Just as Margo begins to turn the handle, the door opens, revealing a woman who looks a lot like her standing on the other side. She’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and she’s got her dark blonde hair tied back in a messy bun. She beams when she sees Margo, who goes in right away for a hug.
“I thought I heard voices out here,” the woman says. She throws her head back and calls into the next room. “Mom, it’s Margo!”
“Ow!” Margo winces, pulling away from the hug. “You yelled that in my ear.”
“Sorry, sis,” the woman says. Guessing that this must be Heather, and I push my shoulders back and step forward to shake her hand. She smiles broadly when she notices me. “And you must be the mystery man. Welcome.”
“Heather,” Margo says as I take her sister’s hand in mine. “This is Noah. Noah, this is my sister Heather.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” I tell her.
“You too,” she replies before smiling at her sister. Margo widens her eyes in response, and I have a feeling there’s some sort of sister telepathy going on here that I’m not privy to. Clearly, the two women have communicated a lot with just a short exchange of facial expressions, but since I have no way of knowing what’s been silently said about me, I try to ignore it and remain calm.
“I’m really happy to be here,” I say as I step over the threshold and shut the door behind me. “Thanks for having me.”
“Of course.” Heather gestures us deeper into the house, chuckling. “Thanks for braving our shenanigans.”
Just then, a group of unruly kids comes running down the hallway. One of them slips on his socks and nearly goes crashing down to the floor. I reach out and catch him at the last second, putting him back on his feet, and then he’s off again as if nothing happened.
“Nice reflexes,” Margo’s sister says with a nod of approval. “You got kids of your own, or what?”
“No,” I tell her with a laugh. “It’s just necessary to have good reflexes in my line of work.”
“What exactly do you do—”
“Oh my god! That’s Noah Blake!”
Heather’s question is cut off by the sound of a man’s voice coming from the other room. I look to my right with a sheepish smile as two men who look to be about my age walk over with shocked expressions.
“Margo,” one of them says. “Do you mind telling me why you just walked into the house with the captain of the Denver Aces trailing behind you?”
“Derek,” Margo says, pointing to the man on the left. “Noah is my… date. Noah, this is my brother Derek, and my cousin Frank.”
Derek gapes as Frank reaches out a tentative hand and stutters his way through an introduction. “It’s—it’s so good to meet you, man. You’re one of my favorite players. I never miss an Aces game, and I just—I—wow. I can’t believe you’re here, and that you’re dating little cousin Margo.”
I flash her a quick smile, then look back at the guys. “I’m just happy to be invited. It’s nice to meet both of you.”
“Would you mind taking a picture with me?” Frank asks. “And maybe signing a few things for my buddies at work?”
“Okay, okay,” Heather interjects, stepping into the middle of the group. “Let’s allow our guest to get something to drink and settle in before we bombard him with fan requests, okay?” She motions with her hand for Margo and me to follow her as she heads down the hallway toward what I’m guessing is the kitchen. “Come this way. My parents are dying to meet you.”
In the kitchen, there’s a woman bent over the stove, her hand on her hip, shaking her head. “No, it’s not the right consistency. Damn, why is caramel so hard to make?”
“I told you, honey, we don’t need any caramel. We’ve already got chocolate sauce and whipped cream,” says the older gentleman sitting at the kitchen table.
“Dad’s right,” Heather puts in as we enter. “We’ve got plenty of toppings for the cake and ice cream, Mom. Plus, all the guests are now here, so you really should poke your head out of the kitchen and make an appearance at your own party.”
“It’s not my party,” the woman says, turning around. “It’s Josh’s party.”
Heather and Margo share yet another look. I can definitely see the resemblance between them, not just in physical features, but in their expressions. Heather is a bit shorter than Margo and has a more angular face, but no one would ever mistake them for anything but sisters.
“Whatever you say, Mom,” Heather agrees. Then she steps aside so that I can come into full view. “The point is, there are people here I know you’re going to want to meet. Like this man, for example.”
Margo clears her throat, stepping up beside me. “Mom, Dad, this is Noah.”
“Noah!” Margo’s dad gets up from his chair with an audible groan and walks over to me. I shake his hand firmly and look him right in the eye. “Good to meet you, son.”
