I’m pushing a cart down the pasta aisle of the grocery store when Mom halts in front of me. She turns to the wall of pasta bags and boxes and cocks a hip.
“Spaghettini or spaghetti?”
“Is there a difference?”
An audible gasp. “Don’t let your grandfather hear you speak like that. You know how he loves our Italian roots.”
“That’s a stretch. I’m like an eighteenth Italian, Mom,” I point out, heaving a sigh.
She looks at me over her shoulder and scowls. “That’s because your father muddled your blood.”
That gives me pause. The ground shifts slightly beneath my feet.
We don’t speak about my father—ever. Scratch that, I wouldn’t even refer to him as my father at this point. As far as I’m concerned, he’s nothing more than a sperm donor. How else would you describe a man who knocked his girlfriend up and then took off only a year after she had the baby? We’re better off without him.
However, I’m not sure if I should be concerned about her sudden slip of tongue. My mom would rather drink dish soap than speak about him.
When I don’t answer, she looks back to the shelf, humming. “What about lasagna? I could put the leftovers in the freezer. You can never have too much lasagna. Right, darling?”
“Right.”
She picks up a box of lasagna noodles and places them in the cart before continuing down the aisle. I follow behind her with the cart.
“Tell me how work is going,” she says while grabbing a can of crushed tomatoes. It falls into the cart with a clang. “How is your shoulder?”
“Slow down. Which question do you want me to answer first?” I chuckle.
“Work first.”
“Okay. Willow is amazing. But we’ve spent most of this week in the gym on the treadmills, and I know she wants to get back on the ice. She’s a great sport, though. Barely ever complains about anything.”
Endurance training is definitely not her favourite—nor is it anyone’s—but she knows how important it is. It won’t matter how fast she is if she’s down for the count too early.
“She sounds like you.” She says it so casually, like it’s obvious.
“She’s going to be better than me. She nearly already is.”
Mom scoffs so loud I worry the shoppers on the other side of the store heard her. “Nobody is better than you. You’ve always been far too humble.”
“It doesn’t matter how good I was, Mom. Can we talk about something else?” Preferably before I burst into tears in the middle of this store?
The cart almost catches her heels when she stops in front of me. This time, she flips around and glares at me with a ferocity that makes me wince.
“No, we can’t. You are as stubborn as a mule, Scarlett darling. That shoulder of yours might have been the end of your career, but you are the only thing keeping you from still having a successful future. You were meant for far more than just hockey. I wish you would stop thinking less of yourself because you’ve lost that.”
My fingers tingle from how hard I’ve been squeezing the cart. Her words sink into me, claws splayed, but I shake them off before I lose hold of my emotions.
“We need milk, right? I’ll go get it,” I say in a rush. Mom starts to protest, but I’m already leaving her and the cart behind.
My head is in shambles as I stalk through the store, keeping my eyes on the floor. I will away the burn behind them.
It’s easy for my mother to say all of this. It’s easy for everyone who has never felt this kind of loss before. Like a piece of you is just gone, disappeared into nothingness, leaving you empty and questioning where to go from here.
It isn’t as simple as it seems to just move on. Her heart might be in the right place, but it doesn’t really matter.
I quickly grab the milk before heading back. Worry is a prick in my stomach on the way. Mom has been doing fine on her own so far, but the potential of something happening to her when I’m not there is starting to become an issue. I’m half in my head all the time, questioning whether or not she’s okay.
I’m almost back where I left her when I hear a male voice. My heart jumps in my chest when I realize it’s Adam’s friendly vibrato.
“I’m not much of a cook myself, but Cooper is a great help.”
“What a sweetie,” Mom sings. “My Scarlett has never been much of a help in the kitchen. That is, unless I’m baking. She loves to lick the bowls right clean.”
Horrified, I pick up my pace and turn down the aisle. “Mom!” My steps falter when four sets of eyes fall on me. Mom shrugs as if she didn’t just say something incredibly embarrassing before turning back to the group of three.
My eyes gravitate to Adam, finding him watching me with a grin I feel low in my belly. He’s wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a plain navy T-shirt with white sneakers. His hair sticks out beneath the backward cap on his head and curls behind his ears.
He looks good. Really good.
“Hi, Scary Spice,” he greets me, voice soft and welcoming.
