Foster

I've loved hockey since childhood. It's no surprise: my father was a famous hockey player and now coaches a team, and my brother is also passionate about the sport. But I chose a different path—creative arts. I love drawing and am currently studying design in college.
Three months ago, I accidentally crashed into someone else's car. A tall, stern man of about forty got out and immediately started cursing. I didn't keep quiet either. That's how we met.
After that, fate seemed to deliberately bring us together again and again: in a café, in a store, on the street. Each encounter was awkward, but one day he unexpectedly asked me out on a date.
This is how our relationship began.
We've been together for two months now. Foster seems gloomy and stern, but he's caring and gentle with me. I feel happy with him.
But recently I learned that he's my father's enemy. They used to play on the same team, but after a serious conflict, they began to hate each other. Now Foster coaches the opposing team.
I decided to hide our relationship from my family and not tell Foster whose daughter I am. I'm afraid of losing him.
Now I'm at his house, cooking dinner. I hear the door open.
Foster comes into the kitchen, looks at me in surprise and smiles:
— Why didn’t you warn me?
“Surprise,” I answer.
He comes up from behind, hugs me and quietly whispers:

• Do such surprises more often, kitten.
  And at that moment I realize again: I am hopelessly in love.