The setting sun washed Boston’s old brick buildings with rose pink light, and the bare branches in the park interlocked like black ironwork against the sky. While Kylie ran ahead to see the ducks, May and Martin walked slowly behind. “Martin Cartier!” a bunch of kids called, surrounding him. He autographed their notebooks, whatever they had, but when a thirty-something couple approached him, he just shook his head and shepherded May quickly away. As they walked, he had his arm around her shoulders. Passing behind a lilac bush, he couldn’t keep his hands off of her. They stopped to kiss, and May felt how much he wanted her. Their time apart made their time together wild and passionate. He started tugging her toward the bushes, and she laughed, resisting. “Let’s go home,” he said. “Great idea,” she said. “I wish the season was over already, eh?” “It almost is. You’ll definitely make the play-offs.” “And then the Cup. I’ll win it for you.” “I’ll take it,”