“Hey, Adam.”
We haven’t talked much since Willow caught us doing . . . whatever it was we were doing on Thursday morning. Friday’s therapy session was so awkward I was tempted to twist my shoulder the wrong way just so I could finish earlier.
Neither of us made any effort to talk about the day prior, so we just pretended nothing happened. The only thing wrong with that plan going forward is that something did happen. And I’m not sure if I can continue to pretend otherwise. Not when even being a grocery cart distance away from him in a crowded supermarket with my own mother as a witness can I keep the air between us from thickening with something I’m too scared to define.
“Scarlett, darling. Have you met Adam’s son and girlfriend yet? They were just telling me about their dinner plans.”
It’s like a bucket of cold water being dumped on my head.
His girlfriend? I chomp down on my tongue to avoid saying something I shouldn’t in front of his son. Jealousy threatens to tear my insides to ribbons.
It makes more sense as to why he didn’t say anything about our almost kiss when he saw me yesterday. Why mention something you so clearly want to forget?
Against my better judgment, I look at the woman standing beside him, one hand on the strap of her purse and the other fidgeting with her thick-rimmed glasses. She’s shorter than me and quite a bit shorter than Adam, but it fits her. Her hair is glossy and black and hangs well past her shoulders. She’s almost pixie-like. Adam is a giant beside her.
“No, I haven’t,” I answer with a calmness I sure as hell don’t feel. Lowering my eyes, I meet the stare of a young boy with a messy head of dark brown hair and eyes to match. They’re Adam’s eyes but more curious.
“Scarlett, this is my son, Cooper. Cooper, this is Scarlett. She’s a trainer at the rink and a friend of mine,” Adam says, and I have to bite back a laugh.
Friends? Not likely.
“Hi,” Cooper says with a quick wave. His cheeks are tinted a soft pink that makes him look even more adorable than he already is.
“Hi, Cooper.” My smile is more genuine now.
“And this is Beth,” Adam says. He’s looking right at me now. I can feel it. But I look elsewhere. “Cooper’s mother.”
“And not his girlfriend. Adam is too far out of my league,” says this Beth woman.
I try to hide the onslaught of relief I feel with a forced smile, but Adam only laughs, grinning like he knows something nobody else does. If it wasn’t already obvious that I didn’t like the idea of Beth being his girlfriend, it sure is now. Triumph flashes in his eyes.
Embarrassed that I let myself get jealous over a misunderstanding, my cheeks warm.
“Oh dear,” Mom mutters. She runs a frantic hand over the top of her hair, flattening it. “I’m sorry.”
Adam shakes his head. “No need to apologize, Amelia. It was an honest mistake.”
“My mom doesn’t get to spend a lot of time with us, but when she does, that usually always happens,” Cooper says.
I flinch. Adam watches me, a silent apology splattered across his face. Knowing that he doesn’t have anything to apologize for, I give my head a subtle shake.
I don’t know when it happened, but things between us got complicated. And it’s for reasons like this that we need to focus on uncomplicating them. He’s my boss. My much older boss. Hell, he’s standing across from me with his son on one side and the woman he had a baby with on the other.
I don’t belong in that lineup.
Steeling my spine, I find something on the cluttered shelves to focus on. A supreme taco kit? Looks great.
“We were actually trying to decide which flavour of ice cream to get for dessert tonight. Do either of you have any suggestions? We can never decide on one,” Adam says, swiftly changing the subject.
Mom slaps her hands together. “Call me old-fashioned, but I love strawberry.”
“What about you, Scarlett?” There’s something in his voice that has me stealing a glance at him. Something that makes goosebumps break out along my skin. It almost sounds like desperation.
“I like cookies and cream.”
“Me too!” Cooper cheers, high-fiving Adam. “What’s your second favourite?”
I pretend to think about it. “Bubble gum. What’s yours?”
He smiles proudly. “Bubble gum. But Dad doesn’t like it, so we neeever get it.”
“Hey! Don’t throw me under the bus. I don’t not like it,” Adam says, his eyes bright with amusement.
“I agree with you there,” Mom chimes in.
“You chew bubble gum all the time, though,” I blurt out, my cheeks warming.
Adam’s eyes find mine. He smirks. “You’ve noticed that?”
