Graham

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"Calendars are here," Amber's voice resounded throughout the corridors of the club as she made the rounds.

"Are you happy with them?" I asked when she barreled in my office, carrying a stack of calendars.

She pushed one into my hand. "Absolutely. Don't tell any of the boys on the team I've said this, but you're hotter than all of them."

Charity or not, taking my shirt off for this wasn't my brightest idea.

"They won't hear anything from me. By the way, I want you to expand on the benefits of the calendar in the club’s quarterly planning session next week.”

“Sure. Want to grab dinner? Matt’s picking me up in an hour.”

“Can’t.”

"Plans with Lori?"

"Milo. I'm picking him up from school and spending the afternoon with him. Lori has to work tonight." She had her Hollywood event this evening, and I offered to watch Milo. We had a lot of fun when Lori went out with the girls.

Amber nodded appreciatively. "I like the sound of that. I'm so glad you're giving this thing with Lori a real chance. After your divorce, I thought you'd be a serial dater until you got old, and then I'd have to deal with your grumpy ass."

I chuckled, shaking my head. Then a realization hit me out of the blue, shocking the hell out of me. For the past two years, I hadn’t wanted to give my future much thought—probably because I agreed with Amber that I’d end up a grumpy, old sack of bones and still going out on meaningless dates. But now, I was cautiously optimistic about my future, hoping Lori and Milo would be in it.

"Your concern for my well-being is touching."

"Well, what are friends for? I haven’t seen you this happy even when you were married.”

I pondered her words, then realized the explanation was simple. “That’s because I wasn’t.”

Elizabeth and I spent half the time fighting to reach a middle ground on anything, and most of our compromises made neither of us happy. Amber smiled at me. She and Matt had been wary of Elizabeth from the start, pointing out that we were too different. 

“I’m happy for you, Graham. I'll let you get back to what you were doing. Need to get these to the boys. Practice should be over soon."

After Amber left, I turned my attention to the issue I'd been putting off all day—calling my father. Almost three weeks had passed since my first Friday dinner with the Connor clan. When I sent him the last monthly payment, I tried to talk to him for longer than five minutes. He'd seemed pleasantly surprised even though it had been awkward as fuck, mostly because we hadn't had a real conversation in years. Now I was debating calling him, even though it wasn't the time for a monthly payment. After debating with myself for a few more minutes, I finally bit the bullet and dialed his number.

"Hey! How have things been?" I asked as he picked up.

"Graham? That you?"

"Yes."

"Your number's hidden. Did anything happen?"

"No, I just thought I'd touch base."

"Okay."

An awkward pause followed. Yeah, this wasn't getting easier.

"Where are you?"

"I landed in London. I'll fly back next week." He'd always been a globetrotter, so this came as no surprise.

"Passing through LA any time soon? We could watch a game together."

Another awkward pause followed, but he actually did sound animated when he said, "I can do that. I know the team's schedule and when they're playing at home."

"Let me know when you're in town." 

"Will do. How's the weather there?"

"Sunny. London?"

"It's raining cats and dogs, like the English like to say."

Talking about the weather wasn't much, but we had to start somewhere. We exchanged some more pleasantries before ending the call. I was wondering when our conversations would stop feeling like pulling teeth.

It was time to pick up Milo, so I left the club. I almost stuffed the calendar in a trashcan, then thought better of it. I knew someone would have a field day with it, so I put it on the passenger seat.

Milo was waiting along with a few other kids in the small yard in front of the school building when I arrived.

"What do you want to do, buddy? It's just the two of us today," I asked as soon as I strapped him in the car. 

"I get to choose what we do?"

"Yes."

His face morphed into a strange expression, like he couldn't believe his luck. He and Lori had loved testing out new restaurants with me, so I thought he might go with that.

"Can we go to the toy store?" he asked.

"Sure. Does it have a name?"

"Simba's."

