Page 16 of Romancing My Grumpy Goalie

She shrugs. “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

“Nolan, grab your backpack. We need to get you home for dinner.”

“Maybe you can get Mr. Grumpy to take the two of you out,” Aubrey suggests.

He grunts in response, eyes dark and broody, like he doesn’t appreciate the joke.

“I already have food waiting for us in the crockpot.” I smile brightly at him. “Maybe some other time.” Or never. Even if I were interested in pursuing something with Lucas, it would be a terrible idea. He’s my son’s mentor. What if we went on a few dates and didn’t work out? That would put Nolan in a terrible position.

Aubrey and Lucas blessedly leave soon after, and I close down the shop for the night. As we head out to the car after locking up, Nolan turns to me.

“If you did want to go on a date with Lucas, I wouldn’t mind.”

Great. Now we’re back to my favorite subject. “You don’t need to worry about that, buddy. I don’t think I’ll be dating anyone anytime soon.” We climb into the car, and I crank up the engine.

“Why not? Don’t you deserve your happily ever after?” Nolan asks.

I pull out of my parking spot and head toward home. “I have it already. You bring me all the joy I need, and I have my own self-love.”

“You say you’re happy, but I don’t think you are.”

Ouch. Am I really unhappy? “The only thing you need to think about is getting your homework done and getting a healthy dinner in your tummy.”

Nolan sighs like this is annoying to him. “You always say that.”

It’s true. He’s always trying to dig into adult subjects. The boy is mature for his age, and he’s already had to deal with deeper issues than he should. Having parents split, with one moving across the country, will do that to you.

We pull up to our brick mid-century home on a side street right off Main Street in Maple Creek. My tulips and daffodils have started popping up in my front flower bed, and my azaleas are set to bloom within the next month.

“Guess what I found?” I say in an attempt to distract him. “A new Star Wars crochet pattern. This one is for BB8.”

“Cool! Are you going to make it for me?” He knows he gets the first version of a new pattern I’m trying before the subsequent ones make it to the store.

We climb out of the car and head into the house. As soon as we open the front door, we’re met with the smell of meat and potatoes cooking.

“Did you make roast again?” Nolan asks.

I ruffle his hair. “Yep. Go put your cleats away and hop in the shower so you’re clean for dinner.”

“Oh, come on, Mom. I hate showers. Dad wouldn’t make me!” he protests.

But his dad isn’t here, is he? “Don’t talk back to me and obey what I tell you, or you’ll get yourself some extra chores.” I learned my lesson a long time ago—if he doesn’t shower after soccer, I’ll have to eat dinner next to his stench. Boy moms deserve medals for what we endure. And it’ll only get worse. He already has to wear deodorant. My boy is growing up more every day, and his dad is missing all of it.

While he showers, I set the table and shoot a message to Lauren about trimming and refreshing my balayage. I’ve been reading up on self-love, and experts agree that pampering myself is a good way to increase it. Because if I need anything after that divorce, it’s a little pampering.

Nolan still isn’t out of the shower, so I put together some brownies and pop them in the oven. After the day I’ve had, I need some chocolate. And I use my healthy recipe with black beans so they’re a bit more guilt free.

Nolan comes out in a Darth Vader shirt and sweatpants. The kid is Star Wars obsessed and has his entire room covered in Star Wars décor, from the bedding to the posters on the wall to the shelves lined with books, games, and figurines from the franchise. Not to mention the collection of stuffies I crocheted for him. The third bedroom of our house has my yarn collection on one side and my desk on the other.

Nolan and I dish up our plates. Instead of slicing the roast, I allowed it to fall apart in the slow cooker, which is my favorite way to do it. That way, we can fish out chunks of meat.

I chew my food, savoring the comfort of it after a long day. Is there some truth to Nolan’s words? Am I actually unhappy? And is there a vibe between Lucas and me?

I’m not exactly sure I mind the idea, if I’m being honest with myself.

SIX

LUCAS

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