Page 57 of The Offside Rule

Page List
Font Size:

I nodded. “Got mail today. She’s having a great time. Apparently, she passed the swim test, made two bracelets, and ate something called campfire nachos.”

“That sounds either amazing or disgusting,” she laughed.

“Both, probably.”

“Mila sent a letter too. She’s having a blast.” Catherine’s smile shifted into something softer. “She added a P.S. for me. She said her and Isla love and miss me.”

Catherine loved my daughter. Not in some vague, polite way. Another reason she was dangerous.

“Kids,” I said, because apparently that was all my dumb mouth could manage.

“Yeah.” She looked up. “They get you.”

“They really do.”

For a second, the condo went quiet.

I gestured toward the table. “Sit before the food gets cold.”

She slipped into one of the chairs, and I brought over the chicken, pasta, roasted vegetables, and salad.

Catherine looked at the food and then at me. “You made this?”

“No, I ordered it and rubbed flour on my shirt for the aesthetic,” I joked.

She laughed. “Sorry. I’m impressed.”

“You should be. I used more than one pan.” I laughed. “I’ve come a long way over the years.”

She took a bite of the pasta first, and I watched her face because I was suddenly more nervous than I had been before playoff games.

Her eyes closed for half a second. “Okay, this is really good.”

My chest did something stupid. “Yeah?”

“Really good.” She took another bite. “You can cook.”

“I had to learn.”

“Because of Isla?”

I nodded, cutting into my chicken. “When she was little, I realized I couldn’t feed her takeout and frozen waffles forever. My mom helped, Quinn helped, but I wanted to know how to make real meals for her.”

“That’s sweet.”

“It was survival,” I admitted.

I looked at her across the table. Candlelight caught in her hair and made the damp strands look darker. Her shoulder was still bare where the sweatshirt slipped, and I was trying very hard not to look. This was the problem. Dinner with Catherine was easy. I had expected the tension. I expected to want her. I did not expect her to fit across from me at my dining table like she’d been there before.

I took a drink of sparkling water. “This is part of what I mean.”

She glanced up. “What?”

“The stage-of-life thing.”

Her face shifted. “Ah. Here we go.”

“I’m serious.”