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He keeps an arm around his mom’s shoulders as he offers his hand first to me and then to my dad. Dad pumps Vic’s hand so vigorously I’m worried one of them is about to lose an arm.
“Vic Varg.” My dad says. His voice is practically shaking with suppressed emotion. “It is such an honor to meet you. I’ve been following your career since Chicago. You’re a damn fine player.”
“Thank you, sir,” Vic says, with all the modesty of a man confident in his own abilities. Dad slides his gaze to mine and mouths Vic’s name as if it’s a prayer. I shrug my shoulders.
“I have about a million questions. Can I ask them?” Well, that’s better than my dad bulldozing the poor man into answering whatever he wants. Progress.
“Of course,” Vic says, “Come on over and meet some of the guys and you can ask us anything you want.”
Vic leads my father around one couch and has him sit down on another as several players come forward. They pull up chairs and l watch the men lean forward and shake Dad’s hand. He looks like a king holding court, except his people are a bunch of professional athletes. Peppering them with a million and ten questions, he’s talking with his hands, big slashing gestures, and my heart goes soft, rolling over in my chest to expose its soft underbelly becausemy dad is wearing the biggest grin I’ve seen in months. Possibly years.
“Thank you so much for doing this,” I say to Maria, watching my dad inflate under the attention of his favorite team. After all the unhappy crap we’ve been through in the last couple of months, if anyone deserves this pocket of joy, it’s my dad. “You’ve made his evening. Possibly his entire year.”
“You don’t have to thank me.” Maria waves her hand like she can swat away my gratitude. “It was Erik’s idea. He wanted tonight to be special for you both, and he knows your dad’s a fan of Vic’s.”
It had been Erik’s idea? He had said nothing, just handled it. The same way he’d gotten me the ticket.
Even without being here in person, he’d made it better.
My little crush stretches, growing at least another two inches. How could it not? This gift. It isn’t just for me. It’s for my dad. The most important person in my life right now. Erik cannot have an ulterior motive. I’m not even going to see him again. No matter how much I might want to.
“You have an amazing son,” I say, and we both know I’m not talking about the professional hockey player who scored the tying goal of the night and made two assists. “Thank you for coming to get us.”
“Oh, it was selfish honey,” Maria throws me a wink. “Vic and I have been dying to meet the woman who caught Erik’s attention.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Even as I say the words, I can feel my blush spread and my heart stutters.
“I owe you the thank you,” Maria continues. “He’s flying in on Wednesday night. He called to let me know. I can’t remember the last time we saw him more than once in a year, or the last time we talked on the phone, and now we get two trips in a month. And I got two phone calls this week.” She turns to me, her hazel eyes a little wet at the edges, and her smile trembling. “Whoever you might be to him, you’re the woman who got him to come home.”
TEXT MESSAGE
SATURDAY, 11:48 PM CST
Quinn Cooper:
A little birdie told me you’re the man responsible for my dad meeting his idol tonight.
By idol I mean your brother. And by birdie I mean your mom.
Erik Varg:
She used to be more subtle than that. She’s losing her touch.
Quinn Cooper:
I think she assumed I already knew.
Thank you.
Erik Varg:
Don’t thank me. If anything it was a favor for Vic. He needs constant ego stroking to function.
And I like your dad.
Quinn Cooper:
I also hear you’re coming to town next week.
