by Brown, Tara
The seating is less formal but the crowds are separated accordingly, so I find my way over to sit with Brady and Matt where I interrupt a Jenny discussion.
“Team Canada?” Nat’s eyes are wide when she focuses over at Bev who is chatting Jenny’s ear off. “That’s impressive.”
“What’s impressive is how much Bev likes her.” Sami nods her head in their direction.
“Yeah, Matt, your cousin is the scariest girl I’ve met in my life, and Jenny has her wanting to have sleepovers and braid each other’s hair. She must be cool,” Nat admits.
“The coolest.” Brady sighs and we all laugh, even Nat who shakes her head.
“Brady, between you and Bev, Jenny will have to get a restraining order.” Sami scoffs.
“You didn’t see it,” Brady shouts, his eyes wide and impassioned. “She was like a ginger Lara Croft at paintball—” He freezes.
Matt closes his eyes and sighs.
Sami rolls her eyes as we all pause. “Like I didn’t know you were going there. The moment Lori came and did his team pep talk, I realized something was up.”
Nat laughs. “Busted.”
“Anyway”—Carson points at Brady—“he’s not exaggerating. It was insane. And even weirder, she and Bev are like simpatico.”
“It was intense,” Rich agrees and hands me a big mug of stout.
“It was fucking unbelievable,” Matt chimes in. “I’ve never seen such a show of teamwork and instinct. She’s a savage.”
“You should see how savage she is when she doesn’t like you,” I add, earning a nudge from Carson.
“That was just some foreplay, my dude. She likes you now. I can tell by the way she keeps touching her hair and smiling at you.”
“Do we know if she’s single?” Nat taps my foot with her high heel, brushing her tanned calf against my pants.
“Surely not.” Sami waves that off and a hint of spicy vanilla escapes her and rides the subtle breeze to me.
“Doesn’t matter, Lori’s scared of her,” Brady says casually. “He knows she needs a real man.”
“Which takes you off the list of possible suitors,” I hit back.
“How dare you, Lawrence! How dare you suggest I would stray from my beautiful fiancée.” Brady feigns disgust and wraps an arm over Nat who laughs and shoves him off her.
“Jenny has two gold medals and the silkiest hair I’ve ever seen. If she plays video games with half the ability she plays paintball, I’m leaving you for her. I guarantee my chances are better than either of you two knuckle draggers,” Nat drops a bomb comeback and we all, “Oooh.”
Brady nods, grinning and blushing. He has nothing for that.
“Well, we won’t be finding out this week, will we?” Sami lifts an expressive eyebrow at Nat, and it’s her turn to blush and press her lips together, visibly sorry for bringing the PlayStation. Sami lowers her voice and leans into Matt and me to whisper, “Changing the subject though, what is up with Cap and the other PR girl?”
“Sukii,” Nat whispers.
“Right, are they blatantly screwing as if he isn’t married and there isn’t a major conflict of interest with her working for the NHL’s PR company?” Sami’s knowing stare fixes on them as they walk over sporting a post-sex glow, choosing to sit where the team is sitting.
My eyes dart to Jenny as we all turn that way, finding disappointment on her face. It’s a flash, there one second and gone the next. She fakes a smile the way all agents and representatives do, but I see through it.
“What’s up with his wife not coming?” Nat asks.
“Maybe things haven’t been going well for them and he didn’t want to talk about it.” Carson shrugs.
Matt mutters, “Not all relationships can withstand the hockey season.” He leans in and kisses Sami’s cheek. There’s something weirdly pure about seeing him be touchy-feely in front of people. His love for her is painfully obvious.
And while it stings, I wouldn’t want it any other way for her.
13
Starlight
Friday, June 16
Jenny
“He says they’re getting a divorce. Cap hasn’t told the team yet, but I swear, they’re not even living together,” Sukii defends herself as I pace my small living room. “I wouldn’t do that but neither would he. He’s a good guy, Jenny. His wife, Sandy, left him last summer. He’s crushed. Played the whole season with a broken heart.”
“Okay, fine.” I throw my hands in the air. “If you believe he’s telling the truth, whatever. But if this leaks, Stan is gonna—”
“It won’t. I swear. He’s already invited me to stay at his place in Cape Cod. He’s talking dating, not just having sex.”
I part my lips to shout DUHHH, but the hopeful expression in her watery eyes forces me to snap my mouth shut. You can’t take twenty-eight years of knowledge and force it down someone’s throat. Sukii will have to learn the hard way that hockey players are hockey players. They’re gross and skeezy, and they will say whatever it takes to get into your pants and hand your number off to their friend when they’re done with you. Regardless of how cute they are or how well they fill out their tee shirt or how nice their smile is.
I need to get a handle on my attraction to a certain player. There’s no chance Lawrence is different from the others. And neither is Cap.
I’ve seen it a million times.
“Where is he now?” I ask.
“The rehearsal dinner. The wedding party and close friends are all there. I’m glad us peasants are on our own for the night. I need some down time.” She walks to my Louis Vuitton bag and pulls the top open to peek. “Did you see Friday’s bag already?”
