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I sigh in annoyance. “I’m fine,” I say.
“The good ones are worth the fight,” he says. “If you ask me, anyway.”
I fold my arms. As usual, Liam seems to have been able to at least partly read my thoughts. He knows I’m off because of Mia, even if I haven’t openly admitted it to anyone. “I’ll keep that in mind if I ever find a ‘good one’.”
He chuckles. “Just because Mia doesn’t roll over and let you have her, it doesn’t mean she doesn’t like you. The ones who take a little fighting are the ones who are most worth it, if you ask me. They have their own lives. Their own dreams. You want one like that, and maybe you have to make a sacrifice or two.”
I narrow my eyes. “Did she talk to you?”
“Not really,” he says.
It’s an evasive answer, but I decide not to press him on it. I’m watching Jesse and Jake run through a passing drill while Maddox does some goofy figure skating routine in full pads. Carter laughs his ass off when Maddox loses his balance in a spin and falls face first on the ice.
“But relationship stuff always looks so complicated from the inside,” Liam says. “Take a look from the outside, though? Usually, it’s pretty simple. Usually, it’s just a lack of communication.”
“So you’ve got us figured out?”
“Us?” He asks, lips curving upward.
“Shut up,” I say, laughing even though I’m not in the mood to laugh.
“Look,” he says, standing and picking his helmet back up. “I don’t know if you want to be with her at the end of the day. I don’t even know if you’d rather be running that restaurant than out here practicing for next season. But I do know you’re balancing yourself between three things that are all going to take every bit of your focus. You don’t have enough feet to hold open all three doors.” He taps his temple at me, winks, and then skates back out on the ice.
“I don’t have enough feet to hold open all three doors?” I say to myself. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
16
MIA
“Huh,” Grams says, hands on her hips as she spins and takes in Taste for the first time. It’s a Saturday morning, so it’s only me, Paisley, Edgar, and Zander doing a few hours of prep in the back. Zander said he wouldn’t mind if my Grams came to take a look around. “So these are the decorations he went with, huh?” She lifts a vine dangling from an overhead pot.
Grams strolls the dining room, squinting as she looks up. “Light bulbs dangling from black wires. That’s how you know a place is classy, right?”
“I think it looks cool in here,” I say.
She spares me a small smile, then nudges me. “It’s cool, Kid. I’m just fuckin’ with you.”
“Come on. I want you to meet everyone,” I say, taking her gently by the arm and leading her back to the kitchen.
“Fuck me on a Sunday,” Grams breathes. “You didn’t tell me how gorgeous that man is.”
I look at Zander. We’re still far enough away that they won’t hear us if we’re speaking quietly, so I lower my voice. “He’s handsome. Not really my type, though.”
“No shit, Sherlock. He’s pushing eighty. But those buns are about to push the ‘activate libido in case of emergency’ in my ovaries.”
I narrow my eyes, my brain needing a moment to catch up. “You mean Edgar?” I say, a smile creeping across my lips.
She pulls me out of the doorway to the kitchen, eyes wide as she cups my face. “How do I look? Do I smell bad?” She lifts her armpit and stuffs it in my face.
I laugh, coughing and trying to pull my head away. “You smell like a grandma. Like roses and peppermint candy.”
“Good,” she says. “The grandma scent is in this year in the over seventy crowd. If he asks you, I’m eighty-one. Not a day older. Understand me? And my body count is under twenty, but not below ten. You only offer that up if he presses you, got it?”
I close my eyes, shaking my head. “I’m not going to offer that up because I just purged it from my memory. Thank you, Grams.”
She gives my cheek a gentle slap, then adjusts her boobs. They fall right back to where they were before her encouragement, but she starts walking with a slight sway in her step as she enters the kitchen. “Well,” she croons. “It certainly smells nice in here.”
I follow after her, trying not to laugh. She’s doing her best to look like some kind of dainty, sweet old grandma? This should be good.
