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“Who were we playing? At that game?”
“Edmonton.”
“Did we win?” I asked, still trying to remember which game she was talking about.
“No. 5-1 for them. You got into three fights, though, if that rings a bell?” she said, her smile even bigger now.
“Not so much. That describes dozens of my games, unfortunately.”
She giggled and it made me want to kiss her again. “True.”
“I don’t remember seeing any pictures of you at Angelique and Marcel’s house?” And trust me, I would have noticed if there was even one picture of her over there.
“Yeah, I’m on a horse, smiling like a complete dork. Dad’s in the background,” she said, sounding more subdued now.
I thought for a minute, then finally something clicked. “Right beside mine? There’s a cute kid on a horse next to my picture on their mantle, is that you?”
“That’s me.”
“Why didn’t they ever update the photo? They switched out my picture all the time,” I said, thinking it really weird that Angelique hadn’t switched her photo for so many years.
Gigi sat back in her chair. “Dad died the next day. I think they kept it there for him. And for me.”
I sighed and reached for her hand. “Damn, G, I didn’t know that. I’m sorry for bringing it up.”
“It’s fine, really.”
“No, it’s not. I brought up a bunch of bad memories,” I said in a low voice as I put my arm around her. “I’m sorry.”
“Good memories, Beau. Really good memories. Watching the game that night was a lot of fun. So was going riding with everyone the day before—we lost Dad. See? Good memories. Happy times,” she said, but her eyes were glassy in contradiction to her words. Watching her when she was emotional did something to me.
Just like a few nights ago when she was having a meltdown because of how homesick she was. That was where we should be right now. Damn it, I was a selfish bastard for making her come here instead, when she clearly needed her mother.
“Geneviève, I met your father one time at Angelique’s. Delightful man. He told me how he’d given you Beau’s first pro-hockey card.”
“His first junior card, too,” she said to my mother. “He noticed your son years before he made the big time.”
“I know someone who’d pay you top dollar for those. If you still have them?” I said, teasing her, but at the same time I really wished she had them. Somehow, I’d lost my first couple of junior cards. It bothered me to this day that I didn’t have them.
Gigi gazed in my direction. “Hmm, maybe we can make a deal. We’ll see.”
“Do you still have them?” I asked, not wanting to get my hopes up.
“Of course, I do. I’ll give them to you when we get home,” she said, elbowing me lightly in the ribs.
“Seriously? You still have my cards?”
She nodded calmly.
“I’ll pay you for them,” I spouted out as fast as I could.
“Well, I was going to use them as my retirement fund. But I guess I could give them to you instead,” she said, showing a glimpse of feisty Gigi coming out.
“Very funny. But I’ll still pay you.”
“I don’t want you to pay me. They’re your cards.”
“No, they’re your cards. And I will pay you.”
