Page 128 of Edging Coach
He arched an eyebrow.
Is he going to give me another lecture about the origins of pizza? Man, Americans are so touchy about that.
“And what, precisely, are you having?”
“Canadian.” I puffed out my chest. “Pepperoni, bacon, and mushrooms.”
This time, he made a face. “Fungi grown in shit.”
“Very healthy.”
“So’s pineapple.”
I grabbed his hips, rotated him carefully, swatted his ass, then gently shoved him toward the bathroom. “I think there’s a robe in there. Go ahead and grab it. As you know, we had a practice earlier. Game’s tomorrow night.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “I know. I know everything.” He grabbed his bag and headed into the bathroom.
Not everything.
I took out my phone and placed my order. Then I called the front desk. They were very understanding about me ordering from outside. The hotel kitchen made a pizza—and I was certain it would be delicious—but I needed comfort. Domino’s had been Mom’s favorite. Rarely could we afford the treat. But when we could? We savored each bite of the deep-dish goodness.
When I’d come to Abbotsford, I tried some of the local joints. All great. Just…not the pizza I associated with home. That I would now always associate with Jack.
The sound of the shower running should’ve done something to my libido. Jack naked. Water sluicing down him.
Me taking him in there. Literally hazardous to our health, but still tempting. Bathtub accidents were a thing. That was why I loved the shower in my condo in Abbotsford. Except Jack had never seen it.
He’d never seen the hotel in Vancouver either.
One-way contract.
God. Would Vancouver really do that? Give me what I’d always wanted? That would mean I could give up the rental in Abbotsford and rent in Vancouver. Hell, if I was careful with the money, I might even be able to buy a small condo. Huge mortgage…but something I could start to call my own. For the first time ever. I’d only ever rented. Or lived in a foster home. I’d never been in a position to put my name on a deed and call the place mine.
“You okay?”
I pivoted to see Jack emerging from the bathroom with his bag in one hand and a pile of clothes in the other.
“Fine.” I pointed to the clothes. “Do you want to send them for cleaning?”
He shook his head. “They were clean yesterday, and as much as air travel sucks, they’re okay.”
And you need to be able to leave at a moment’s notice, and you can’t do that if your clothes are somewhere else.I pushed that thought aside and gestured to the dresser. “Plenty of space.”
“You’re always so neat.” When he moved to put his clothes in the dresser, the front of the bathrobe dipped, and I glimpsed that magnificent chest hair I loved so much. With flecks of gray that caught the light.
I blinked. “Neat?”
“Yeah. Plenty of guys just drop their suitcases and live out of them. Too much hassle to keep packing and unpacking.”
“Mom.”
He closed the dresser drawer. “I wondered.”
I shrugged. “There’s plenty to say, but I keep it bottled up inside.”
“You shared some while we were in Tofino.”
I told you the easy stuff. The happy memories.Not what I went through as she slowly lost control of her body. About what happened the day she left our home and just never came back.I honestly couldn’t say how, as a twelve-year-old, I’d endured that. How I’d been mature about it. How I’d never complained. Grieved? Yes. Broken down? No. “Maybe one day. Pizza will be here in a few minutes.”
