“I don’t like worms, Mommy.”
“Have you ever been fishing, Chase?”
He shakes his head no, and once again I think of the cottage. Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Cole texted me yesterday. All the guys are going to the beach for the next couple weeks. There will be a couple kids there as well.”
“Are you going?” she asks.
“I don’t know. Just putting it out there. I thought Chase—”
“Oh, you’re asking if we want to go.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
She glances at me over the rim of her mug. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I have so much to do to get this place ready. But you should go, be with the guys.”
“We’ll see.” Why the hell am I so disappointed when I thought it was a bad idea anyway?
Chase squirms on the counter. “I’m hungry.”
“Okay, little man,” I say. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
I grab a pan, heat it and pour the batter in. Soon enough we’re all sitting around the table, and Chase points to the ink on my arms.
“What is that?” he asks and for a brief second I fear he’s pointing to the scratch marks Fallon left on my body.
I glance down. “What’s what?”
“That,” he says and points to the tattoo of the Stanley Cup.
“This is because our hockey team won a few years back. It’s called the Stanley Cup.” I take a bite of food and wash it down with a swig of coffee. “Have you ever played hockey, Chase?”
He shakes his head no, and it crushes me. Ethan had about as much interest in hockey as I do in ballet. But what’s really bothering me is Chase is going to grow up without a strong male influence and the fact that he’s going to miss out on so much. I don’t want to get involved. Fuck knows I’d only end up letting them down, but maybe I could take him to the rink, let him try it, at least once.
I cast Fallon a quick look. “It might not hurt for him to go to the rink.”
She smiles at me. “I’d be okay with you taking him.”
“If he likes it, you could sign him up in the fall.”
“I could do that,” she says, grinning at me like the cat that ate the canary. What is that all about?
“More coffee?” I ask.
“Sure.”
I grab her cup and fill her up. We make small talk as we finish breakfast, and once the dishes are cleared, and Chase is off playing with his toys, I grip her hand, tug her to me.
“Last night,” I begin, her body so close to mine it’s all I can do to keep a coherent thought. “It was—”
“Amazing.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, that it was, but I said things I probably shouldn’t have.”
“You aren’t the only one.” She bites her lip and glances down.
That gives me pause. I don’t want to delve into the personal here, but I suspect it’s a bit too late for that. “Can I ask you a question? If you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to.”
Nodding, she gathers her hair in her hand, pulls an elastic from her wrist and ties it up, exposing the long column of her neck. My mind goes back to last night, to the way I buried my face in that hollow of her throat as I came inside her. I fight down a growl of longing, and work to pull myself together.