Page 85 of Perfect Playbook

“Well, shewasgood,” I say.

“No, Shay, sheisgood. She’s still alive in everything you do. Sheisgood, Shay, and she’s not even here at all.”

His words still me. He’s right. I see her life in all the best things I do. Her life and influence is in my cakes. Her life is in the way I sing to Nino when I give him a bath. The amazing mom who she was is very much here even though she isn’t.

Logan’s depth never ceases to amaze me, but equally, his words are profound for this time in the morning. Though I’m sure nothing could conquer something as powerful as mom guilt with a few words, I do feel better. Better that he cares enough to listen. Better that he considers words that would actually make a difference to the person that I am instead of telling me to forget about it for the sake of his own comfort.

It’s what I fell in love with. It’s what makes me fall now.

I shake off the depth of that feeling with some humor because I don’t think I can take dreaming about what this all means today. “Do you always give TED talks in the morning?”

I don’t wait for the answer; I get up to head to the shower because Antonio will be home shortly and I need to pack the cakes. I feel Logan’s eyes on the back of my body and wonder if he can see the cellulite in the dawn haze filling the room. My insecurities are drowned out by a high-pitched wolf whistle.

“Mighty fine ass,pastelito.”

His words cheer me up, and I know there’s no way over this but through this, so I let the good things shine on me. I smile to myself, satisfied that Logan likes the view, and give him a little wiggle before entering the bathroom. I peek at my man through the crack in the door until the sliver is all gone, and that’s when all my cool crumbles. My heart races, my knees melt, and my back falls against the door.

He wants me.

And I said yes.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Shay suckeddown her tears while hugging Antonio goodbye this morning, but he didn’t notice a thing. She didn’t wish him luck but rather asked him what he looked forward to most then spoke about that, putting him in an optimistic frame of mind. I watched them intensely. I marvel at the sight of unconditional love. Now, knowing Shay’s feelings of guilt makes her warm, strong embrace of encouragement all the more meaningful to watch. I don’t know how she could ever doubt what a great mom she is, because that child is a testament to her.

Antonio buzzes in the car the entire drive, not aworry in sight. I sit in a café most of the day catching up on emails and give my big brother, Colt, a call to see how the wind farm investment is doing. I should know. But until now, part of me didn’t care. It was where I put my money from the inheritance, but with my hockey salary, I never thought it would matter. Something about it matters now. Building a safe future suddenly feels like a good plan.

When I can’t sit on my ass anymore and it’s nearing pick-up time, I wander the town of Longbrook. It’s quaint and historical, a smaller version of Santa Fe. Crooked streets trace through adobe landmarks, and the people walking around have that artsy tree-hugging look about them. It’s calm, quiet. I feel at ease, and not a single person recognizes me. I hope Nino’s day is the same, but it’s unlikely to be. A five-year-old in sixth grade will certainly stand out more than I do here.

I check my watch, and it reads two-fifteen, so I let my feet carry me to Longbrook campus. The grounds are sprawling, taking up what I guess is at least twenty-five acres, maybe more. I imagine what a tiring task it will be for Nino just to get to and from his classes every day until he gets bigger.

I head into the building where I am set to meet Antonio. I’m a few minutes early, but when I reach the top of the stairs, he’s sitting on a bench with a woman I haven’t met.

Nino notices me right away, pops his little legs off his seat, and comes running up to me. “Logan!”

The only way to stop him from having a collision with my legs is to pull him up into my arms, so I whisk him into a hug. “Hey, bud. Why are you here already?”

The woman he was with comes over. “Hi. I’m Mrs. Hansen. Nino’s mentor.”

“The child psychologist?”

She nods but says, “I prefer being called his mentor.”

I bounce Nino in my arm. “Is everything okay?”

Nino shrugs. “I got tired. But Mrs. Hansen took me to sit on a bench under this really cool tree that’s like a hundred years old, and we just chilled.”

She folds her hands in front of her. “We can ease in, Antonio, take it at your own pace. You lead the way, right?” She speaks to me now. “I discussed getting some lifts in the golf carts with campus security when Antonio has long walks between classes. We have a few cars and golf carts on patrol, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“It’s like you read my mind. I was just thinking how huge the campus is. Thanks for your help.” I gaze into Nino’s eyes, so dark and beautiful, just like his mama’s. “Is that something that would work for you?”

By the look on his face he’d more than like zooming around in the golf carts. “Who wouldn’t like that?” He turns and waves to Mrs. Hansen. “See you next week for chemistry.”

I carry him in my arms out of the building then place him down. He takes my hand as we walk. It’s so small in mine, and him hanging on to me causes a squeezing sensation in my chest. I glance down at him next to me; he’s not nearly as affected by this moment as I am. Nino probably holds hands with people more often than I do. He would have held hands with other students when crossing the road at his old primary school. He has his grandfather and uncles and Shay. Maybe even Mrs. Hansen held his hand today. It’s likely.

But not only do I rarely hold hands, hell, I probably haven’t regularly held someone’s hand since Eve was eleven,twelve, and my niece told me she didn’t need to hold it anymore when crossing the road or really, ever. It was a good thing, my niece feeling independent. But I miss it.

There’s a stone sign on the side of the path, and Nino jumps up on it. His hand grips my palm to give him extra leverage and power in his leap. I help him balance on the rock until he decides to jump off. It’s ordinary kid stuff, a bit of parkour for our walk to the car, but every bit of pressure on my palm pumps a burst of good feelings through my veins. It’s meaningless to Antonio, I’m sure. But this hand in mine? I’m reminded how much I always wanted to be a dad.

---