herself into a sitting position there.
“We always had a cook,” she said. “And it wasn’t one of those funny, sweet maternal women you read about in books. My mom actually had trouble keeping cooks because she was so particular. And then I went to boarding school when I was twelve.”
I thought about myself at that age. “That’s pretty young to leave home.”
She shrugged. “It was mostly a home of staff. For a woman who didn’t work, my mom kept herself really busy. You know, charity work, boards of directors . . . anything to avoid spending time with her children.”
Her nervous laugh belied the pain behind her statement. I thought about my mom. She’d taken me to movies, sledding, swimming, hiking . . . almost every weekend we weren’t busy with my hockey had been filled with another adventure.
I’d been bitter for a long time over her being taken away too soon, but something she’d said close to the end came back to me. “I wanted more time with my son the man, but I got every minute of him as a boy. And those were the best times of my life.” She’d squeezed my hand and smiled as she’d spoken, looking content. For the first time, I now understood her words. She’d been a good mom, the best. That had given her peace at the end. I was starting to feel the same sense of peace in myself.
“Do you spend any time with her now?” I asked Sid of her mom.
“We do spa days once a month. At least we did when I was in New York full time. And she asks me to lunch and includes me in her charity work. I think some people just don’t know what to do with children, and she’s one of them. It’s a lot better now that I’m an adult.”
I slid a golden pancake on a plate and grabbed the batter, pouring my next one into the skillet.
“Do you want kids someday?” I asked.
Her laugh was humorless. “I don’t know. I work a lot. I don’t want to be an absentee mom like my own was.”
“But do you want them? Wanting them and deciding whether it’s a practical option are two different things.”
“I’d like to hope it’s possible.”
I shook my head and smiled. “You’re the best I’ve ever seen at not saying yes or no. You’d make a great politician.”
She wrinkled her face with distaste. “Ugh. Never. The answer’s yes. Yes, I want kids. What about you?”
“Yeah. I’d love half a dozen little boys I could wrestle with. Teach ’em how to pee standing up. All that good stuff. And hockey, of course.”
“What if you got half a dozen little girls?” she asked, amused.
“Shit, I don’t know.”
“Girls can play hockey.” Her tone had a hint of defensiveness.
“Of course they can.” I patted her knee in apology. “I just wouldn’t know what to do with girls.”
“The same things you’d do with boys. Other than the peeing standing up.”
I considered. “I guess you’re right. I’d be cool with girls until puberty. Until they started dating.”
“I’m making mimosas to go with the pancakes,” she said, sliding down from the counter. “And you look absolutely sick right now, by the way. Standing in front of the stove wearing nothing but suit pants. You’re so damn hot.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling.
She focused on the drinks and my mind wandered back to my mom. What would she have thought of Sidney? They were alike in a lot of ways. Both strong and confident. Both loyal and caring. Mom would’ve liked seeing me with a woman who knew there was nothing she couldn’t handle. A woman who picked me up when I was down. Who made me forget other women even existed.
Sidney popped a glass into my hand and I sipped the sweet drink.
“That’s really good,” I said.
If the guys could see me now, sipping an orange juice and champagne cocktail while making pancakes while they were out drinking beer and eating steaks . . . I’d never live this shit down. Sid and I were at her place because I couldn’t ask her to come out with us after games and keep our secret safe. But I was shocked by my own realization that I preferred this to a macho evening with the team. Being alone with her was better than taking her to a crowded bar. Tomorrow morning I’d wake up well rested, with her in my arms, instead of hung over on my couch.
This fast track