Becca turned her attention from my sister and knelt down so she was Hamish’s height.
“Let’s see, you look like a Hamish to me. Is that right?”
He gave her a wide, gap-toothed grin. “That’s me. Hamish William McCullough.”
“My, that’s a big name.”
“It’s twenty-three letters.”
Becca made a show of pretending to count them. “It sure is.”
“So, are you having a baby?”
Becca shook her head. “No, no babies.”
Hamish wrinkled up his face. “Aw, Mum. You told me I’d get a cousin.”
“I said perhaps you would get a cousin. Eventually.” I could see the embarrassment on my sister’s face. She sent me an apologetic glance and then mouthed, “I’m so sorry,” before ushering the children away and leaving Becca and me alone.
“This place is so much different from what I expected.” Becca smiled as she took in our surroundings.
“What did you expect?”
“I didn’t think it would be something so close to a castle. I was expecting a modest house in the city.”
“No, we’re country folk. My family has always been. We like the wide open spaces and the rolling hills.”
“Are you happy living in such close quarters, then? In cities like you have been?”
“I don’t mind it if it means I get to play hockey. I’ll live anywhere.”
“What if you got traded to somewhere new and hated it?”
“Then I’d do a lot of traveling in the off-season.”
“And what about if you fell in love with a place and didn’t want to leave?”
She didn’t know it, but she was hitting every one of my pain points. I swallowed down the unease. “Then I’d hope never to be traded.”
“Is that realistic?”
“Not usually, but some people stay on teams for most of their career.”
I took her by the hand and led her up the stairs, following the long hallway until I found the door to the bedroom where I grew up.
“Fair warning, hen. This may still be a shrine to sixteen-year-old Taylor.”
“Oh, am I going to find Playboys hidden under your mattress?”
“No, but you might find posters of Wayne Gretzky everywhere.”
Her smile was magnetic. And it made me wish I could kiss her. Instead I took that opportunity to reach out and tuck the stray lock of hair behind her ear. “He’s like the Michael Jordan of hockey, right?”
A bark of laughter left me, and I nodded. “I guess you could say that.”
I opened the door and was surprised and a little disappointed to find Mum had redecorated. Instead of a small single bed with Star Wars sheets and posters of my favorite hockey teams, the room was modern, with a queen-size bed, a plush rug, even a small chair near the window with a bookcase next to it and a cozy reading lamp.
“I was promised Wayne Gretzky.”