Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“Fuck that.” I shook my head. “I will drive you back tonight. It’s the least I can do.”
TWELVE
mabel
On the drive down to Traverse City, Joe and I worked out a tentative plan for his financial support during the pregnancy and once the baby was born. He was more than generous, offering to cover not only my mortgage and medical care, but additional funds to cover living expenses. I knew not every man in his situation would respond the way he had, and it made me even more curious about his parents. They’d obviously raised him well.
“Tell me more about your mom and dad,” I said.
“Well, my mom, Coco, used to be a wedding planner, but now she works at the restaurant with my dad. She’s the best. My brothers and I put her through so much hell growing up, it’s a miracle she didn’t lose her mind. She’s definitely going to try to feed you. What she loves most in the world is taking care of people.”
“What about your dad?”
“What my dad loves most in the world is my mom.”
“Awww.”
“I mean, he loves his kids too, but he’s crazy about my mom. Family is everything to him. When we were growing up, he never missed a game, a school play, a swim meet . . .” Joe’s voice trailed off, and he was silent for a moment. Was he thinking about what kind of father he’d be? “But his restaurant is important to him too. And he loves cooking at home. Both my parents do. We had great big Sunday dinners, always.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting them.” I chewed my lip. “Are they going to think I’m . . .” I wasn’t sure how to finish the question. Careless? Stupid? A hockey fangirl who did this on purpose?
“They’re going to like you. I promise.” He grimaced. “They might be upset with me, but they will not blame you.”
“I just don’t want them to think I’m . . . looking for anything from you.”
“Mabel. Don’t.” He shook his head and glanced over at me. “They will not look down on you or think you’re some kind of puck bunny gold digger. I promise you—they are not like that.”
“But puckbunnygolddigger225 is my Instagram handle. They might get suspicious.”
He burst out laughing, and the sound made me happy.
“So did you always know you wanted to play professional hockey?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. When I was a kid, I used to lie awake at night and imagine the arenas I’d play in, the games I’d win, the goals I’d score. I’d dream about flying down the ice on a breakaway, outsmarting the goalie, flipping the puck into the back of the net. I’d imagine what it would feel like to lift the Stanley Cup.”
I smiled. “And you never doubted you’d get there?”
“I mean, everyone has doubts now and then. But I’m very determined when I set my mind to something.”
“I know this about you.”
He gave me a sly grin from the corner of his mouth along with a sideways glance. “I guess you do.”
“Does the pressure ever get to you?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes. But it’s part of the deal.”
We arrived at their house around seven-thirty and walked in the back door, entering a large, homey kitchen done in cozy earth tones. A woman with shoulder-length dark hair stood at the sink, her back to us. When she heard the door open, she turned around, and her face lit up with joyful surprise.
“Joey Lupo! What are you doing here?” She quickly shut off the faucet, dried her hands, and raced over for a hug.
“Surprise,” he said, bending down to embrace her.
“I wish you’d have told me you were coming! I’d have held dinner for you.”
“That’s okay, we already ate.” He turned to me. “Mom, I’d like to introduce you to someone. This is Mabel. Mabel, this is my mom.”
I smiled at her. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Lupo.”
“Please. Call me Coco.” She smiled warmly at me as she shook my hand. I saw where Joe had inherited the wide-set blue eyes, thick black lashes, and beautiful golden skin.
A man entered the kitchen, and I immediately knew it was Joe’s father. They were built the same, with wide shoulders and tapered waists, and the nose and mouth were nearly identical to his. Mr. Lupo’s hair was salt and pepper, and his face had the creases of a happy life, but he was still handsome. He wore a navy blue T-shirt that said Bayside Sports, and his muscular forearms were covered with tattoos, which surprised me.
“Hey, I thought I heard your voice,” he said to Joe with a grin that matched his son’s.
“Hey, Dad.” Joe engulfed his father in a hug, and they thumped each other on the back.
“This is a nice surprise,” his father said. “What are you doing up this way?”