I know, I know it's short but I have had such a blockage / brain cramp this week that I thought just get this chapter done so I can move on.

Chapter 11

It is without a doubt an unusual place for a date or, in this case, an ‘un-date’. She is almost certain that he may have picked it because it is a public place, but as she casts a furtive glance in the direction of the hovering salesman, she isn’t sure that the choice of a large electronics store is a very wise choice. The young, eager looking salesman looms nearby but every time he comes too close Sid shoots him a dark look and he backs off. Every big screen in the place is tuned to the game and Sid is watching every pass and every shot intently. Fern sits quietly beside him on the black leather loveseat that she is quite certain is meant to be sat on by customer for a few minutes while they decide on a purchase.

But he is Sidney Crosby, she reminds herself as she cradles her stomach and glances nervously at the handsome young man with the ball cap pulled down over his eyes and he is the crown prince of this city which is what is buying them the space and a very small amount of privacy. Not that they’ve needed it so far. He has hardly spoken three words since meeting her outside the diner.

She does not know how to begin this conversation. That class in high school where she shared the responsibility for a sack of flour has not prepared her for discussing sharing an actual child and nothing in her life prepared her for having any kind of discussion with him.

“So what made you decide to keep it?” he asks suddenly. She has rehearsed the answer to this question a hundred times in her mind, has had to explain it to her friends, her family but now that he is asking the answer does not seem as clear.

“If you think it’s because it’s yours...,” she begins and he immediately shakes his head.

“Don’t get me wrong, I did,” he agrees without taking his eyes from the screen, even wincing as one of his teammates blocks a shot. “But now I think there’s probably more to it than that.” She wants to thank him for giving her some credit but she doesn’t. She nods and stares down at her the bump under her favourite dark purple sweater, wondering about the boy growing inside of her, who he’ll be, what he’ll grow up to be.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but uh...I’m not exactly a catch so who knows when I might have this chance again,” she begins. She doesn’t look over at him. She doesn’t want to see him nod or even smirk. She is still unsure of why she was chosen that night and has long since decided that it’s not worth pondering too hard.

“You’re not that bad,” he mutters and she allows herself a moment’s exultation. After all a ‘not bad’ from him feels like high praise. After all, she’s seen the women he’s left the bar with. “Aren’t you a bit young to worry about something like that?” he adds, finally sitting back though his gaze never leaves the screens in front of them.

“Maybe,” she shrugs. Jordan nearly stuffs himself and the Dallas Stars into the net. Sid shakes his head.

“What do your folks think?” he asks, finally taking his eyes off the screen long enough to look at her. His gaze slides to her stomach before he looks up into her eyes.

“They’re worried,” she admits, thinking of the disappointment on her mother’s face when she told them. “They don’t know about you,” she adds, biting down on her bottom lip as she tries to stifle a grin, “not that my father hasn’t asked a few times,” she adds, the image of a particular vein standing out in sharp relief on her father’s forehead as she refused to divulge the name of her child’s father.

“So how come you haven’t...y’know, moved in with them or something?” he asks, his hands clasped between his knees, his legs jiggling up and down anxiously. She finds it hard to believe that he, this man who seems to have the world at his feet, could be nervous around her or nervous at all.

“They live way out in the ‘burbs...I work here,” she shrugs. “It would be a kind of shit commute, especially by bus,” she continues, thinking about her parents’ two bedroom bungalow on a dead end street with the doilies on the side tables in the living room, the kitchen cupboards that need to be updated and the lawn that is always a week past needing to be mowed. “I could...I mean I might, later...I mean, I would probably need to for at least a while,” she sighs, thinking about meeting her father in the hallway in his droopy boxers as she gets up for a midnight feed. It isn’t something she is looking forward to but she is resigned to it.


“So...I’m just trying to get my head around this,” he coughs and then turns towards her, finally fully capturing her gaze with his very serious one. She has seen that look, a hundred times on the television and his ‘all business’ gaze has the very effect she’s always thought it would. Her palms sweat so that she has to wipe them on her jeans and her stomach clenches. “If you were so sure...if you’re one hundred per cent sure it’s mine then why didn’t you just come to me?”

