Page 64 of Stick Side
Ben:I can’t win here, can I?
Melody:Nope. You might as well just accept my praise like the good sport you are.
Ben:In that case, thank you.
Melody:You’re welcome. :-)
Chapter 31
Melody
Herfather’sofficehadlooked the same for as long as Melody could remember. It didn’t matter which city it was in or which team he was coaching, common fixtures gave it an air of familiarity. The pictures of her and her mom. The jade plant her mom had bought him to bring him luck when he’d gotten his first big coaching break. The Wayne Gretzky paperweight he’d had for heaven knew how long.
His offices even smelled the same. They were a fragrant mixture of paper, coffee, his cologne, and the subtlest hint of musk she could only imagine came from all the sweaty athletes who frequented the space. She wasn’t sure how pleasant anyone else would find the aroma, but she loved it. It was as familiar to her as her earliest memories. It was a smell she associated with her dad, which made it dear to her.
Melody lifted her eyes to her dad as she removed her fingers from the travel brochure she’d been thumbing through.
“Are you sure you don’t mind, honey?” he asked for what felt like the millionth time.
Melody’s sigh was deep and heavy. They’d been over this in detail when he’d first brought up the idea a few weeks ago.
“Dad,” she said seriously, “this is your thirtieth wedding anniversary. Please go and have a great time. Don’t worry about me.”
“But I do worry about you, Melody. Worry becomes part of your DNA the moment you become a parent.”
“Oh, stop. There’s no need to be dramatic, Daddy.”
“Who’s being dramatic?” he replied with raised brows.
You aren’t abandoning me, Dad,” Melody soothed. “You’re choosing to celebrate thirty years of marriage with your wife. How many people achieve that milestone anymore? It’s something to celebrate and you and Mom deserve to.”
“I know. What your mom and I have is very special and worth celebrating, but I feel awful about leaving you over Thanksgiving.” He rubbed his hands on his pant legs, demonstrating just how worried he was about the whole thing.
Melody did her best to look reassuring. “Daddy, we aren’t really even American. We celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving last month. Please go,” she encouraged. “Enjoy yourself.”
“Are you really, truly sure, honey? You aren’t just putting on a brave front?”
“Yes!” Melody promised, a small laugh breaking through. “I’m really, truly sure. Even if you had gotten married over Canadian Thanksgiving, I would still understand. I’m a grown-up. I’ve celebrated Thanksgiving—Canadian and American—by myself before. I will live to tell the tale of one more.”
“If you’re sure?” he said with lingering hesitation, even as he cast a longing look at the travel brochures he’d received from his travel agent.
“Daddy, if you don’t stop this soon, I’m going to book the darn tickets for you myself,” she threatened.
He raised his hands in surrender, a small smile ghosting his lips. “Okay. Okay. You win.”
“Good!” she said.
Melody walked across the room and gave her father a hug. Case closed.
“Will your mom and I see you for dinner tomorrow night?” he asked, resting his chin on the top of her head. Her father wasn’t a particularly tall man, but he definitely had several inches on her.
“And miss seeing you before you head out for another series of away games?” she said. “Not a chance.”
“I love you, honey,” her dad said, giving her one more squeeze before releasing her.
“I love you, too, Daddy,” she said, returning the hug.
“Could you . . . ?” Melody asked as they pulled apart. She fluttered her hand toward the door.
