“So, Pop…are you and Mom getting married or are you going to keep co-parenting after we go back to California?” Max asked.
Lena nearly choked on her ice cream when Max asked his father that. They were strolling around Copley Place, an upscale mall just a few minutes’ drive from the brownstone, eating ice cream that she never would have allowed, even on a summer school night, if Max hadn’t “please, mom’ed her into it. Keane, she suspected, after losing that ice cream battle, was becoming a bad influence on her son, who now seemed to think he could negotiate his way into anything.
And now, she was even more concerned that Keane was using their son to push his agenda.
Thirty days, she’d told him instead of saying yes. Thirty days of no more secrets and no more lies, to make sure this thing between them was solid, something that could last.
He’d agreed reluctantly, but now it looked like instead of waiting as he’d promised to do at the beginning of August, he’d decided to get their son involved.
No, wait, Lena, is that really true? Maybe you should collect more information. The rare occurrence of the practical voice inside her head actually siding with Keane, stalled her suspicious thoughts. And instead of glaring at him, she tried running through one of the DBT exercises she’d learn this summer of observing her feelings and the situation without judgement.
They were eating ice cream, and she thought Keane’s eyebrows had lifted at Max’s question, he hadn’t answered, she noted.
“Why do you ask that?” she decided to inquire, instead of assuming she knew exactly what or who was behind this.
“The other guys on the team keep asking if I’m going to stay now that I know Keane’s my dad. And Pavel said I should tell you two to get married, so that I could stay in Boston and we can be a real family. That’s what he did with his parents to get them to adopt him together.”
Wow…
She found herself exchanging an amused look with Keane, who surprised her by not saying anything, even though this would have been the perfect time to pressure her to say yes to his proposal before it was time.
“How do you feel about Pavel’s suggestion?”
Max gave his ice cream a thoughtful lick. “I mean, it would be cool if you get married. I like Pop, and he’s a wicked good skater.”
“Wicked great,” Keane corrected, like Max misquoted something written in the Constitution.
“Wicked great,” Max edited with a laugh. “But you’re my mom. And you always stand by me. So I stand by you, no matter what.”
His words so touched her heart, she couldn’t speak. Luckily Keane was there to pick up the conversation baton when she could not. “You know what, kid? You’re really friggin’ loyal. That’s the same thing I’ve always like about your ma.”
Her heart squeezed, because once again Keane had taken the high road instead going for the kill. She’d always thought it’d been about winning and only about winning with Keane, but obviously he had changed.
And so had she, she realized, as she confessed to Max, “Your father and I are dating right now. And we’re trying to figure out our next steps. But obviously I have to go back to California, at least for a year or so to set up the DBT program at my practice. But after that…”
She found Keane’s eyes above Max’s head. “We’ll see.”
“Yeah, we’ll see,” Keane said softly, his tender gaze burning into hers.
“Cool,” Max said. Then he asked, “Hey, Pop, is the place you’re building on top of Dad’s store going to look like this?”
Lena felt some mental whiplash from the sudden change of subject, but Keane just laughed and rolled with it.
“Nah, Dorchester Grove is going to be ten times better. We’ll have a few upscale brands and a Whole Foods, but I’m not looking to completely change the neighborhood. We’re putting in a mix of luxury condos and affordable housing units, so that everyone who used to live on that block doesn’t get displaced. And we’re working with Cal-Mart to put in a smaller version of their superstore, so the people who don’t want to go to Whole Foods or pay top prices for upscale goods still have some options.”
“Will you have a EasyStop in there?” Max asked.
“No,” Keane answered, with a bemused shake of his head. “Why do you think we need a convenience store when we already have two kinds of groceries going in?”
“Because it’s easier,” Max answered. “Mom hates going to Target when she only needs one thing. Plus, if you give Dadaji back his EasyStop, maybe he’ll stop hating you.”
Lena winced. “Um, hates a strong word, Max.”
“Yeah, tell that to Dadaji,” Max answered with a snort.
Fair enough. Her father still referred to Keane as The Demon Who Took My Store, like that was the name on his birth certificate.
Keane surprised her yet again, by saying, “You know what, I’m going to give that suggestion some thought. You’re good at this stuff, kid. Chip off the old block.”
It felt like Lena’s heart was glowing as Max preened under the compliment. Yes…
She was definitely going to say yes when the thirty days were up on Wednesday, she decided.
Then she tentatively slipped her hand into his for the first time in front of their son, admitting to herself that “this thing between them” had a name.
Love.
“So now that you and Lena are bumping uglies, you’re like, ‘Who’s Vihaan?’ I don’t remember him!” a faintly accented voice accused.
“Vihaan? Why are you calling me from Max’s phone?” Keane asked, getting up from the table where he’d been meeting with the lead architects from the Dorchester Grove project to go over some last minute changes. “I thought it was an emergency.”