I googled the address, then used the GPS app on my phone for directions. Milo chatted my ear off the entire drive, informing me about the toys of all his classmates. 

Simba's was hands down the equivalent of nirvana for a kid. Milo's expression was priceless. I felt like I was reverting to my seven-year-old self too. It had a warehouse feel to it, with rows upon rows stocked chock-full of toys.

"Can I have this truck?" He pointed to a miniature red truck.

"Sure."

He placed it inside the small cart I was pushing. Ten feet later, his eyes went wide, his little mouth formed an O when we came to a stop in front of an assembly of superhero figurines.

"Look at Thor," he said excitedly. "And Captain America."

"I'm Team Iron Man."

Milo took each figurine in his hands, inspecting it before putting it back.

"Do you want one of each so you have the entire collection?"

"All of them?"

"Sure, buddy. Buy whatever you want."

I realized something was amiss when his eyes went wider than I'd ever seen them. Did Lori have some sort of rule about how many toys he was allowed to buy? I had to remember to ask her... for another trip. No way was I letting the kid down now. We loaded one of each in the cart and moved forward, coming to a stop only a few feet later. Milo pointed to a fire truck. His eyes went wide again, and suspicion gnawed at me. I was being played. I was sure of it. But I still nodded.

The section of outdoor entertainment came up next. We were surrounded by slides, swings, and tents. Milo inspected a small tent, which didn't seem suited for any sort of camping. The slightest wind could blow it away. A family of three was inspecting the tent next to us, and when they moved away, Milo immediately pointed to it. 

"Can I have a tent in my room?" he asked. That was where saying yes to everything got me.

"Would your mother be okay with that?"

Milo averted his gaze, which was answer enough. The tent was small enough to fit. I was pretty sure Lori would hand me my ass for this, but when Milo sighed and cast those green eyes at me, I knew there was no way I'd say no.

"Okay. We're taking this, but then we're heading straight home, okay?"

That grin right there? Yeah, it was worth it.

"Yes! Wow. I will have a tent. I will be an actual explorer. Maybe my uncles will help me build it."

"I can help you."

"Really? Like a real dad?"

Wham. My chest twisted, and then twisted again. What was I doing, playing at being a father? I had no idea how to be one. What if I screwed this up? The better question was, what were the odds that I wasn't going to screw this up? But when this little boy smiled at me, I wanted to be everything he needed. I made myself a promise, right there and then, not to disappoint Lori and Milo. 

I ruffled his hair, lowering myself on my haunches.

"Exactly. I'll build it with you. Do you know if your mom has a toolbox?"

"Yes. Uncle Will brought us a new one last year. I know where we keep it."

"Okay, buddy. Let's take everything home and I'll help you build it."

Like a real dad.

***

Turned out we'd both miscalculated. The tent didn't fit in his room, so we set it up in the living room. I hadn't manned up enough to send Lori a picture yet. 

"You're the best explorer," Milo declared after we pretended to light a campfire in the living room. The fire was pretend, but the mess we'd made wasn't. We brought in twigs and leaves, and cleaning up was torture, because we dragged in dirt too.

"Do you have homework?" I inquired after we cleaned up as best as we could.

"Yes."

"Let's take a look at it."

"Do we have to?"

"If we want your mom to allow me to watch you again, yes."

Milo practically ran to his room, returning with a book and a notebook. We settled on the floor, and he showed me his math homework. 

I'd saved a soccer club from bankruptcy and turned it profitable, and I'd minored in engineering. Surely a second grade math problem couldn't stump me? Except it did. Not so much the problem itself, but the way of presenting the solution. It was a simple geometry question, but explaining it to a second grader was different than explaining it to an older student. I spent twenty minutes on Google and thirty on YouTube until I understood what I had to explain.

"Milo, we've earned an ice cream," I announced once we were done. 

"We're allowed ice cream for dinner?" The excitement in his voice was contagious. Shit. I definitely remembered a rule about sugar and evening, but I chose to fake selective memory loss just this once.