

“Let’s hope so, bud. So, first, we need to put in the butter and sugar.”

I hand them a bowl each to pour into the main mixing bowl, and my phone vibrates on the counter with a new text message. I pick it up, and my chest does a weird spasm when I see Hayden’s name on the screen.

“Who’s that, Daddy?” Isabela asks, stretching where she’s standing on the chair to look at my phone.

“One of my friends. Hayden. We played hockey together a long time ago.”

The word tastes bitter on my tongue. I’ve never referred to Hayden as a friend. Even years ago, when we were hiding our relationship, I never once called him my “friend.” It was always teammate or linemate because for some reason, those words didn’t feel as devaluing to our relationship asfriend.

I check the time and see it’s 9:00 a.m. in LA, meaning it’ll be one of his morning photos.

Every morning, he sends photos of his view of the ocean from his back porch and tells me to have a good day, along with a random fact about jellyfish. I don’t know where this interest in jellyfish has come from because I can’t recall him ever being interested in them while we were together.

He’s also started to randomly send me a coffee and some variation of baked goods for the kids via DoorDash. Because they don’t know him, they call him the cake fairy, and their sheer excitement every time there’s a knock at the door tugs on my heart more than I’d like to admit.

I hold my breath as I click on the message and open the text thread.

Hayden

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