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“Did you know he had servants that helped him go the bathroom? The Groom of the Stool.” She giggles.
“So powerful he ruled countries and started his own church, but couldn’t wipe his own ass,” I say with a wink. She cracks up, a happy tear trailing out of one eye.
“Ewww, can you imagine?”
We banter back and forth with random quirky facts of the time period while we eat and wait for the game to start back up. Shortly after it does, Alexander scores a goal, and the place erupts with whooping. Several people nearby high-five Callie, who eats it up as her brother’s biggest fan.
“All he needs now is a fight and Zan will have a Gordie Howe hat trick,” Callie says, bouncing in her seat.
“What does that mean,” I ask Willa.
“A goal, an assist, and a fight,” she says. “All in the same game.”
“Why is it called that?”
“Honestly? No idea. He was a famous player, but beyond that, no clue,” she says.
“Hockey is a little on the weird side.”
“That’s what is so great about it,” Callie says, turning over her shoulder to smile at me. Something behind her catches her attention and she pales. “No.”
“What is it?” I follow her gaze to find a man having only just entered the restaurant. His face gaunt, but eyes full of anger as they lock onto Callie. “Is that your father?”
“What?” Willa turns now, too.
“Yes,” Callie says quietly, watching the man make his way over.
“It’s okay,” I tell her, placing a hand on her arm. “Watch the game, sweetheart. Willa, stay here with her.”
Standing, I meet the man a dozen feet away from our table. He tries to sidestep me, but I move into his way again.
“Turn around and leave, Steve,” I say.
“Who are you? Get out of my way,” he slurs.
“No. Leave now. There’s no need to cause a scene in front of all your son’s fans.”
“My daughter,” he stammers. “I need to take my daughter home.”
“Callie will not be going home with you,” I tell him, placing a hand on his chest. “Again, I’ll ask you to leave. Alexander will talk to you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” he asks, loudly and garnering more attention from those around us. “He’s not home.”
He tries to push past me again, but I don’t budge, my fist now balling in his shirt.
“Leave,” I hiss in his ear. “Right now before I fucking beat you until you can’t even recognize yourself in the mirror. It’s the least you deserve for what you’ve done to that little girl.”
Steve blinks at me a few times, dazed for a moment. Right when I think he’s found something to say, another man steps in. He’s large, larger than me and certainly bigger than Steve.
“Come on, Steve. Time to call it a night,” he says. Ignoring the drunk man’s protest, the stranger turns to me and tips his chin up. I don’t move until they’re out the door.
Callie stares at me in awe as Willa rubs a hand up and down the poor girl’s arms.
“Thank you,” she says, starry-eyed, when I get back to the table.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart. We’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt you again,” I promise.
I’ve never meant anything more in my life.
