"Why?"
"It's gotten a little sloppy since the play-offs started." Hans had found someone reliable to come in to clean once a week, but she wasn't due for three more days. "And . . ." Truth time. "Lauren is coming over for a minute before we step out to get some dinner." He stood up and faced his daughter. "You want to join us?"
Elsa wrinkled her nose the same way she used to do when Shelly served brussels sprouts. "No."
"You mean ‘no, thank you?'"
"No, thank you," she droned.
He picked up an empty water bottle and a crumpled napkin. "Aren't you even going to ask where we're going?"
"Nope." She turned around and beat feet toward the stairs. "Dibs on the leftover Indian food in the fridge."
"It's all yours," he said slowly, wondering if he should try harder to include her this evening. They'd hung out for a couple hours yesterday, watching a movie together during the resting hours before his game. And since today was Sunday, they'd had brunch before he'd had to go to the practice facility for a quick goal-coaching session. But he'd been home for hours now.
He'd have to fly back to Detroit on Wednesday, though that was still three days away. During the play-offs, he was always an absent father. But when Elsa got out of school he'd have a month of free time with her. How many dads had that?
Dinner with Lauren would take an hour, tops. And an hour alone with Lauren was something they both needed. It had now been ten days since they'd been together in Tampa. Ten days of only texts and phone calls. He was dying to hold her.
So here he was, straightening the living room and then heading into the kitchen to sweep crumbs off the countertops. When the doorbell rang at six thirty, his heart leapt like a school boy's. He trotted over to the front door and opened it to reveal Lauren standing on his stoop in a bright pink trench coat and pearls, wearing a shy expression on her face.
"Hi," he said, his smile spreading.
"Hi," she said, her own smile tentative.
"Come on in." He stepped aside to let her pass. "Can I take your coat? I thought we'd have a beer before we went out for dinner." He sounded oddly formal to his own ears.
So after she handed over her raincoat, he tossed it over the arm of the sofa. Then he backed her up against the front door and kissed her hungrily. Her lips were warm, and her body was soft beneath his.
Startled hands flew to his back, but then they welcomed him in. She made a throaty little noise as her mouth softened beneath his.
Jesus. He had the urge to carry her up two flights of stairs and throw her on the bed. If they were home alone right now, he'd probably do it.
With a quiet groan, he eased back. "Sure missed you."
"I could tell." She smiled up at him, her cheeks flushed.
He wanted to hear, I missed you, too. The words sort of hung in the air between them. But he knew exactly why they went unsaid. Because the whole phrase would be: I missed you for two years, dummy. He was the one who had put them in this awkward position. So he would have to be the one to get them out.
"Come inside for a minute?" he asked. "Want the tour?"
Lauren peered around him. "Jeez, Mike. Your house is gorgeous."
"Thanks. I can't take any credit. The seller did all the modernizing. All I had to do was try not to ruin it with my old furniture." He squinted at the long white room with its buttery wood floors and hipster light fixtures, wondering what Lauren saw. It was humbling to show her his multimillion dollar pad for the first time when he was guilty of scuttling their life in the city together two years ago. "How about that beer?" he suggested. I sure could use one.
"Well . . ." she gave a nervous laugh. "You go ahead. But I'm going to lay off the alcohol for a little while. Because . . . you never know."
Right. He grinned, and then stepped in to kiss her on the forehead. "Sorry. I'm easily distracted." He pulled her in for a hug, and when his arms closed around her again, everything seemed less fraught.
She tucked her chin against his shoulder and they just stayed there for a moment, both trying to get used to the new normal.
"Let me show you the house," he asked, giving her a squeeze. "There's something I want you to see."
"Private bowling alley?" she teased. "Wine cellar? Man cave in the basement?"
He took her hand and led her through the living room toward the stairway. "The basement is a hundred and fifty years old, unimproved. Definitely not on the tour."
"Holy cow-your kitchen." She craned her neck for a glimpse toward the back. "That is fancy."
"I know," he chuckled. "And Hans is the only one who cooks in it. Elsa and I are takeout connoisseurs."
He led her up to the second floor, where the door to Elsa's room was shut tightly. "There's two bedrooms on this floor, and then a little room Hans calls his office. It's full of instruments and sheet music. But keep climbing." He trudged up the second flight. At the top of the stairs a skylight lit up the narrow hallway. "So . . . this is my room." He stepped inside.
"You brought me upstairs to show me your bedroom? What a shocker."
"Subtle, right?" He stepped into the bright room, with its high ceilings. "Never got around to decorating it," he said. "We've only been here eight months, and nobody but me ever comes up here. But look." He pushed open a door in one wall and stepped through into a little room. It had a round, antique window and a painted wood floor. The walls were a rather girly shade of pink.
There wasn't a stick of furniture. The room was completely empty.
Lauren stepped in behind him. "Oh," she said quietly. "It's supposed to be . . ."
"The nursery," he finished.
Her eyes lifted to his, and they were full of questions.
"Hey." He stepped closer to her and took one of her hands. "I know you think I'm headstrong, and maybe it's true. But I'm ready for whatever you'll give me." Gently, he took a step forward, and then another, until he'd backed her up against one of the pink walls. Then he cupped the back of her head and brushed his lips across hers. "I don't know exactly what the future holds. But I can't wait to find out."
When her blue eyes softened, he slanted his mouth across hers again. The sound of her sigh went straight to his cock. He pressed more firmly against her body, and wondered what a baby bump on Lauren would look like, and got a thrill just reminding himself she might be carrying his child. If not today, then sometime soon.
"Daddy!" Elsa's voice carried up the stairs.
He gave a frustrated moan against Lauren's mouth. He kissed her once more and then stepped back. Leaning his head out of the nursery door, he hollered, "What do you need?"
"Help! With math homework!"
He cursed under his breath. "I think my kid is telepathic. She hasn't asked me for help with math in a year."
"Must be important, then," Lauren said lightly.
Grumbling, he jogged down the stairs. He caught Lauren's hand on the second floor landing and stepped through Elsa's now open doorway. "What's the matter?"
She spun around in her desk chair. And when she saw Lauren standing there too, her eyes narrowed. "What is a polynomial?"
"Well . . ." Mike chuckled. "Uh . . . ‘Poly' means many."
Lauren improved on his definition. "A polynomial is an expression containing different powers of the same variable. For example-3 plus 2x plus x squared."
Mike pointed at Lauren. "Yeah. What she said." But Elsa didn't even smile. "Any more questions?"
Slowly, his daughter shook her head.
"Want to get some dinner with us?"
Another head shake.
"Okay then. I'll be back in an hour. My phone is on."
She gave him a thumbs-up, which somehow managed to drip with sarcasm.
"Let's go!" he said to Lauren in a voice filled with false cheer. "Italian or Thai. You can pick."
• • •
They ordered homemade gnocchi and prosciutto at a little bistro on Henry Street, and when the conversation began flowing, it was almost like old times.
Almost.
He asked Lauren what it was like working for Nate.
"Well, I love the guy. But there are days when I feel like listing him on eBay."
"Why?" he asked, chuckling. "Because he's arrogant?"
"No." She shook her pretty head. "He isn't arrogant at all. It's like . . . he already knows he's smarter than everyone else, and the disparity isn't worth dwelling upon. But he goes off on these mad scientist tangents where he'll hole up in his office with a couple of engineers and shut out the rest of the world. They're in there reinventing the telecommunications industry, and meanwhile I have to explain to five or six heads of industry why Nate is suddenly unavailable for the conference call he asked me to schedule a week ago."