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“Does Daddy has all his teeths?”
“Of course, he does,” I say with a giggle.
“I thought so,” she huffs, her tiny fists finding her hips. “That boy said hockey players don’t have teeths. I said he was a liar.”
“Well, you’re kind of both right. Your dad has all his teeth, but other players are missing some.”
“Open your mouth,” she tells Zan. He does, and she studies his gaping maw for a few moments. “I don’t see any missing.”
“That’s because I have all mine, too.”
“Axel is missing two, you can ask him next time you see him,” I tell her.
“Two? Oh, my good gravy!” She runs back off to the swings, her hand to her forehead as if she can’t possibly believe it.
“Your kid probably just jinxed me.”
“Probably,” I agree with another laugh.
“If I lose one, I’m sending Wylder the dental bill.”
“You do that.”
* * *
Days pass and we fall into a new routine. Work is busy. It’s a part of professional hockey franchises I didn’t have much insight into as a kid, but that’s the goal. Learn as much about the business as I can. Who knows where it will take me? I’m not sure I care what I’m doing in the industry as long as I’m in it, as long as I’m a part of the game.
Cillian’s finding his groove here, too. He’s found a balance between training, working out, playing, and being a dad. He has his nights with Sadie, and I have mine. But we share more dinners together than not. And on the nights she stays with one of her grandmothers, Cillian and I share some adult sexy times.
He hasn’t pressed me for more than that, and I’m thankful for it. Every day I grow closer to giving him my whole heart. It doesn’t need to be rushed, however. Mom reminded me that we have our whole lives ahead of us and I’ll know when the time is right.
Spending so much free time with Cillian has, however, taken a toll on my time with Zander. Tonight, he’s hanging out with me and Sadie as we watch Cillian’s game on television. It’s the game against Boston, where I assume Trina is in attendance. As far as I know, she still works for the team. I haven’t asked if that assumption is correct.
Cillian sees her for who she is now and the toll it’s taken on him has been heavy. His guilt is evident enough, but it’s the rest that worries me. A woman, someone he thought was a friend, took advantage of him in profoundly awful ways that helped change the course of his life. He’s struggling to come to terms with that level of betrayal.
It’s not the first away game Cillian’s had since our conversation about trying again. Not by a long shot. He calls as often as he can. Which is more than necessary. He misses us when he’s gone, but I know it’s partly in effort to reassure me of any doubts I have. There hasn’t been any though, not until this trip. Not until tonight, the first of a four-night trip.
Cillian:
I love you and I miss you. Tell Sadie the same for me.
The text comes only minutes before they take the ice.
“Daddy says he loves and misses you,” I tell her as she tries to roll up the sleeves of her jersey, Wylder emblazoned on the back of it. It’s much too big, but she loves it and wears it every time we watch the games on television.
“I hope he scores a goal for me.” She says the same thing every time. He scores plenty, but of course not every game. Sadie’s proud of him no matter what, but she goes nuts when he gets even an assist. Between that and yelling “Pops” every time the camera pans to my dad standing over the bench, she’s a handful on game nights.
“Did you see that,” Zander asks, his eyes trained on the television as the players line up for the anthem. Trina is standing just inside the rink, her camera to her face. Her Boston players are not her focus, though. She’s taking shots of the Blades. When Cillian steps on the ice, he shows her his big, gloved palm and skates right past, while she visibly balks at something he says to her.
“Good boy,” I say with a smile. It’s years late, but I’m not holding it against him. Not anymore. This time we’re fighting the battle named Trina together, as a team. No more secrets, no more lies, nothing hidden away in the shadows never to be spoken of.
Our daughter deserves better than who we’ve been. We all deserve better.
“You’re warming up to him,” Zander teases.
“A little,” I agree with a shrug. It’s true that we’re getting closer since we’ve quit sniping at each other, at least. My Saturday nights are no longer spent with anyone but him. But that’s the only commitment I’ve made. There still hasn’t been a proclamation of love.
Regardless of what I feel.