“You too, sir.”
“Noah.” Her mother comes over and opens her arms for a hug. “Oh, I like that name.”
“Thanks,” I say as she puts her arms around my shoulders and pats me on the back.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’m a hugger.”
“Not at all.”
She lets one hand rest on my shoulder as we break apart, smiling with her whole face. She’s a beautiful woman, and I can tell right away where Margo gets her good looks. But as she stares at me, her smile begins to fade and is quickly replaced by a hesitant frown. “Wait a second, do I know you?”
“I sure hope you would, Mom.” Derek jerks his head in my direction as he enters the kitchen from another room. “That man is a hockey superstar.”
“Is that so?” Margo’s dad glances between his son and me.
“Well…” I rub the back of my neck. “I don’t know about that, Mr. Lucas—”
“Ah.” He stops me, holding a finger up in the air. “Don’t call me Mr. Lucas, please. You can call me Jim.”
“And don’t you even think about referring to me as anything other than Carol,” adds Margo’s mom.
“Alright then, Jim and Carol. Thank you so much for inviting me into your home,” I say. “I really appreciate it. And I know I was added to the guest list at the last minute, so please don’t feel like you need to go to any extra fuss for me.”
“Fuss? Who’s fussing?” Carol waves a hand as she goes back to her station by the stove and resumes her fretting over the caramel.
“Why don’t you have a seat, Noah?” Jim asks. “I’ll get you a beer.”
Margo and I both sit down at the kitchen table, and Heather and Derek stand off to the side. Jim grabs three beers from the fridge and hands one to me, one to his daughter, and takes one for himself. He leans back in his chair and opens the can, taking a sip and exhaling loudly.
“So,” he says after a few seconds. “You say you’re not a hockey superstar. Then what do you do for a living?”
“Oh, well, I am a hockey player,” I say. “That much is true.”
“He plays for the Aces,” Margo chimes in. “Which is why the two of us haven’t been as… open about our relationship. Neither of us wants to get in trouble at our jobs.”
“I see.” Jim purses his lips, nodding. “And will this relationship cause trouble? Down the line, I mean, is there a chance that Margo could lose her job if someone finds out you two have been dating in secret?”
“Dad.” Margo glares at him. “It’s not that dramatic. Nobody is going to get fired.”
“Jim,” Carol hisses, shooting her husband a look. “You leave those two kids alone. I’m sure they know what they’re doing, and besides, you’re bringing down the mood with talk of people losing their jobs.”
“It’s okay, Mrs. Luc—I mean, Carol,” I say. “I understand why you two would be nervous, but I promise you, I would never let them fire Margo. We’re mainly being cautious with who we tell because it’s easier this way, that’s all.”
“You hear that, Jim? They have everything under control,” Carol says, smiling at me. “Now, you guys get out of here and get some food. Everything is set out in the living room, and Margo, your aunt Theresa has been asking about you all day, so make sure you find her and say hello.”
“Okay, I will,” Margo says as she gets up from her chair and pulls on my elbow.
I nod once at her parents, thank them again for inviting me, and follow her out of the kitchen. In the living room, I notice right away that some of the people gathered know who I am, and when I overhear Frank say my name to a group of men in the corner, I figure I probably have about five seconds before I’m bombarded with questions about hockey and the Denver Aces.
Margo must pick up on that as well, because she snatches a plate and fills it up with food, then hands it to me and whispers, “Here’s some fuel to get you through the next hour or so, and sorry in advance for my cousins. They’re going to start hounding you for a lot more than autographs soon. Get ready to turn down a lot of requests for free tickets and jerseys.”
“Why would I turn them down?” I say with a grin. “I’ve got plenty of free tickets I can give away.”
She smiles back, but before she can say anything, I feel a hand on my shoulder and an older gentleman with graying hair and wrinkles by his eyes pulls me in.
“Hi,” he says. “I’m Margo’s uncle George, and word on the street is, you play in the NHL.”
Margo mouths the words ‘good luck’ as the man steers me away from the food table, and I let him. I glance over at her again as she too is pulled away by a woman she greets as Aunt Theresa, and we share a parting smile.
