“That was probably my error,” Lauren admitted. “I had her fetch something out of my bag, and I think she saw my vitamins.”
“Good going, slick,” Mike said, squeezing her hand. “And after you swore me to secrecy.”
“I know! I’m sorry.”
He just smiled. “It had to come out at some point.” He let go of her hand to cut another bite of his steak. Then he picked up her glass of wine and took a sip. “You won’t be needing this.”
“Sadly, no. Are you going to have a chat with Elsa? I don’t mind doing it.”
He smiled. “I got it. I’m giving her a few minutes, first. And I’m going to eat my steak. Then I’m going to tell my little girl how much I love her.”
“You’re very calm about this.”
Chewing, he glanced up the staircase. “Not always. But no goalie has ever had a hundred percent save rate.”
“What?”
“It’s just something I tell myself sometimes.” He reached over and gave her knee a squeeze.
Goalies, Lauren smiled to herself. So calm in the hailstorm of life. She tried to imagine what life would be like a year from now. No—two years. There’d be a high chair pulled up to the table. Even if their toddler was throwing peas on the floor and Elsa was having a teenage meltdown, Mike would be smiling at her over the rim of his wineglass, weathering the storm. She felt a rush of love for this man and his easy smile.
“The pasta salad is excellent,” Mike said to Hans.
“Danke.”
Lauren stabbed an olive with her fork and felt tears in her eyes. Damn pregnancy hormones. But today they were tears of joy.
She’d take it.
THIRTY
On his way up to Elsa’s room fifteen minutes later, he paused to grab a photo album from the bookshelf underneath the TV. Tucking it under his arm, he took the stairs two at a time and then tapped on Elsa’s door.
“Come in,” she grumbled from the bed.
He sat down beside her. Could be worse, he noticed. She wasn’t crying, but rather watching a YouTube video of bears invading someone’s backyard pool. And when she looked up at him, her expression was sheepish. “I shouldn’t have gone on that rant,” she said. “But I’m really having a day, you know?”
“I do know.” He leaned back against her headboard and opened the photo album on his lap.
“You guys never said it out loud, but everyone always whispered about Mom. That she was the pregnant girl at her high school graduation.”
“She was,” Mike admitted. “I’m sure that wasn’t easy on her. Look.” He’d opened the album to his favorite baby picture of Elsa. She was maybe six months old, and wearing a tiny hockey jersey. He was skating across a practice rink with her tucked under his arm. They were both smiling widely. “You were so stinkin’ cute. I loved it when you and Mom came to the rink so I could show you off.”
He flipped the pages slowly. Elsa wearing a paper birthday hat, with icing all over her face. Elsa on her mother’s lap, reading a bedtime story. The three of them smiling up at the camera from a picnic blanket, Elsa seated on Mike’s thigh, using his body like a lounge chair.
Preschool-aged Elsa, dressed up like an Ewok for Halloween, Mike as Hans Solo and Shelly as Princess Leia.
“Holy crap we look ridiculous,” Elsa said, but she was smiling.
He put an arm around her. “I love being your dad. Always have. That’s not an accident.”
She laid her cheek against his shoulder and said nothing.
He turned another page. Elsa’s first day of kindergarten, holding Mike’s hand on the way into school on Long Island. Elsa wearing tap shoes and a purple tutu for a dance recital. Elsa holding her very first violin and a stubby looking bow.
Shelly hugging Elsa, her eyes closed, a look of pure joy on her face.
Beside him, Elsa sniffled.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the baby yet,” he whispered. “We only found out six days ago.”
Elsa picked her head up. “Really?”
“Really. And Lauren is worried she’ll have a miscarriage. That happens a lot, I guess. But if Lauren lost this baby, we’d try again. It wasn’t an accident, just like you and I aren’t an accident.”
Elsa made a noise of disbelief, the sort that only a teenager can pull off.
“Your mom and I didn’t get our timing right,” he said softly. “It didn’t help things between us. But there has never been a single day when I didn’t want to be your dad. And if this baby makes its way into the world next winter, the same will be true for him.”
“Or her,” Elsa whispered.
“Or her. Or them.”
“Them?”
“It could be twins. You never know.”
“I like babies,” Elsa said, sounding teary.
“So do I.” He tucked her closer to his chest. “And grumpy teenagers. Hans put a cover over your plate so your pasta salad won’t get dried out.”
“That was nice of him.”
“Yes, it was.”
“If you marry Lauren, Hans will move out, won’t he?”
“Probably,” Mike admitted. “I don’t have a road map, Els. Lauren and I have a lot of things to figure out.”
“When are you getting married?” Elsa demanded. “You have to. For the baby.”
He laughed. “What other advice do you have for me? Shall I take notes?”
She elbowed him, and he laughed again. “Are we still going to France at the end of June?”
“Absolutely,” he said. Whatever changes were coming, there was no need to call off the vacation he and Elsa had been planning for a year.
“Is Lauren coming with us?”
He had to think about that. “She has to go on a business trip to China with Nate. By the way—please don’t tell a soul that Lauren is pregnant, okay? It’s too early to tell people. And her boss doesn’t know. She’ll choose the right time to tell him.”
“China? Wow. Is Lauren going to keep working for Nate after the baby is born?”
“Elsa,” he laughed. “I don’t . . .”
“. . . Know,” she finished. “Got it. There’s a lot you don’t know, though. Just saying.”
He grinned up at her ceiling. “That’s always been true. Thank you for pointing it out, honey. I love that.”
“Just doing my job.”
Mike smiled. “Can we just take it a day at a time, kid? Planning has never really worked for me. But don’t slack off on the French homework because I’m counting on you to ask directions if we get lost in Paris.”
“I can’t wait to see Cirque du Soleil, and visit all the cafes. And the shops. And the Tour Eiffel.”
“We’re going to do that right after I win the Stanley Cup, okay?”
“I thought you didn’t like to make plans,” his daughter teased.
“Only for that.” He put his fingertips at the side of her ribcage and tickled her.
She resisted mightily for a moment, until a giggle busted out. “Daddy stop it!”
“Nope.”
She shrieked, and he knew she’d be okay.
? ? ?
Two nights later, Lauren, Elsa, and Hans watched from seats just behind the penalty box as Brooklyn lost to Dallas in game three of the finals. Brooklyn took the game all the way into overtime with a 1–1 score, but Dallas got lucky with an unlikely bounce, disappointing all the local fans.
Lauren missed the next game, because it was on the same evening as her graduation.