Marek (Cold Fury Hockey #11)(30)
When he releases me, he looks around expectantly. “Where’s Marek and Lilly?”
“I think Marek thought we’d benefit from alone time to talk a bit first, so he took her out to grab us bagels.”
“That’s thoughtful,” Joan remarks brightly as Gale shuts the door behind them. “But clearly unnecessary, since there’s nothing more to talk about on this issue, right?”
“Right.” The corners of my mouth tip upward in amusement at her cheery disposition in the face of such an emotional and somewhat awkward reunion. But just like that, I’m completely at ease, and it makes me love Joan all the more.
“I’ll make some coffee.” I walk to the kitchen, with Gale and Joan following me. “I’m sure Marek will be back soon.”
No sooner do we step foot into the kitchen and Marek and Lilly are walking through the mudroom that connects to the garage. He’s carrying a big bag of bagels and Lilly has a box of apple juice in her hands.
We had talked to Lilly last night and explained about Joan and Gale coming to visit. She understands they’re Marek’s parents, and seemed to accept the concept that she has another set of grandparents other than the ones she’s known all her life. To my already battered heart, Lilly asked if my parents were also coming to visit, and when I told her no, she got a little teary-eyed. I pulled her onto my lap and held her while she lamented missing her Mimi and G-Pa, as she calls them.
I can hear Joan’s breath catch behind me, and I know she’s locked eyes on Lilly and is taking in just how much she looks like Marek and herself. I step to the side to give both Joan and Gale room, and Marek’s hand goes to Lilly’s shoulder, which he squeezes reassuringly.
“Lilly, honey,” I say as she gives Joan and Gale a shy smile. “These are Marek’s parents we told you were coming to visit. This is your grandma Joan and your grandpa Gale.”
Her eyes immediately slide to mine. “They’re not called Mimi and G-Pa?”
Marek chuckles and squats down beside Lilly. She turns to look at him. “You can call them whatever you want, or maybe they might even have an idea for you.”
Joan walks toward Lilly like she’s in a trance. Her first grandchild. Perhaps the only she’ll ever have, who knows? She squats and reaches into her purse. She pulls out a tiny stuffed teddy bear and hands it over. “Hi, Lilly. I’m your grandma Joan and I am so very happy to meet you.”
Lilly takes the bear and gives a warmer smile to Joan.
Gale doesn’t squat, but he bends over to get near eye level with his granddaughter. “Hey, Lilly. You sure are a cute thing.”
Lilly giggles, and I put my hand over my mouth to hide a giggle of my own that wants to come out over watching how gaga Marek’s parents are over her.
“I have a name idea,” he continues. “What do you think about calling us Grammie and Pop-Pop?”
Lilly looks unsure.
Gale points at Joan. “She’s Grammie.”
“And he’s Pop-Pop,” Joan says, jabbing her thumb in Gale’s direction.
“Okay,” Lilly says, her smile going shy again as if she’s a little unsure of what it all means. I know she’ll probably forget these names and will need reminders, but it’s a beautiful start to what I bet is going to be a beautiful relationship.
Reaching out, I take the bag from Marek’s hands and he straightens up as he lets it go. I move around the island counter, removing myself from them so they can have some more intimate time with her. Marek guides them into the living room while I cut the bagels and make coffee. I smile to myself as Lilly pulls out one of her puzzles, and her new Grammie and Pop-Pop sit around the coffee table with her to work on it.
Marek sits on the couch, watching with such happiness on his face that my gut cramps over the potent reminder of everything they’ve all three missed out on.
At least I’ve made it right, and I only hope Marek can one day fully let bygones be bygones the way Joan and Gale seem to be doing.
I’m momentarily stunned midway through cutting a bagel when Marek’s gaze moves from Lilly to me and he winks at me with a genuine smile.
My knife goes down through the bagel and right into the tip of my index finger.
“Shit,” I say all too loudly as the knife clatters to the counter and a drop of blood falls to the half-cut bagel.
“Mommy…that’s a bad word,” Lilly says reproachfully.
And fuck that hurts. I turn to the kitchen sink as I hear Marek say to Lilly, “No, that’s a grown-up word, remember Lilly?”
I grimace at the blood that drips into the sink, but I’m amused to hear Marek say that to Lilly. That means she must have busted him using that word, and he advised her it was a grown-up word and not a “bad” word. Pretty damn smart if you ask me, because I’m sure she’s bound to hear it again from us. I try to keep it clean around Lilly, but sometimes emotion—or pain and blood—derails the best intentions.
Flipping on the cold water, I plunge my finger under it, trying to analyze how bad it is once the water runs clear.
“Let me see it,” I hear Marek from behind me.
His words and nearness cause me to jolt, but more than anything, I’m stunned by the worry in his voice.
For me.
Or, well, for my cut.
He doesn’t even give me a chance to comply or deny, merely takes my wrist and pulls my hand out from under the stream of water. He bends over and looks at the cut that’s no longer leaking blood but I know it would if I were to press on it. The thin red line of the cut is small, but I can’t tell how deep without prodding at it.