Kaira squirmed in Rowan’s lap. “He could come with us to Curaçao!”
Fortunately Rowan wasn’t drinking at that point—he’d run out of coffee, alas—so he didn’t choke at the suggestion that Jordy take him on a family vacation.
Jordy was midgulp with his Gatorade and somehow didn’t choke. He just pulled the bottle away, wiped his mouth, and tilted his head as if considering Kaira’s suggestion. As if it wasn’t insane to invite Rowan on a family vacation after a week of cohabitation. “Hm. Maybe. But next summer is a long way off, so it’s too soon to make plans. Lots of stuff could happen between now and then.”
Kaira looked doubtful. “Like what?”
“Well, Rowan might have another job or make different summer plans, or we might not go to Curaçao again.” Kaira’s whole body drooped, as if she’d never even considered any of these devastating possibilities. “Or you might decide you hatesand and swimming and castles and you never want to see any of them again.”
“Daddy!” Kaira shrieked, animated again and outraged at the sheer ridiculousness of her dad’s suggestion. “I would never not wanna swim. Daddy, everyone loves castles and sand.” She squirmed out of Rowan’s lap to wrap herself around Jordy’s leg.
Rowan’s attention swung from the total adorableness of the sight and the love and trust between parent and child to how much larger Jordy’s thighs looked juxtaposed with a near-toddler.
Maybe before Jordy’s work season really started, Rowan should go out and get railed so he could burn off some of the fire Jordy’s everything kept stoking.
Jordy did make pancakes.
“Pizza, then pancakes? I’m pretty sure they aren’t athlete dietician approved,” Rowan said in an undertone.
Jordy waved this off with a shrug and a small smile. “Eh, I’m a defenseman. I’m supposed to be hard to take down.”
Once they were settled at the breakfast table and Kaira was deep into her pancakes, Jordy caught Rowan’s eye and said, “So, there’s a work thing coming up that we should talk about.”
That sounded ominous.
“Basically they’re sending me to New York for a couple of days for some media stuff. We’re invited to bring our families. They’ll keep me busy most of the day, but we have our evenings mostly to ourselves.”
“Oh?” That sounded intriguing.
“So the question is, can you, and do you want to, come to New York next month? I’m not expecting an answer right now. I know you probably have to look at a calendar, and I know doingthisjob in another city, in another country, is a whole different ask. Technically I think you’d have to come as a friend, even, because you don’t have a work visa for the US. Which is fine, Ican hire someone while we’re there too, or you and Kaira can stay here. But if youdowant to come, it’ll be for three days, and you’d probably have some support in the form of spouses with kids doing the same thing.”
That was a lot to take in. Rowan swallowed a bite of pancake. “Uh, wow. You go to this often?”
“Sometimes. I didn’t go last year, but our captain is young this year, so I think the team wants me to bring up the average age.”
Rowan snorted. “You say that like you’re old.”
“Only if you’re counting hockey years. Just turned thirty-two last spring, and most guys are done before they do.”
Rowan’s eyes bugged. “Wait, seriously?”
“Average retirement age is twenty-nine.”
“Huh. I guess I figured it would be closer to thirty-five. Most footballers last that long.”
Jordy shrugged. “There are outliers, obviously, but hockey is fast and hard, and it’s only getting faster and harder”—Rowan’s libido perked up and wagged its tail, but he swatted it down with a newspaper—“and the players are getting younger.”
“I… picked the wrong profession. I will definitely not be retired in five years.” He ate some pancake in consolation.
“True, but you’ll probably still have the use of your knees and aren’t likely to need surgery to hold your body together before you reach fifty.”
“Thanks,” Rowan said dryly. “Tell me more silver linings. I need some. At this rate, I’ll be so old by the time I’ve got pensionable earnings that I won’t be able to retire before ninety.”
Jordy frowned. “Doesn’t the library have a pension fund?”
“Yeah, and I pay into it in the hopes of one day collecting from it instead of having to buy it all back, but I’m not full-time or even permanent. I’ve been working mat leaves for the pasttwo years, and my contract is up in a few weeks and I don’t have anything new lined up. I lucked out getting two back-to-back, but the odds of getting a third look slim.” Rowan had thought his master’s in library science would give him job security. After all, modern society still needed systems of organization. But the waiting and hoping and worrying about not having a permanent job was wearing on him.
“I’m sorry to hear it,” Jordy said, and he sounded it. “Was the public library where you were hoping to work?”
