Page 29 of The Overtime Kiss

“What’s stopping us? We can do it together.”

“I don’t know. I mean, I guess, if you want to.”

“Of course I want to. Why wouldn’t I?”

He flips over again, facing away. “But I don’t know if the new nanny is going to want to.”

I ruffle his hair once more. “I bet she’ll be really happy to help put more stars on the ceiling.”

“Maybe,” he says, picking at the edge of his midnight-blue blanket, the color of the night sky.

I drop a kiss on his forehead. “We’ll get more constellations up there. Asterisms too. I promise.”

“Okay, Dad,” he says, his eyes drifting closed.

“Maybe even asteroids,” I add.

He laughs. “We’ll see.”

But as I leave, he sighs again, and my heart squeezes.

The thing they don’t tell you about parenting? Your heart aches every time your kid’s does.

If I thought my immediate family was bad, they’re nothing compared to my hockey fam. Specifically, my single dad friends.

We’re all at the gym on Fillmore Street early the next morning, squeezing in a workout on an off day. I’ve dropped Luna and Parker at school already, assuring Parker we’d be picking up star stickers this coming weekend. Even though he has to wait all week, he seemed happy enough about that. His sister, a busy bee and social butterfly, raced off into the building with a quick goodbye.

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Rowan Bishop says, leaning against the pull-up bar with his signature scowl. “Later today, the woman you’ve been crushing on is actually going to be moving in with you?”

I pull down on the fly machine, my grip tightening with every word. “Yes.”

Nearby, Corbin—the Golden State Foxes’ forward and part-time shit stirrer—is on the leg press. His loud laugh echoes across our corner of the gym. “This is the woman you were brooding about when we played golf back in June?”

Fuuuck. The man has a steel-trap memory. I did say something that morning, but nothing specific.Why does this guy remember everything I want to forget?

“I wasn’t brooding,” I mutter. “I just mentioned I ran into someone at the hotel.”

“That’s true,” Corbin says, grinning like he’s about to bury me. “You also said nothing happened with her.”

“Yes,” I grit out, pulling the bar down harder.

“And that it was a shame nothing happened,” he adds, as Rowan grabs a pair of heavy dumbbells.

“Yes,” I say, sharper this time.

“You seem awfully…taciturn,” Rowan cuts in. The guy loves his word-a-day app.

Corbin leans forward on the leg press, his grin widening. “Do you want to go back in time and repeat the day?”

“Just the part where I whipped your ass at golf,” I shoot back.

Corbin laughs, not missing a beat or a rep. “Highly satisfying, huh? We’ll circle back to that later. For now, I want to hear more about this ‘foot-in-mouth’ move you made by inviting the ‘nothing happened’ woman to be your nanny.”

These guys.

“My mom did it,” I snap, but it only makes them laugh harder.

“When in doubt, blame your mom.” Rowan smirks as he alternates arms with his hammer curls. “You can tell us,” he says in a conspiratorial whisper. “You auditioning her as wife material?”

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