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He has been around women who are looking for a brush with fame and he has been around women who are strictly in it for the life and the toys that the money he makes can guy them. He is almost certain that she is neither one of those kinds of women and yet as he watches her narrow her eyes at him he can’t help but hear Mario’s words playing on a never ending loop in the back of his mind; ‘they might seem harmless at first but once they have their claws into you things can change very quickly’.

“Well you’re you, for one thing,” she whispers, sending a quick glance towards the salesmen who is inching closer again. “Besides,” she adds, turning her face from his and carefully arranging her features so that her expression appears blank, “you weren’t very...nice.” He tries not to but is unable to stop himself from laughing when she reminds him of just what an ass he was that night.

“Yeah, I guess I should apologize for that. I was a little drunk,” he chuckles but where he expects a smile he is only met with a hard, cold look. “I guess I was a bit of a jerk,” he admits and earns a half a smile but also a raised eyebrow. “Okay fine, that probably wasn’t my finest hour,” he adds with a rueful smile. She glances away quickly and he is suddenly unsure how to proceed.

He isn’t used to apologizing and bringing that night up has shifted the developing amity between them. Her body language has changed utterly from almost relaxed to tense and defensive and he shifts his focus back to the screens in front of him and goes back to gnawing anxiously on his bottom lip knowing that the next question he has to ask is not going to much to ease the tension at all.

“So...if we hadn’t shown up that day...was I ever going to know?” A quick glance towards her and he can see the answer written in the tension of her jaw line and the way she suddenly hunches her shoulders forward as if she’s trying to hide within herself.

“It’s not like I could just walk up to you on the street and tell you,” she snaps defensively and he silently concedes the point by nodding when she shoots him a hard look. “I thought...I mean, maybe after I was thinking I might send you a letter or something.”

“A letter...I bet that would have ended up in Mario’s hands. I can just imagine how that would have gone down,” he nearly laughs at the thought but with a sigh decided that he is better off now than he would have been had a mysterious letter delivered the news.

“See?” she hisses, glaring at him from where she is huddled in the corner of the big dark leather sofa. “You make it sound like I’m the one that’s done something wrong,” she adds, crossing her arms and staring straight ahead with a decidedly unhappy look on her face.

“No, I mean...that’s not what I meant by it,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb in exasperation. “Why is it everything I try to..? Look, it was just a question. I just wanted to know if you’re planning on shutting me out of his life before I offer to let you have my house.”

“Your house?” she whispers, turning to stare at him, wide eyed and very obviously disbelieving.

“I don’t actually live there yet, but it’s mine,” he explains quickly, adding, “I’ve been doing some renos but I don’t really like the idea of living alone so....”

“You still live with Mario?” she asks, looking as if she might laugh at his answer. Sighing, he nods. It is far from the first time he has been made fun of for remaining as his boss’s ward despite the fact that he is young and wealthy enough to live like a king. “But you have your own house,” she continues, not bothering to hide her amusement.

“So far I’ve only used it for when family comes to town,” he shrugs. “We can go look at it if you want. If you like it...I mean, maybe if you think it’s a good idea but if you don’t...,” he continues, unsure still if his idea is really a good one or if he’s pushing too hard.

“Wait...you’re offering for me to stay at your house? Cuz you were basically calling me a liar not so long ago,” she points out, her bemused smile fading as the reticence he’s more used to seeing in her eyes takes over.

“Yeah, well...like I said, I’m trying not to be such an ass,” he points out again. She nods and the corner of her mouth twitches until she is almost smiling again.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he asks, realizing as he does that he feels both relieved and just a little euphoric as she nods. “Okay, let’s go,” he agrees, getting to his feet and holding his hand out to help her up. She looks at his hand and then up at him and she still looks like one of those strays behind bars at the SPCA, the ones you’re not sure if they want to bite your hand or be petted by it. He considers withdrawing his hand when her fingers softly caress his palm and a shock runs up his arm as his fingers close around her hand.