“I’m calling from Max’s phone, because I didn’t have your number, so that I could tell you I wasn’t allowed in past the cubbies, because your best friend, decided to change the parent passcode for the outer door! Why aren’t you here today, anyway? I am in serious need of some back up.”
“I had to schedule an emergency meeting, which is still going on by the way. So can you just ask the front desk for a new one and get off my kid’s phone?” Keane shot the architects an apologetic look.
Keane got a bunch of “no problem” waves and murmurs back. Probably because they were getting paid by the fucking hour, while his kid’s uncle gnashed his teeth over a stupid passcode.
“I did. But the teenager running the front desk informed me that William has decided to change the code every Tuesday, and only those who are picking up can have the code. She said it’s a new safety measure, but you know that’s bullshit. Like, it had to be on Tuesday?”
Yeah, that was definitely bullshit, though it’d been so long since he heard anyone call Con anything but his old hockey nickname or Coach, that he’d nearly asked who this William guy was and why he thought he had the authority to change the lock policy.
As it was, Keane sighed and said, “Okay, I’ll talk to him.”
“When? I got gulab jamus for dessert!”
“Will it keep? We’re doing this thing over at Lena’s dad’s, tomorrow. You can come.”
Keane couldn’t see him, but he could hear the squinted eyes in Vihaan’s voice when he asked, “Rajiv Kumar invited you to his house.”
“You coming or not?” Keane asked, refusing to answer the unspoken question.
“Oh, I will be there!” Vihaan assured him. “I’ve got to see this. I might bring a doctor, too, just to make sure Mr. Kumar hasn’t had a stroke.”
Keane hung up without bothering to explain why he was having this special dinner. His serious hockey player days were long behind him, but the same thing that had used to make him tap the Nikolai Rustanov card he kept taped in his helmet three times before every game, kept him from spilling the beans to Vihaan.
One more day…
Lena hadn’t said yes to his marriage. Instead she’d said, “I know you want us to just jump into this again, like we did when we were kids. But we’re just now learning to trust each other enough to admit we really liked each other back in the day. Give this a month. Give us a month to make sure we’re really solid. No more secrets. No more mind games. Just one month of being decent to each other and proving we have what it takes to be a real couple. Then, you know, actually ask me, and I promise to say yes.”
One more month. Much like he’d once asked her for just one kiss to prove he wasn’t full of shit.
It wasn’t his ideal arrangement, but Keane had taken what he could get. And the month had passed by unexpectedly fast. No fights. Lots of great food and even better sex. And so far, no period yet, even though twenty-nine days had passed since she made her promise.
All signs we’re pointing to Keane finally getting everything he wanted that summer. And he refused to jinx it.
But he did keep his promise to Vihaan, about talking to Con the next day. Not just because he had no intention of giving up Indian Tuesdays, but he also wanted him there when he proposed to Lena that night. Plus, he had to talk with him about the process of making all the elite Keane Academy teams open to tryouts from either gender, without a reporting requirement—which would probably be a long conversation with someone as old school as Con.
It was Con’s day off, so Keane decided to drive over to his house. He lived on a couple of acres outside the city. Not a farm like the one he grew up on, but most of his spare time went to growing corn, tomatoes, and a whole bunch of other crops, that he usually ended up passing on to some local food shelter.
The point of all this working the land was beyond a city guy like Keane. He needs a woman, Keane thought, not for the first time, as he knocked on the white door of Con’s barn-red 1920’s three-bedroom ranch. When he didn’t receive an answer, he also wondered why Con didn’t take his advice and get a doorbell for this place already.
No answer, but Keane could hear Con’s workout mix blasting even from here. Same one as high school. Vince Neil was screaming at some girl to kickstart his heart, so that meant he’d be working his lats in the second bedroom he’d converted into a home gym.
Keane let himself in, using the key Con had given him five years ago when he first bought this place.
The house was sparkling clean as if Con, like Keane, paid a daily cleaning service. He didn’t. But two tours with the Army had never wore off—yet another reason, he was afraid Con might decide to dig his heels in about making the team gender blind.
Lucky, it was his fuckin’ name on the academy sign, Keane thought, already preparing his “go fuck yourself” argument as he strode down the hallway.
Only to stop short, his eyes widening to saucers.
No, he didn’t find Con in the second bedroom working his lats.
He found one of his oldest friends in the master bedroom. Working his abductors, core and hip flexors, …
…with a writhing Vihaan on his elbows and knees underneath, groaning, “Oh fuuck! Oh fuuuuck! Oh—”
Vihaan froze when he saw Keane standing in the hallway. “Oh fuck!” he said again.
But this time not nearly for the same reason.