When we walk in, Kenna reintroduces me to Dakota, a petite brunette who I briefly met when Carson introduced me to his family at the family and friend’s skate before he swept her away for hot chocolate. Next to Dakota is Alexa, who I met the other day with Jackson.
We make small talk for a few minutes before I excuse myself to go down the hall to my grandparents’ suite to check on Gunner and Gemma.
“Woah, look at all the lights, Papa!” Gunner squeals to my grandfather.
“I’m glad you like them, Sport,” he tells Gunner before he notices me enter the suite. “Ah, there she is! How’s my Firefly?”
“I’m good, I was just coming to check on the kiddos.”
“Scar! Did you give Bennett our presents?” Gunner asks me.
“I left them in his cubby for him to find before his game,” I answer.
“Do you think he’s gonna like them?”
“I know he is, buddy,” I placate him while sending up a silent prayer that we didn’t throw off his superstitions too badly.
“And what did you get Bennett for a present?” our grandmother asks him.
“We printed a picture of all of us and I gave him my most specialest good luck crystal!” Gunner’s excitement warms my chest like it always does.
“The picture is from when we went to the pumpkin patch the other day—it’s the only picture I had of the four of us. And then we all wrote him a little note on the back and I laminated it. The crystal was a great addition that Gunner thought of,” I add, pulling Gunner to me and wrapping my arms around his shoulders in an embrace.
“Oh, that reminds me. I was talking to Sally the other day and she said her granddaughter is a wedding photographer. Have you already booked one? Maybe you could hire her to take your engagement photos and if you like them, you could hire her for the big day,” my grandmother suggests.
My skin feels tight thinking about wedding planning. Not because I haven’t always dreamt about what my wedding would look like, but because I’m not sure if this particular arrangement calls for planning it down to every last detail I’ve always envisioned. But I don’t want to upset my grandmother so I ask her, “Could you have Sally sendher granddaughter’s contact information to my assistant? I’ll go over it with Bennett, but I think that sounds like a great idea. Thank you for thinking of us.”
She sends me a soft smile. “Always, sweet girl.”
“Where’s Gemma?” I ask, looking around the suite and not seeing her.
“She ran into a few friends from school so I said she could spend the first period in their suite,” my grandfather cuts in.
“You what? Who? She never mentioned she’d have friends she knew here tonight. Did she get something to eat before she went off? Where is their suite?”
“Ease up, Firefly. Don’t forget we’ve raised kids before,” he says with a practiced patience I only hope to develop over time. “Gemma ate before she left, and we’ll all get her Dexcom notifications if her sugar levels need attention. She said their names are Colton and Eva, and they’re two suites down with the rest of the Connelly family. Take a look for yourself.” He gestures toward the right and I peek my head around the corner of the open seating of our suite to find Gemma standing next to a tall girl with light brown hair next to an even taller boy about Gemma’s age.
“Are those Nathan Connelly’s younger siblings?”
“Yes, his younger brother is a senior at St. Christopher Academy and his sister is in Gemma’s class,” my grandmother explains.
“Wait, isn’t that the captain’s suite?” I ask my grandfather.
“Yeah, but Bennett wanted to make sure Connelly’s family could make it to as many games as possible since they moved across the country to be closer to him.”
My eyebrows lift a moment later when the boy—young man—wraps his arm around Gemma’s shoulder and gives her a side hug.
You’ve got to be kidding me. Now I’m going to need to run interference in her love life when my own is in utter chaos?
My grandmother must see my worries written all over my face because she chuckles at me and shakes her head. “Want some sage advice from an old bat who raised a couple of teenagers?”
“Yes,” I answer with a whine.
“Don’t forget you were once a teenager too.”
“That’syour sage advice?” I ask in disbelief. “Need I remind you that I was constantly pushing the boundaries my dad set?”
My hysterics earn me another round of laughter, this time my grandfather joins in. “What I mean to say is, don’t forget what it felt like to be a teenager when you’re having the big discussions with her. I’ve found it’s best to let them make their own informed choices while giving them guidance and the tools for success.”
