Drew tucked the card into his shirt pocket. “Okay, I’ll see.”
He should be able to figure this out by himself, for Chrissakes.
He and Dougie talked more about Dougie’s kids and then about hockey, of course, and the start of the season in about ten days.
“Well, better get home,” Dougie eventually said, signaling for the check.
“I’ll get it,” Drew said.
“I got it.” Dougie insisted on buying.
“You going to Red’s party next weekend on his yacht? He said he invited you.” One of his former teammates was hosting a “start of the season” party. Drew had been surprised to be invited and not sure if he should go.
“Yeah! We got an overnight babysitter. Lisa’s pretty excited about it.”
“Great. Probably see you then.”
—
There were eight kids at the birthday party, including Chloe—three boys and four other girls. Drew eyed the boys suspiciously when they arrived, but they were just kids, goofing around, having fun playing all these videogames in the big tricked-out RV parked in front of the house. Drew was actually a little envious because, wow, they had a lot of cool games. With four forty-six-inch high-def TVs, customized built-in vibration motors that were synced to the on-screen action, and stereo surround sound, whoa, this was so freakin’ awesome.
What the hell. He wanted to play, too. So he joined the kids.
He’d helped Peyton shop yesterday for food after she’d agonized over what they should serve the kids. They’d picked up mega junk food—hot dogs, salads, and of course the required cake, a two-layer white cake with thick frosting and bright-colored sprinkles.
“Are you playing, Mr. Sellers?” Jason asked, eyes wide.
“Are you kidding? You think I’m going to miss out on this sweet party on wheels?”
Jason grinned and another dude—Tyler?—gave him a fist bump.
Drew got into the multiplayer game happening. His competitive nature surfaced and he became determined to kick tweenage butt.
They gave him some stiff competition, but at one point he scored major points. He thrust his fist into the air and yelled like he’d just scored the winning goal in game seven of the Stanley Cup final. Luckily the kids just thought it was cool that an adult was playing with them.
Eventually he bowed out and left them to their gaming. He loved seeing Chloe with her friends, laughing and teasing and having fun. They all seemed like good kids. Even the boys.
He joined Peyton in the kitchen where she was getting the wieners ready to grill. “Want me to cook those?” he offered.
“I can do it.”
“Grilling is manly work.”
She snorted, but a smile played on her mouth as she sliced hot dog buns. “Okay, if you feel a need to demonstrate your masculinity, be my guest.”
“Chloe’s having fun.” Drew slid the wieners onto a big plate.
“That’s good. This was a good idea—no noise or fuss in the house to disturb Sara.”
“Until they all come in to eat.”
“It’ll be fine. Sara’s having a good day. She wants to come sit out here when they’re eating dinner.”
“That’d be great.” Without being asked, he opened the fridge and pulled out mustard, ketchup, and relish and set the bottles on the island. The dining table had already been set with colorful paper plates, cups, and plastic cutlery. “Is this hard for her?”
“Yeah.” Peyton kept her gaze on the buns. “She knows this will be the last birthday she’ll have with Chloe. She’s with it enough today to realize that and it’s making her sad.”
“Fuck,” he muttered, shaking his head.