I spend the next forty five minutes standing at one end of the cozy, warm living room, talking to Margo’s uncle, cousin, and brother about hockey stats and who I think has a chance at the Stanley Cup this year. She’s not far away, tucked into a corner a few feet to my right, chatting quietly with her sister and aunt. Every once in a while, we make eye contact, and I feel lucky as hell to be here with her and her loved ones.
This house is clean and inviting, but not so clean that it doesn’t feel as if people actually live here. And everyone I’ve met so far has greeted me with a genuine smile. This party is nothing like the ones I experienced as a child, and I’m honestly a little distracted by the hubbub of happy voices and laughter that surrounds me.
After a while, I rejoin Margo and her sister, who are deep in discussion about someplace called New Horizons.
“It’s a women’s shelter in town,” Margo tells me, pride clear in her voice as she adds, “Heather works there. She helps them organize fundraisers and distribute supplies, helping women get access to therapy or addiction services if they need it.”
“Yeah. Although that might be changing soon,” Heather says with a sigh.
Margo frowns. “What do you mean?”
“We didn’t raise enough money at the last two events. It’s looking very likely that the shelter is going to have to shut down sometime in the next couple of months.”
“Oh, no.” Margo looks stricken, lifting a hand to her mouth. I’m about to ask where the shelter is when we’re interrupted by a small voice, and a little girl appears behind Heather’s leg.
“Mommy! Mommy!” the girl says, throwing her hands above her head. “I want up!”
Heather bends down and scoops the girl into her arms, then buries her face in her daughter’s neck and blows a raspberry. The little girl laughs and screams, then laughs some more, and Margo reaches out to push some hair out of her face.
“Hey, Apes,” she says. “Why didn’t you come over and say hi sooner? I was wondering where you were.”
But the girl is barely paying attention to Margo anymore. She’s got her eyes fixed on me, and she seems a little alarmed by my presence.
“April, can you say hi?” Heather asks. “This is Auntie Margo’s friend. Can you say hello?”
Instead of speaking, April looks away from me and rests her head on her mom’s chest.
Margo laughs and slides her hand into mine. “She can be a little shy with strangers. She’ll warm up, just give her a bit.”
“I’m sorry to hear about the shelter,” I tell Heather, resuming our earlier conversation.
“Yeah, me too.” She grimaces, adjusting her grip on her daughter. “We thought we might be able to pull the money together at the last minute, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to be the case.”
“How much time do you have?” Margo asks.
“It really just depends on how many women and children come in as the weather gets colder. Our resources could last a few months, or a few weeks.” She switches April from one hip to the other, and then the kid wriggles out of her arms entirely, and Heather sets her down on her feet once more. “Why don’t you go find your cousins and play?” Heather suggests, but her daughter shakes her head.
“No?” Margo asks. “Well, do you want me to play with you?”
Again, April shakes her head. Then she looks up at me and holds a hand out. I pause, looking to Margo for guidance, but she just laughs. “I guess she’s made her choice.”
I take April’s hand, and she starts to pull me away. I glance over my shoulder as I’m being dragged into the other room, feeling a little alarmed by this, but neither Margo nor Heather seem worried. They both just smile and wave as we disappear into the crowd. April takes me all the way across the hall and into a quieter room on the other side of the house. There are a few other kids sitting in the corner watching a movie, and one woman on the couch nearby, scrolling on her phone and tuning into the film every once in a while.
April brings me over to the back of the room, where a little plastic table is set up with teacups and fake food. She sits down on the floor and points to the spot across from her. “You sit there.”
“Okay,” I say with a chuckle. I make myself as comfortable as I can on the floor, and then she hands me a purple tiara.
“This one is yours.”
She then proceeds to put a pink tiara on her own head and starts to mimic pouring tea out of the pot and into our respective cups. I place the tiara on my head and look around to see if anyone is watching me. I feel a little silly, but it’s not like I’m about to ruin all the fun.
“What kind of tea is this?” I ask, picking up the cup and pretending to smell what’s inside.
“Peppermint,” she answers decisively.
“Oh, yum.”
“And we have cookies too.” She hands me a plate of fake treats, and I take the one shaped like a chocolate chip cookie and put it on my plate.
