It effectively shut him up.
Lily is loud, energetic, hates anything school related, and falls in and out of love so quickly it makes my head spin. She talks all the time about how she's waiting for that love that will sweep her off her feet. The knock the breath out of you love, the love Bishop and I have. She calls us ‘couple goals.’
Like Anna, I was afraid one of these days Lily was going to fall head over heels for a boy who doesn’t feel the same and it’s going to crush her. As much as her hopeless romantic attitude annoys the shit out of me, I don’t want to see her be a cynic.
“Hopefully she finds her prince charming, and I’m already planning to wear ‘vote for Violet’ buttons when she announces she is running for president,” I say happily.
I heard the bell on the coffee shop door, and I didn’t even have to turn around to know he was here.
When my skin prickled with anticipation was the moment he stepped into the room, I always knew, because things with Bishop weren't just things you saw with your eyes.
He was something you perceived in every sense.
I could smell him, the same cologne he'd used since he was eighteen. I could hear his weighted footsteps, heel-toe, heel-toe. I hear the way his shirt moves against his body when he takes a deep breath.
Mostly…mostly, I felt him. His presence was a zippo that lit me on fucking fire. From the bottom of my feet all the way to the crown of my head, it was all burning for him, burning for him like it did when he first touched me, when he smiled at me, and now all these years later he is still affecting me this way.
He consumed me, he was all the oxygen in the entire galaxy, and I was one tiny flame. I couldn't breathe, couldn't function correctly. I turn softly, just my head. My eyes see him entering the doorway and my chest throbs when I see him.
Bishop is beautiful.
I know I should describe him as hot, or smoldering, or sexy, something masculine, but it just isn't right. It's not that he isn't sexy, because he can inspire lust, trust me, it's just…
He inspires awe and admiration, a remoteness that is pretty to look at, it's inaccessible. It evokes an introverted depth, a longing, dreamy quality. He's like a dream, a ghost, like when you reach out to touch him he'd disappear into your imagination.
His hair is pushed out of his face grazing his broad shoulders in soft waves with a few pieces dangling in front of his face, but I know soon he'll take those large hands and press it back. He cut his beard about a week ago, so a five o'clock shadow brings out his jawline.
My hand instantly reaches up to graze the catholic pendant dangling from my neck. All these years and I still haven’t taken it off. The chain snapped a few months ago and I nearly had a breakdown. He kissed my forehead, and told me he would fix it. So he bought me another chain and slipped the pendant on it.
This necklace is so much more than just a necklace. It’s a constant memory of all we’ve been through, all the universe did to make sure we ended up together. Anna had given him this once, on his birthday, and then he gave it to me. Somehow fate new I needed a piece of my mother.
He's so different from when I first saw him. He was fresh-faced, young, full of life. He wasn't the same young man I met all those years ago. Our history, our past were the aging marks on his face.
He looked hardened from the world, stronger, less likely to break than when we were young. My heart was running a marathon; it would never win inside my chest when his bright blue eyes met my stare.
When he sees me, his face turns into a wicked grin that makes my stomach erupt in butterflies. He sends me a sly wink, and I roll my eyes at his goofiness. He is wearing those jeans that make his ass look great and a T-shirt with the name of the high school he coaches at.
Bishop retired the year we got together, and he picked up coaching a few months later. He had been offered the position at a few big colleges and even an NHL team. But he turned them down. He wanted to stay near home for a little while. He wanted to support me and that’s exactly what he does every day of our lives.
Our romantic moment is interrupted though, I watch as a small body pushes past him and comes barreling towards me.
“Momma!”
I never knew a love so small, yet so big in my life. I stand up, squatting down and holding my arms out for her to land in. Her curly hair bounces with every step. It’s soft red, with bits of natural blonde woven in it. My dad calls her his Shortcake. Those big blue eyes are staring at me like I hold the world, and to her I do.
She smashes into my chest and I laugh. I pick her small frame up, spinning her around in my grasp. I blow strawberries in her neck, making her giggle.
“Momma, quit! Momma!” she begs with more laughter.
I always loved the nickname Vallie, but I love being called Momma more. It’s my favorite title. I had won a lot of things in my life. High school awards, college accomplishments, I’d won two Stanley Cups, and I was working on my third. I’d won the Calder award for Rookie of the Year, and I had won the Hart Memorial Trophy three years in a row.
But nothing felt like being this little girl's mommy.
This was my last year in the league. I always thought I'd be upset leaving hockey, but I was looking forward to spending more time with Dalia. She was growing so fast, and I was afraid I was missing too much while I was on the road.
I understood why my dad retired now. As a kid I thought he was crazy, I wasn’t going to retire until I was forced to. Then I had Dalia and I realized there was nothing more I wanted in this life than to be her mom.
When we found out I was pregnant I nearly passed out, and when we found out we were having a girl I was terrified.
Me? The tomboyest of them all? Having a girl?
I didn’t know how to braid or do makeup. I hated Barbies. I had no idea how I was going to do this. Until I realized that my dad had shown me how to love your children and that’s all that mattered. They want to feel loved and cherished.
Plus, my munchkin hates having her hair braided and prefers being outside than playing with Barbies. So I got lucky on that part.
“Did you have a good day, Dalia Reid?” I kiss her forehead as I look at her in my arms.
Dalia Reid Maverick. Reid was after my pops, but Dalia? Dalia meant fate. Because that’s exactly what she was.
“Yes! I had the bestest day ever, Momma! Pop-Pop and Ni-Ni gave me all kinds of candy!” she says excitedly.
I laugh, looking up at my husband who is standing beside me. He tugs one of my face framing curls and leans in to peck my lips.
“Lemons…” he hums softly. It's a quick kiss, like a habit. It’s something we do every day. We kiss every morning, before we leave each other, when we go to sleep, throughout the day.
“Remind me to punch your dad when she won’t go to sleep tonight and I can’t get laid,” he jokes, and I punch him in the shoulder. He taps my ass as he walks by me to hug Anna, once my wild daughter realizes Anna is here she climbs out of my arms and rushes towards her.
“Hi, Na-Na,” she says softly as she hugs her.
My sweet girl has a heart of gold and loves showing it. Allowing Anna to be a part of Dalia’s life wasn’t a hard choice. We had already mended our past wounds, and Eric and her had been the only parents Bishop ever really had. So they became Na-Na and Gramps. Violet and Lily were aunties and my dad and his wife Melisa, were Pop-Pop and Ni-Ni.