Page 3 of Temptation On Ice

“You do have an interesting group of friends, but Callum is my favorite.” She smiles up at me, and I know she’s thinking of their many karaoke dates or trips into the city.

“He loves you too, probably more than he likes me, which is saying something because that man has been trying to get into my bed since I met him three years ago.” I shake my head. Poor guy. The feeling is not mutual.

“He’s coming by soon to remodel the barn for the puppies' new space, right? We desperately need to expand. This new litter is ready to move out of the whelping room and into full-size kennels. There’s barely enough room as is.”

I nod. “He’ll be starting on the project soon, but don’t expect a linear timeline with him. He’s too scatterbrained for that. I have no idea how long it’ll take, how much it’ll cost, or what he’s doing first.”

“Well, at least you have something else to focus on now, so Callum doesn’t drive you crazy during the remodel. And I know what I’ll be focused on.” She rolls a puppy onto her lap and scratches its belly.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” I ask, unable to fight my curiosity.

“Finding you a big, strong man to keep you occupied so I can do my job without you interfering and making life harder than necessary.” She grins like the evil she-devil she is and holds up the puppy in her arms, making it wave a paw at me. I drop my head back against the wall in defeat.

Oh, fuck my life.

Two

Sebastian

“Sebastian, we haven’t spoken to Enzo all week. He’s going to forget all about his Nonnie and Papa. You were gone all summer. Now that we’re all back in town, I want to see my grandson. Why don't you let us come by or take him for the weekend?”

I cringe as my mom’s nasally New York accent grates through the phone with immediate demands instead of a hello. I’m just trying to get settled into our routine again after spending a few weeks with my sister, Bianca, on Long Island. I sent my parents on a much-needed month-long trip through Italy by themselves after spending the hockey season helping me with Enzo and getting us set up in a new city when I was traded from New York. But now they’re acting like I’ve kept my kid from seeing them out of spite.

“Mom, you know we just got home, too, and Enzo is getting back into his school routine. I want him to find his normal routine as quickly as we can. He already deals with enough craziness when I’m in season. The best I can do is give him some stability now and get him used to what I can while I have the time.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to keep him from us. We helped you so much last season. We could do it again. I’ll come over tomorrow and cook for you. I can make a new pasta recipe I learned in Italy that’ll be good for the week, so you have dinner ready after practice, and we can see Enzo. We’re part of his routine also, you know.”

I bite back my instant snappy retort, knowing it won't help anything, and reach for a practiced calm. “Ma, you don't have to do that, we’re okay. I don't want you and Pop doing more than necessary. You’ve already done too much by moving to Atlanta with me. We’ll be okay with some extra people helping around our house when we need it. Enzo likes his new nanny, and the chef I hired is good.”

“A chef? Sebastian, really? I can cook for you if you need someone to help with food. Wasn’t my cooking good enough for you growing up? It should be good enough for Enzo now. You don't need to hire a chef.” She scoffs at the notion. “You already have too many people coming and going in Enzo’s life. The poor boy’s had more nannies in four years than most kids have in their lives. The maids, the drivers, the security. Now a chef? It’s too much.”

Guilt slams into me, and I look around at the modern home devoid of clutter that has no presence of me or Enzo. We just moved in, and it shows. I bought the house at the beginning of the summer, ready to have my space again, and did some remodeling while visiting Bianca. I was so excited to come home to a place that was just for me and Enzo, but now it seems selfish.

It still feels strange, and not like home at all. At least not like the home Eliana and I shared when we were married and I played for Los Angeles. It’s also not like the apartment I had when I played in New York. Even the spacious rental I shared with my parents last season was always full of noise from Mom and Pop, the nanny, and whoever else had to come and go while I was busy with hockey. That space was full of life, and at least you knew we lived there.

This home is sparkling clean, almost sterile, because the housekeeper was here shortly before we got home. The fridge is stocked with professionally prepared meals from Rudy, our new chef. Sally, the nanny, is here daily but never leaves a mess. I’ve created a network of people to help me take care of my child while navigating an insane job as a single parent. I thought I was doing the right thing, hiring the right people to ensure I had help so I could finally put some much-needed distance between myself and my overbearing parents.

But Mom is right, Enzo has an ever-revolving door of people around all the time because of it. I hate that he’s had an unstable life, but when your dad is a professional athlete and your mom dies the day you’re born, it’s a bit hard to expect the mundane. I bite my cheek at the surge of emotions that thinking of Eliana always brings. It makes me even more determined to keep the promise I made to myself to be more self-sufficient this year, for my sanity and Enzo’s sense of normalcy. It’s the least I can do when I already have so much in flux for him.

“Yes, Ma, a chef,” I say with quiet resolve, putting the emotions that bubbled up while thinking about Eliana back in the box where they belong. I don't have time to deal with those today. I haven't been able to deal with them for four years. I don't know when I’ll get to them, but it’s definitely not right now.

My parents have been incredibly helpful. I’m grateful for everything they’ve done for us. I couldn't have made it through the last four years without them, but it’s time we each have a little independence, for their sake, and mine.

“I want you and Pop to enjoy your retirement. You should travel more, like you’ve always said you wanted to. You shouldn’t have to take care of me and Enzo all the time. So, I’m bringing in extra help.”

“You know we want to help you! This is exactly how we want to spend our retirement,” she says stubbornly. “Being a grandmother is my life’s calling.”

If it’s her calling, why does she insist on guilting me for every little thing she does for us? Instead of saying any of that, which would just hurt her, I swallow the thought down and focus on all her help.

“I know, Ma. But this season will be different. We’re in our own house, and we all have to adapt to a new way of doing things. Enzo is four. Next year, he’ll be in kindergarten, and there’ll be even more changes. I want this year to set things up for him. It doesn't mean you can’t be around, or I won’t need you, it just means we won't be relying on you quite as much. You deserve some time to yourself, you’ve earned it after everything I’ve put you through.”

I hope like hell that was sensitive enough for her soft heart and insistence on inserting herself in my life. She’s a good Italian mom who cares too much. I let her hover and intercede on my behalf when I was numb and dealing with a baby, then a toddler, while navigating my career in professional sports. It was easier to give in to her insistence than to fight it, but this last season was the wake-up call I needed. I finally looked up and realized I’d let her control more of my life than I ever intended, and it was time to cut those strings, put up boundaries, and find some much-needed independence.

Looks like that’s going to be easier said than done when she’s fighting me every step of the way.

She makes a humming noise, put out, but doesn’t sound completely destroyed, which is promising. “If you need so much help, maybe you should start dating and find yourself a wife to take care of you and Enzo. At least then I’d know someone who actually loved you was looking after you. A nice Italian girl could feed you and keep your house, and raise Enzo to be a good man.”

My heart falters and trips into my stomach as her innocuous comment drop-kicks me out of nowhere. I pull the phone away from my ear and try to breathe through the immediate pain. Fuck. I can’t just replace Eliana like she wasn’t the love of my life. That would make me a shitty fucking husband who didn't deserve her. I’m already failing at so much.