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“Yeah, you’ll be on your own for a little bit,” he tells me since his Friday game is in Michigan.
“I’m proficient at taking care of myself.”
“Still, I like it better when you have Damian while I’m gone.”
“That’s sweet of you,” I tell him then take another bite of the tiny toast with fig jam. It does pair surprisingly well with my purple bulbous peen drink. “But I’ll be fine, and you’ll have enough to worry about trying to get Callie and your mom out of there.”
“Speaking of, I had a favor I wanted to ask you.”
“Okay.”
“If things look promising at home, meaning if it looks like I’m going to be bringing her home, could I get you to run and grab some girly things for her? Set up my apartment for a teenage girl?”
“Absolutely, I’d love to help.”
“Thanks, Willa. I really appreciate the support.”
“No worries, big guy.”
“What are your plans after school?”
“You know, hardly anyone asks me that,” I say, and he looks surprised. “Ultimately, I’d like to run a women’s center. There’s a program down in Pierce County that works with homeless youth. They have their own coffee shop and roaster. It’s a place where the teens can learn the skills needed to work and run the place. When they’re ready they can take them into the workforce outside of the charity. I really love that idea and would like to duplicate it in some way. Maybe even try to find investors that would help women with the capital needed to start their own ventures where they could then help more women.”
“That’s a great idea,” he says.
“I have a million of those. But this is the one that I’ve thought about the most. I want built-in childcare and counselors. Even an outreach for girls who are about to age out of foster care,” I say. “What about you? Have you thought of post NHL plans?”
“I’ve had to. We don’t usually have long careers,” he says, and I nod. It’s something I understand well. “I’d like to coach. Not in The Show or anything. But maybe peewee leagues where I can help kids develop.”
“You miss being around kids?”
“I do. Some days more than others, but yeah. I’m one of the oldest of all my cousins, it’s weird not having a bunch of munchkins running around.”
Which explains why he never minded hanging out with my sister and my niece so much. My childhood was full of family, too, but on a much smaller scale since both my parents are only children.
“Do you want children of your own?”
He leans back in his chair and drags his gaze over me.
“Willa, I have dreams of getting a baby inside you.”
Oh.
Flushing, I let him appreciate the reaction he gets out of me. We finish dinner and get a tower of macarons for dessert, along with another decadent drink.
If the path of this relationship continues, it’s something we’d need to discuss further. I’ve never put a lot of thought into having children, figuring it would happen when it was supposed to. If ever. But if the three of us stick, and they both want children, how do we do that? Does anyone marry? Do the children take each of their father’s names?
It’s complicated, but it’s also exciting to see the possibilities of families existing in non-traditional ways. And working.
By the time we leave, I’m full, toasty from liquor, and full of dreams of the future.
Once in Zander’s car, his phone buzzes before we can pull out of the parking lot.
“Shit, it’s Callie,” he says to me, then answers, “Whoa, slow down. What happened?”
I can hear her rapidly giving information on the other end, I don’t catch all the words, but I get the gist. Their father touched her again, and she’s in hysterics over it. Rightfully. Zander loses it and starts rattling off every foul word in his vocabulary while she cries.
“Zan,” I say, crawling over the center console and onto his lap. “Let me talk to her.”
