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“Of course, you can.”
I step onto the ice first and turn around, taking Devon’s hands in mine. Her legs are wobbling and she squeals, but I hold onto her and help keep her upright. Moving slowly, I start skating backward, pulling her out to the ice with me. She glides along, still wobbly and unsteady, but managing to stay on her feet.
“See? You’re doing great.”
She laughs. “I am! I’m doing it!”
“Now, I’m going to let go…”
“No, no, no,” she shrieks. “Don’t let go.”
“You can do this. Just slide your feet forward one at a time. Smooth and easy.”
She yelps when I let go of her hands, skating backward in front of her. Devon’s strides are jerky and uneasy, and she has to pinwheel her arms a few times to keep herself upright, but she does it. I laugh and clap. “See? You’ve got this. Just believe in yourself.”
Her face lights up, and she gives me that smile that not just stirs my loins but makes me feel all sorts of things.
And then she stumbles. Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open as she waves her arms wildly, doing everything she can to stay on her feet.
“Oh no!” she squeals.
Devon’s foot comes out from under, and she lurches, overcorrects, and falls backward. She hits the ice butt-first with a loud grunt.
“Ow!” she cries.
I skate over and reach down. She gives me her hand, and I haul her to her feet. With a chuckle, Devon rubs her injured backside and sticks her lower lip out as if she’s pouting but bursts out laughing.
“You were doing great,” I say.
“Until I wasn’t.”
“It’s a learning process. Just take it slow and easy.”
I take Devon’s hand in mine and skate alongside her. We move slowly and deliberately, up one side of the rink then down the other, and it’s not long before she’s skating smoothly and with more confidence. She looks over at me with a wide smile on her face and a glimmer in her eye.
“This is amazing,” she says.
“Yes, you are.”
Flush crawls up her neck, and she looks down at the ice. The arena’s speakers crackle. A moment later, Percy Sledge’s hit song ‘When a Man Loves a Woman’ begins to play, making me laugh. Devon looks over at me with a look that’s equal parts surprised and amused.
“Laying it on kind of thick, aren’t you?” she asks.
“This isn’t me. This is Jerry, the head of security here. He thinks he’s funny,” I say with a chuckle. “This one is pretty good, but it’s definitely not the song I would have chosen if I were trying to lay it on thick.”
“Oh? And what song would you have picked?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe ‘Unchained Melody’ by the Righteous Brothers or maybe ‘At Last’ by Etta James.”
She looks at me like I’ve suddenly started speaking Greek. “How old are you again? Sixty?” she teases. “How about music from like this century?”
I laugh. “Baby girl, they don’t make romantic music like that today. Back in the day, they made music that made you feel. That had soul.”
We share a smile as we continue to skate, and she’s starting to sway to the song. Her crack about the music makes me think about the age difference between us for the first time since I met her. I’m almost twice her age—old enough to be her father, for fuck’s sake. But honestly, it just doesn’t feel like it. She’s got an old soul. She has a wisdom that’s not common in girls her age. Her maturity makes it easy for me to forget about the age difference.
“Do you ever think about it?” I ask. “The fact that I’m significantly older than you?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t.”
