“What am I going to do with you, Markos?” she says softly, and I want to tell her nothing. Just be here with me.

“I can think of a few things,” I say.

“I can think of a few things also,” she says and then whispers, “and all of them end with us naked.”

“Funny you say that because that is what I was going to say,” I tell her, opening my door now. “Message me when you get back to town, and I’ll come and get you.”

“D’accord,” she says again in her French. “I’ll see you then, and we can maybe discuss New Orleans.”

“Have a great night,” I tell her and hang up. Setting my phone on the counter, I walk outside, something I do all the time. It doesn’t matter what the weather is outside. I always come out if just for a minute. I spent the night going over the things I want to do with her in New Orleans.

I walk into the rink the next day wearing almost the same thing I wore yesterday—shorts and a sweater with the team logo on it and my baseball hat backward. Carrying a shake in my hand, I bump into Matthew while I walk to the changing room.

“You’re here early,” I tell him. “I mean, earlier than usual.”

“I got kicked out of my bed,” he says, rubbing his face, and I look at him. “Vivienne is over visiting, and she spent the whole night on the couch with the girls and then decided it was a good idea to let them watch Toy Story.” I laugh. “Of terror. I got kicked in the balls twice.”

“Ouch,” I say, shaking my head and trying not to laugh.

“Then this morning, she comes upstairs all refreshed and speaking in French,” he says, and I’m jealous suddenly. “But what can I do? I love her.” I don’t say anything. “You doing okay? How are the backups?”

“Good,” I say to him. “I think one is going to work out, but I don’t want to say anything yet.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” he says. “I’m going to enjoy sitting in the box with you and watching you freak out because you don’t have a say in how the game is played.”

I shake my head. “I think I’ll be okay.”