Page 100 of Hot As Ice

“Follow me, please,” she says with a smile.

I walk behind her with my hands in my coat pockets, an uncomfortable feeling in my gut. I’m already counting down the minutes until I can leave, and I haven’t even been seated yet. It’s going to be a long brunch.

Celeste spots me first, face breaking out into a big smile. She rises from her seat with her arms out to embrace me. I hug her and she kisses me on the cheek. My father’s embrace is much more perfunctory. His face is set in its usual grumpy lines and I can’t stand to look at it, so I focus on Celeste’s sunny expression.

“How are you?” she asks. “We haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“I’ve been good,” I lie, unfolding and placing my linen napkin on my lap. “How have you been?”

“You were suspended from two games and you’ve been good?” my father counters before Celeste can answer. Celeste’s mouth drops as she looks between us.

“Suspended?” she asks.

“Yeah. I got into a fight during a game.”

“You broke the other player’s nose,” my father says.

I shrug, knowing it’ll annoy the fuck out of him. “He deserved it.”

“His father called me. They want to sue.”

I look at my father to assess whether he’s bluffing. I reach for my water and take a sip. Acting as nonchalant as possible, I shrug one shoulder. “Fighting happens in hockey all the time. Is he going to sue every time someone hits him in the NHL?”

My father grunts.

Celeste still looks shocked. “Hockey is too violent for me.”

I smile at her. “For some people, that’s its main appeal.”

She shudders. “I just can’t imagine it.”

“Have you ever been to a hockey game?” I ask her.

“No, but I’d love to come to one of yours. As long as you promise you won’t break another player’s nose again.”

I smile. “It’s a deal.”

The server comes by then and we place our drink orders while Celeste orders a few appetizers. She folds her hands on the table and her huge diamond engagement ring glints in the light. I still can’t believe she married my father. Looking at them now, the contrast is too much. Dad looks every one of his 45 years while Celeste still looks like she’s in her twenties. It makes her look that much more vulnerable to me.

“How’s Stevie?” Celeste asks.

I was expecting this question, but it still throws me off. Just hearing her name is like a gut punch. I grab my water, taking another sip as a stalling measure.

“She’s great.”

“We need to plan a lunch or dinner with the four of us soon,” Celeste says. “She’s such a sweetheart, and you two seem perfect for each other.”

I nod and avoid eye contact. I have no idea if I seem as awkward and uncomfortable as I feel, but I need to change the subject.

“Are you two planning a honeymoon?” I ask them.

Celeste glances at my father. He shakes his head. “Not with the holidays coming up.”

“But maybe sometime next year,” Celeste puts in. “Speaking of the holidays, I’m planning a big Christmas Eve party and I hope you and Stevie can join us. Or maybe Stevie will be with her family?”

“I’m not sure about her holiday plans,” I answer honestly.

The server returns and takes our food orders and I’m more grateful than I can say for the distraction. I hate that Stevie keeps coming up in the conversation; I hate how my father barely says anything and just sips his Old Fashioned; I hate his assessing gaze on me. But I think if I suck it up for the next hour, I can excuse myself and leave without getting too much shit from him.