Page 23 of Grasp The Moment

“Well… When life gives you lemons?—”

“You make a fucking lemon drop.”

10.Derek

Blondie

Good luck tonight, kick some Michigan ass!!!

Blondie

#ROARRSSSS #BIGBLUE #BIGORANGE

Sighing,I lean my head against my living room's leather couch and shut my eyes.

“This is the life…” I exhale, letting my body sink into the worn brown leather.

Last night we played against the Michigan Sabers, and the game was intense. I spent about ten minutes in the ice bath immediately after the game, and now, after two days away from home, I’m finally back in Maryland. It’s been ten days since I last saw Georgia, but we’ve texted daily since Vegas. She’s sent videos of her and the dog, pictures of pieces she’s working on, and good-luck texts for my games and practices. I’ve sentphotos of Deli getting ready for school, as well as the different meals that I’ve cooked for her and the guys this past week.

It’s safe to say we’ve created a good rapport between the two of us, especially since we haven’t seen one another since leaving Sin City. Georgia’s been busy with classes and working on a new piece. I’ve been busy getting acclimated to the spring semester and the second half of the hockey season.

The chime of my front door alarm alerts me to my mother and daughter’s entrance to the house. Grinning softly, I pretend to be asleep as Delilah calls out to me from the front door.

“Papá, I’m home!” she yells at the top of her lungs as the sound of her little feet padding in the living room announces her arrival.

Delilah wastes zero time climbing onto the couch and plopping down on my lap.

“Papá?” she whispers, poking my cheek before her cold, nimble fingers lift one of my eyelids.

“RAHHH!!!” I screech, grabbing her up in my arms and tickling her.

The sounds of her giggles and soft calls of my name echo throughout the apartment as I laugh along, tickling my daughter. Delilah typically comes to every game that I have, but since the previous one was an away game in Michigan, I had to leave her with my mom.

My mother and I haven’t had a real conversation since I left Vegas. When I dropped off Delilah on Thursday night, our talk was as small as small talk could get. She texted an occasional update on my daughter, but other than that, it’s been radio silent between us.

“Mhm… I just find it funny how?—”

Herewe fucking go…

Exhaling deeply, I stop tickling Delilah. “Go play in your room while abuela?1 and I talk, okay?”

She frowns and juts out her bottom lip, giving me the largest, most adorable puppy dog eyes.

I tilt my head at her and raise a brow. She’s not getting over on me that easily… not right now, at least.

Delilah sighs, rubbing her eyes. “Okay… but can we watch a movie when we eat dinner? Abuela doesn’t like ‘chow watch’ so we didn’t do it at her house.” She pouts, grabbing my hands with her tiny ones.

Leaning in close to her face, I break out in a grin. “That’s because it’sourthing, Sunshine… Now go, or else there will be zero ‘chow watch’ tonight.”

As if the floor was lava, Delilah hauls ass to the back of the apartment, where her bedroom is, leaving my mother and me alone in the living room.

“What’s wrong?” I prompt, resting my arms behind my head as my mother takes a seat next to me on the couch.

“Youknowwhat’s wrong, Esteban. Why couldn’t your so-called wife watch Delilah? Is she not a good person? What kind of woman doesn’t take care of her stepchild or at least cook for their family? There’s no food ready.” She frowns, her tone icy as she looks me dead in the eyes.

I’m at a loss for words, taking in everything my mother says.

Was she looking through the kitchen?