Page 41 of Slap Shot Surprise
“Will you stay in your house?”
“Yes. There’s plenty of room for me and a baby there.And it’s close to my dad and his wife—he’s remarried now—and not too far from my other siblings.”
“We should probably talk about finances,” I said. “I want to support you.”
“We can work all that out later.” She reached for her water bottle and took a sip. “For now, I think we just need to get used to the idea...and maybe get to know each other.”
“Okay.” My stomach growled then, a long, deep groan.
“Whoa.” She laughed. “Are you hungry?”
“I guess. What about you?”
“My stomach is a little off at this time of day, but I should eat dinner eventually.”
“Do you want to go out?” I saw her hesitate at the idea, and to be honest, I didn’t really feel like going to a restaurant around here either. I’d be recognized, and the internet might gossip about me being seen with a date. “Or we could just stay here. Get takeout. Or I could cook.”
She shrank back a little, her eyebrows rising. “You cook?”
“My dad taught me how to make a few things. Do you like spaghetti?”
“Yes.”
“Perfect. It’s settled.”
She followed me to the kitchen. “Can I help?”
“Nope,” I said, going to the freezer to pull out some ground beef for the Bolognese. “Just grab a counter stool and talk to me.”
Laughing, she slid onto a stool and propped her elbows on the marble island. “That I can do. Talking is my specialty.”
I made us pasta and salad and garlic bread, and she ate some of everything with no complaints about carbs or gluten. We talked about the family recipes, the fundraiser she was organizing, the upcoming hockey season, each other’s siblings and their kids. I made an effort to pay attention to names, although she had a pretty big family, so it was hard to remember them all.
She had a lot of questions for me. “What’s your middle name?”
“Thomas. It’s my mother’s maiden name.”
“Where did you go to college?”
“Notre Dame.”
“What did you study?”
“Business.”
We didn’t talk much about the baby or how this was going to work, but I was glad for that. I needed some time to process.
Afterward, she offered to do the dishes and help clean up the kitchen, but I could see how tired she was and told her I’d handle it.
“Thanks,” she said, yawning as I walked her to the door. “That long drive wore me out.”
“I’m tired too, and I didn’t even make that drive.”
“Well, today was a lot—forbothof us.” At the door, she faced me with a serious expression. “Thanks for being so understanding.”
I grimaced. “I’m not sure you should be thanking me for anything.”
“But I feel grateful. You could have turned out to be a big jerk.”
