"Mhmm… and the sweatshirt?"
I glance down at the gator staring back, mouth opened like it's mocking me. "It's fine," I shrug.
She smothers a laugh as we finally step into the aisle. I glance back at Ruthie, who is still laughing with Cooper, while I let the woman with the now-sleeping baby out first.
"So is its owner," Alex says in my ear from behind me
The lady smiles at me, and I force myself to grin back before twisting my head over my shoulder. "I'm ignoring you," I sing back.
I walk the length of the aisle, waving at the usher as I push through the crowd of people lingering in the tunnel. When we make it into the concourse, I turn around, waiting for Ruthie and Coop to catch up to us. "You hush," I demand, wagging my finger in Alex's direction.
She drags her thumb and forefinger across her lips, her eyes glued to my hand still up by her face. "Oh, my lips are sealed, but I don't think that's gonna help with—"
"Is that Dad's sweatshirt?" Ruthie asks the second she steps up to us.
My cheeks definitely answer for me, but being that she's only twelve, I hope she doesn't notice. I move to answer, but no words come out as I argue with myself about whether lying would be considered harmful in this case.
"Yeah, it is," she says, grabbing my wrist. Only now do I realize my finger's still frozen in the air. "Only the players' clubhouse hoodies have their numbers sewn onto the sleeve."
My eyes slowly drop to the number twenty-three embroidered onto the thick cotton in a bright dark yellow that clearly went unnoticed. By me.
"Oh," I answer with the huff of a laugh. "Yeah, I—"
"He left it at our house the other day," Alex cuts in casually. "I gave it to Tess to give back to your dad since we're headed right to the rink."
"So, why is she wearing it?" Cooper asks. His voice isn't accusatory, but I still want to throw myself into the vat of nacho cheese bubbling at the concession stand beside us.
"I got cold," I say quickly.
Three sets of eyes dart to the flannel now wrapped around my waist.
"I told her it didn't work," Alex says with a playful eye roll.
The tweens' faces drop with a relief I'm slightly offended by.
"It was the right idea," Ruthie blurts. "For any other day. Just not like at an actual game, ya know?"
I smile at Ruthie as my eyes slide to Cooper, who shrugs, mostly uninterested. I continue the passing glance to Alex, who I tell with just one look that she's lucky she saved me before making that comment. This flannel is great, and if I were to reconsider some of my most recent decisions, this purchase would definitely not be at the top of the list.
Looking back at the stitched numbers thatdohint at one of my more questionable choices, I pray for anything to happen besides this moment continuing.
"Can we still get snow cones tonight?" Ruthie asks Alex. I thank God for the question—and for Ruthie's short attention span—and my chest finally deflates.
"Duh," she says, nudging her shoulder.
Ruthie grins. "You sure you don't want to come, Tess?"
I smile at the offer—the idea that she's now asked three times warming me more than this oversized sweatshirt. "No, that's okay. I have to move some more of my stuff into your house, actually. But thank you for asking."
She brings her shoulders to her ears, her eyes bright. "Okay."
We all start making our way toward the back exit where we parked, Ruthie and Cooper already discussing what color ice they're getting at the arena.
"You gonna have any help with those big, heavy boxes?" Alex asks as the two of us naturally fall a few steps back from the kids.
I sigh heavily, which tells her all she needs to know.
"I love this," she mutters under her breath.
