Page 8 of Romancing My Grumpy Goalie

“Wow, a smile from the grump. Look what Anabelle does to you.”

My smile disappears. I know for a fact she doesn’t do a thing to me. Well. Not that I’ll admit to him anyway.

“The fact that you’re trying to deflect the teasing onto me is proof of it.” He looks at me triumphantly, like he’s just proven some huge point.

“Okay, Dr. Phil.” The truth is, I can’t get this woman out of my mind. Especially seeing her dressed up for an evening out.

THREE

ANABELLE

After gettingcoffee at Josie’s, I walk past Layla’s flower shop and peer in the window at the gorgeous arrangements using spring flowers like dogwood and tulips. Those bright pink tulips might cheer up the store. I shake my head and continue walking to my car. I really ought to save money.

I drive over to the shop and open the door with one hand—and my coffee in the other. Early morning light filters through the windows and pours onto the floor. After such a gray, cold winter, I’m ready to bask in the patch of sunlight that’s made its way into my boutique.

Eliza is already there, behind the register, munching on a donut, her dark hair up in a ponytail with a long bow clipped in it. She has this cute girly style I could never pull off. “Hey, boss lady.”

“You’re here early,” I say.

She shrugs and swallows her mouthful. “I couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d come help out, get the shop organized a bit.”

“That’s always appreciated.” I turn to my Echo Dot. “Alexa, play calming pop music.” She complies, and my mood picks up immediately as the tension in my shoulders melts with the music. I go back into my office and pull out my laptop so I cancontinue working on the financials. At least I have coffee if I have to deal with this unpleasant activity.

A few customers come in and out, and Eliza takes care of them. An hour into my work, my phone’s ringtone sounds. It’s a number I don’t recognize, but I answer it anyway.

“Is this the mother of Nolan Lackey?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Wonderful!” a man says. “My name is Milo O’Donnell, and I’m with the Play It Forward organization. It’s great to meet you and greet you! I’m calling to let you know that Nolan has been chosen for our big brother/big sister mentorship!”

I can’t help but smile at his quirky enthusiasm. “That’s great!” I stand from my chair and pace the store. Nolan needs this so much. We’ve needed good news like this for a long time.

“We’re still waiting to hear back from his mentor before we can reveal who it is, but I wanted to reach out and let you know he’s been chosen and introduce myself to you.”

“When do you think they’ll get started?” I ask.

“Within the next week or so, depending on how long it takes to match him. I have a few options available. I’ll be emailing you, so be sure to check your inbox.”

My heart is so full of the knowledge that my boy will have this kind of mentorship.

I head out the door with my backpack and purse and go over to my mom’s to pick up Nolan. She is his ride home from school, and she helps him with his homework. I head down Main Street, past Hadley’s, my favorite restaurant, and All Dolled Up, wheremy friend Lauren does my hair. I’m due for a touch up on my roots soon. Getting my hair done is a big part of my self-care routine. Ever since the divorce, taking care of me has helped me stay afloat.

I turn onto Elm Street and drive down the tree-lined road full of older, well-loved homes surrounded by yellow-blossomed bushes and tulips and daffodils in flowerbeds. Spring in Maple Creek is glorious. I pull up to my parents’ home, a gray house with white trim and a giant porch lined with rocking chairs and a hanging swing. I get out and walk inside. “Mom? Nolan?”

Nolan comes running. “Hey, Mom! Gran made brownies!”

“Right before dinner?”

Mom comes into the room wearing a blue apron with yellow daffodils. “He still promises to eat all his dinner.” Her graying blonde hair is cut short and fluffed up in the stereotypical Southern mama hairdo.

“You’d better because you have soccer practice, and you need your energy.” I grin, remembering his big news. “Speaking of soccer, guess what? You got the mentorship with Play It Forward!”

Nolan’s eyes get huge, and he jumps up and down. “Yay! Yay! Yay!” He bounces all over the house like a ping-pong ball in a championship match.

I laugh and turn to my mom. “He’s only a little excited.”

“That boy’s been needing this. His dad got him all into the sport and then took off and left him hanging.” She shakes her head.

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