Page 88 of My Lucky Charm

I go to practice and they Uber back to the apartment, before Eloise will navigate her way around the city with my daughter, buying everything they need to turn that empty guest room into Scarlett’s room.

And I know that should have zero effect on me, but watching them head off together, it doesn’t feel like I’m watching my employee babysitting. It feels like I’m watching a relationship forming.

And I’m pretty sure that is going to come back to bite me.

Because that’s what happens.

That night, I look over the literal piles of things Eloise bought. Before she leaves for the day, she tells me not to open anything and that she’ll be back tomorrow to help Scarlett set things up.

I watch as Scarlett throws her arms around Eloise’s waist before she goes, and it’s obvious: my daughter is falling in love with this woman.

And if I’m not careful, she won’t be the only one.

The next day, I go to practice while Eloise and Scarlett work on the room. I know she got permission from the building manager to paint the walls, but I’m afraid to ask for details. After I work through my pre-game ritual, I get a text with a photo. A selfie of both of them grinning at the camera in front of a very turquoise wall. Eloise has a dot of paint on her right cheek and Scarlett has the whole front of her shirt painted turquoise.

I stifle a laugh.

I’m still staring at the photo when my phone starts buzzing with a call from Eloise. She’s my assistant, and she has every reason to call me, but for some reason, it throws me for a second. I’m getting ready for the game, and I like to keep this part of the day distraction free.

Burke frowns at me, and I turn away, quietly answering the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, Dad! It’s Scarlett.” As if I wouldn’t have known. “Did you get our picture?”

“Yeah,” I say, trying to keep my voice low. “It looks great so far.” I don’t talk to Scarlett the same way I talk to other people. She has access to my softer side, and that’s not something I share with anyone else. Especially my new teammates. “Hey, I’m right in the middle of something, can I call you in a little while?”

“Yeah,” Scarlett says. “I just wanted to know if I get to come to the game tonight.”

I squeeze the bridge of my nose with my free hand. I had forgotten. “I’m not sure yet.” I leave off the “sweetheart” I’d normally tack onto the end of that sentence because I can feel Jericho and Kemp eavesdropping.

I’m not ashamed of or embarrassed by Scarlett, not by a long shot. If I had my way, I’d parade her around on my shoulders after every game. But bringing her to a game means introducing her to a bunch of new people. It means accepting this trade. It’s one step closer to making Chicago my home. And the Comets my team.

“Eloise said she’d take me,” Scarlett says. “But I need a new jersey because I only have a Philly one, and it’s too small.”

“Well, you should stop growing then.”

I can practically hear her eyes roll.

“What are you going to do with the old one?” I ask.

“Duh,” she says. “I’m going to sell it on eBay and make a fat load of cash.”

I stifle another laugh. “I’m both impressed and offended by that.”

“How else am I going to get my own phone?”

I shake my head. I swear she’s aged a whole year since I moved to Chicago only weeks ago.

“So, can you get us tickets?” she asks.

“Can you put Eloise on?” I ask.

Her voice is a little distant when she says, “He wants to talk to you.”

I’m half-dressed so I don’t go into the hallway, but I do move away from the audience of nosy teammates changing nearby.

“Hey.” Eloise’s voice instantly stills the nervous buzzing inside of me, and I start to wonder if she should be part of my pre-game ritual.

“Hey.”

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