Page 5 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie
She is about to pass me and before I can stop myself, the name slips past my lips.
“Whitney?”
She pauses mid-step, tilts her head up, and turns.
For a split second, recognition flashes in her eyes, quick and sharp. Then, just as fast, it fades into something unreadable. Cool indifference.
“Blake.” Her voice is cool and polite. Like we’re nothing more than old acquaintances crossing paths.
But I barely hear it.
Because she looks good.
I take a second to really look at her. The years haven’t changed her much. She’s still stunning. Even more so, maybe. Her long, dark hair is swept back in a perfect, effortless ponytail, strands of it curling just enough to frame her face. The soft glow of the terminal lights catches her skin, in a way that makes it hard to look away.
She’s wearing a simple fitted blouse, jeans, and a sleek black warmer that clings to her frame, and her makeup is minimal but perfect. She always had that effortless beauty, the kind that doesn’t need to try. The kind of beauty that sneaks up on you, knocks the breath from your lungs before you even realize it. No exaggeration.
I swallow hard, suddenly aware of how out of place I feel at this moment. Clearing my throat, I ask, “How are you doing?”
“Good. Doing good,” she responds, her lips curving into a polite, almost rehearsed smile.
“Wow.” I exhale, running a hand over my jaw. “What are you doing back in town?”
Her gaze flickers past me. “Keith’s wedding.”
Ah. Of course.
“Right.” I nod, stuffing my hands into my pockets. “Good to see you, by the way.”
She tilts her head slightly, studying me for a moment before responding. “You too.”
Silence lingers between us, thick with everything unsaid.
I should leave it at that. Walk away. But curiosity wins.
“How long are you staying?”
“A few weeks.” She shifts her bag on her shoulder, her posture straightening.
I nod slowly.
I wish I could think of something to say. Anything. But nothing comes.
“Well.” She clears her throat, as if pushing herself into motion. “I should go. It was, uh…, good to see you.”
“Yeah,”
She starts to walk past me, heading for the exit. I watch her, and for some reason, I can’t stop looking. I can’t tear my eyes away until she disappears out the door.
“Blake!”
I turn around, and there’s my mom, coming toward me with that signature smile. She wraps her arms around me, and I return the hug tightly.
“There’s my boy.”
“Good flight?” I ask, stepping back to look at her.
“Yeah, yeah, but I missed you.” She leans up to kiss my cheek, the warm pressure lingering.