“Thank you,” I tell her. “You have very good table manners.”
She smiles, then takes a fake sugar cookie and puts it on the plate in front of her. “My name is April,” she says after a while.
“I thought it might be.” I grin. “Your aunt has told me a lot about you. My name is Noah.”
“You’re friends with Auntie Margo?”
“That’s right,” I say. She takes a sip of her fake tea, so I do the same, then close my eyes and act like it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. “Mmm, that’s delicious! Can I have some more?”
She brightens and pours more ‘tea’ into my cup. “This time, it’s pink tea.”
“Pink tea? What does pink tea taste like?”
“Like pink.”
I smack my forehead. “Ah, of course. I should’ve known.”
She laughs brightly, her eyes big and round. “You’re funny. I like you better than Auntie Margo’s other friend.”
“Her other friend?”
She nods, sticking her tongue out a little in thought. “Yeah, I met him before. He didn’t want to play with me.”
“Well, that’s just rude.”
“And he forgot my name.”
“He what?” I make my eyes go wide. “That’s ridiculous! How could he forget your name? April is the best month of the year!”
“My mommy says so too. She says she named me April because I’m as pretty as a flower.”
“She’s right.”
April grows quiet for a bit after that, so I keep on pretending to drink my tea and wait for her to say something else. I’ve always liked kids, but I haven’t spent a lot of time around them, so I’m a little unsure of how to fill the silence. My tiara slips off my head a couple of times, but I’m quick to reattach it. Not long after that, she reaches underneath the table and pulls out a packet of stickers, then asks if I want one.
“You’d share your stickers with me?” I ask.
“Sure. You can have… this one.” She peels a sticker of a sparkly blue horse from the page and hands it to me.
“Where should I stick it?”
She shrugs, her little shoulders rising and falling. “I don’t know.”
“Does it look good here?” I slap the sticker onto the side of my face, and this makes her laugh so hard she nearly falls backward. “What?” I ask, laughing along. “Does it not look good there? I thought it would look great taking up half my face.”
“They’re for your stuff. Not your body. Like this.” She takes another sticker and puts it on her plastic tea cup.
“Oh, I see.” I peel the sticker off my face and hold it on my finger for a second. “But these cups aren’t mine, so if I put it on one of these, then I’ll have to leave it behind when I go. What if I put it on… this?” I take out my phone and flip it over. I have a very practical, very boring black case protecting the device, and there’s just enough space on the back for the big blue horse. “I’ll put it on here. That way I’ll get to see it every day.”
April is grinning ear to ear as she watches me smooth out the sticker onto the back of my phone, and I hold it up for her to see.
“See? Fits perfectly,” I declare.
“It looks pretty.” She gazes at it for a couple seconds, then tucks her chin into her chest like she’s embarrassed and murmurs, “Do you think Auntie Margo is pretty?”
I smile. Oh man, kid. If you only knew. “Yeah. I think she’s very pretty.”
“Are you going to marry her?”
The question comes out of nowhere, taking me by surprise—but what’s even more shocking is the fact that I don’t have an answer for her right away. If we were talking about any other woman besides Margo, my answer would be obvious. I’d probably respond to the girl’s question before she even got the chance to finish her sentence, and the response would be a combination of laughter and vehement head shaking. Before I met Margo, I never once thought about settling down and getting married.
But now… things have changed.
“That’s a good question,” I hear myself saying after taking a moment to collect my thoughts. “I don’t know if Margo and I will get married. But it’s possible.”
April’s face lights up. “I hope you do! Otherwise, she might marry that other guy, and he’s a dummy.”
I’m not sure her mom would approve of her calling someone a dummy, but as far as I’m concerned, she’s right. So I chuckle and hold my cup out. “Cheers to that.”
She frowns at my hand, scrunching her nose up. “You’re doing it wrong.”
“I am?”
“Pinky up.” She shows me by lifting her own cup in the air and keeping her pinky separate from the rest of her fingers. I mimic the motion, and she nods. “Yeah, like that.”
Then we share a smile, clink our plastic tea cups together, and sip our delicious pink-flavored tea.