“Only because you’re a gum smacker,” I say, shrugging in hopes of coming off like I don’t really care.
His smirk only grows, and I know he doesn’t believe me. We both know he isn’t a gum smacker.
“I like regular bubble gum. It’s only the frozen stuff I don’t like.”
I save that information for later, knowing there’s no real reason for me to.
“Well, I think we should get a tub of each for dessert,” Beth suggests. She’s smiling at Cooper, her expression tender. It’s obvious she cares about her son deeply, so I wonder why she doesn’t see him often.
“Sick!” Cooper exclaims. He spins to face his dad. “That’s okay, right?”
“Yeah, kid. That’s okay.”
Cooper’s face lights up. “I’ll go grab them now. Be right back.” He takes off down the aisle.
“Be quick!” Adam calls as we watch his son disappear. When Cooper turns out of the aisle, Adam offers an apologetic smile to the rest of us. “Sorry about him. He seems to have left his manners at home.”
“That’s probably my fault.” Beth winces.
Mom slashes a hand through the air. “Nonsense. He seems like a very nice young man. Seeing excitement like that is a shot of pure serotonin. We need more of that in the world.”
I snort. “Okay, Mom. You’re getting philosophical again.”
“You’re so right, Amelia. It’s good for the soul,” Beth says.
Good for the soul? Ugh.
Adam smirks at me. “How’s your soul feeling right now, Scarlett?”
I narrow my eyes. “Like I’m the one who needs two buckets of ice cream.”
His laugh is loud and free. It hits me square in the chest, winding me. How can something so simple pack such a punch? I exhale when I realize that maybe Beth wasn’t entirely wrong in her statement.
My soul liked that laugh a bit too much.
I clear that thought from my head when Cooper comes running back down the aisle, his arms full of ice cream. Catching his breath, he drops both containers into their cart.
“Quick enough?” he asks Adam.
His dad chuckles and ruffles the top of his head. “Yeah, buddy.”
“Oh dear, is that the time?” Mom gasps. She has her watch lifted to about an inch from her face. “If I don’t get started on this lasagna quick, we won’t be eating until tomorrow morning.”
Relieved that I’m being handed an out, I say, “You’re right. We should head out now.”
“I hate to cut this chat short, but my daughter is right. It was lovely to see you two again and just as nice to meet you . . .” She trails off.
My shoulders drop immediately as I release a shaky breath. I reach for her hand and squeeze it tight, wishing I could push my memories through the embrace.
“Beth,” Beth blurts out. Confusion flashes across her face before it’s gone again. “It was great to meet you, Amelia.”
Mom smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Right. Yes.”
Surprise slams into me when Adam walks toward us and grabs both of my mom’s hands, including the one I’m currently squeezing too tightly. Tingles erupt at the point of contact, but it’s hard to focus on them when his thumb runs over my skin in long, soothing strokes.
He focuses on my mom with a soft expression. There’s no sign of pity or judgment anywhere on his face. My heart rattles my rib cage.
“I look forward to seeing and chatting with you again soon, Amelia. You’ll have to let me know how your lasagna turns out.” He winks, making Mom blush.
“I’ll do one better. Scarlett can bring some on Monday for you and Cooper,” she exclaims.
Adam grins. “We would love that. Thank you.”
The hand covering mine squeezes once more before moving away. I instantly miss the contact.
“I’ll see you on Monday, Scary Spice. Enjoy your weekend.”
My reply is far too breathy. “Yeah, see you.”
He doesn’t move immediately but instead parts his lips like he wants to say something else. I hold his stare and realize I’ve been leaning forward on my toes. What the?
A subtle shake of his head is all I get before he’s turning back to his family. I fall back to my heels and swallow thickly.
Beth looks between Adam and me with a silent question that goes unanswered before she and Cooper quickly say their goodbyes. They spin their cart around and head down the aisle. Adam places a hand on Cooper’s shoulder, and my chest tightens.
“I quite enjoy their company,” Mom says once they’ve cleared our line of sight.
My phone vibrates in my pocket as I nod in agreement. Pulling it out, I read the message on the screen and don’t bother fighting the tug of my lips.
Adam White: In case you were wondering, my soul feels a lot better after seeing you.