“Yeah, I open them in the morning with my coffee.” I have to admit, Sami has won me over with this wedding. Her gift bags alone speak volumes about the thought she puts into other people, something I never would have imagined her capable of.
“Have you taken a bath with the salts from Wednesday yet? They’re amazing. My skin is so soft.” Sukii opens the French hand cream that came in today’s bag and takes a sniff.
“No, maybe that’s what I’ll do this evening. Since we’re free.”
She glances up. “Promise you’re not mad at me.”
“I swear, not mad. Just hoping you’re being smart and careful. Athletes are known for womanizing.” It’s more than I should say.
“I know. It’s not like I’ll end up with him, but maybe we’ll have some fun and hot sex . . .” Her voice trails off and it’s obvious she wants this to become something.
“But keep your eyes open and expect the worst.” I raise my glass of sparkling water at her. “That is my new motto.” I drink it back, loving the feel of the bubbles on my throat.
“And on that positive note, I’ll leave you to enjoy your solitary evening.” She chuckles. “Let’s ride over together tomorrow for the wedding.” She blows a kiss and saunters out my front door and across the path to her own cottage.
The sun is setting, lighting the sky with oranges and pinks. I take my water out to the porch and sit with a blanket curled around me.
In the silence everything slows down, and my head starts to take in the last couple of days.
My mind does a slow dance through certain aspects of the wedding, making me embarrassed and wishing it had gone differently, particularly with Lawrence, but I find I’m also quite happy with other events. Meeting Beverly and the family I can’t believe Matt Brimley belongs to, filled with normal people who have nothing but funny stories and sassy accents. The few times I’ve seen him with them makes me like him more.
Slowly but surely, my mind tiptoes to Ben.
Has he noticed I’m gone?
Did he stop by my apartment to find I’m not there?
Are the movers there and he’s panicking?
Has he been trying to call me or called someone to check on me?
As delightful as I thought this would feel, there’s some icky guilt. I’m not sure if I should be proud of gh
osting him or ashamed or a bit of both.
“You look deep in thought,” a voice interrupts from the shadows.
I lift my head to find Lawrence walking by the front of my place to his.
He stops, grinning under the dim streetlight, and I realize the sun has gone down while I’ve been out here.
“I’d say a penny for your thoughts, but I’m scared I might have to pull out my checkbook.”
“It’s just so quiet here,” I reply before thinking and I’m sure it sounds crazy.
But he walks to me, nodding. “I know, it’s as if the stillness requires extra contemplations as payment for the peace.” It’s the smartest thing I’ve heard from a guy like him.
“Ex-exactly,” I stammer and have to agree.
“I keep finding myself startled back from the oblivion of daydreaming.” He doesn’t continue walking. “I don’t recall the last time I felt so peaceful in a place.”
“Right.” I change the subject to avoid getting deep with him, “Shouldn’t you be at the rehearsal dinner?”
“I rehearsed all I could and escaped out the back when no one was looking.” He points at the lake. “Actually, I escaped because that old guy, Sam, says there’s going to be a meteor shower, and if we lie on the dock or float in the middle of the lake, we’ll be able to see it clearly. I guess the moon rose early and now it’s gone so the sky should be dark enough.” He shrugs.
“Oh really? I’ve never seen one of those—” I pause, realizing it sounds like I’m inviting myself.
“Yeah, me either. I was gonna grab a blanket to lie on. I don’t think my back can handle the dock for hours.” He hesitates as if realizing how awkward this is between us here alone in the dim light, him being so cute and me being so single. “I think other people are coming. Bev said maybe. You should come.”
“Sure.” How can I say no after sounding so into it? “Let me grab something to lie on too.” I hurry inside and grab the thick fleecy throw from the sofa and a bottle of sparkling water and rush back out.
He meets me at my stairs holding a blanket and a few beers. His eyes are wide and earnest now. That schoolboy spark is there, and I remind myself that instead of putting on lip gloss, I need to fight finding him attractive because it’s not possible. Not someone like him, so much younger and a hockey player.
“Ready?” he asks though it’s obvious I am.
“Yeah.” I grin like an idiot.
Oh God, I want to kiss him. His lips are so perfect. And the way his stare finds mine makes me believe he wants to kiss me too. I wrinkle my nose and tell myself I’m reading too much into everything and forgetting my hockey player rule.
“Okay,” he says and it takes a minute for us to stop staring at each other.
It’s awkward as hell but we start walking to the lake. On the downhill part of the path, I notice he has a slight limp and cling to that as a topic to discuss. “Did you hurt your leg in that last game?” I ask, pretending I didn’t watch it or know the exact moment he was injured. I nearly threw my beer watching it with my dad.
“Yeah, it’s a charley horse.”
“Did you roll it out?”
“I did but then I ran a little too hard yesterday morning and again during the paintball game,” his voice cracks with a laugh. “That’s still such a surprise.”
“What?”
“That you’re so cool,” his voice wavers and certainly he regrets saying it, but it’s done and out there. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Not like that. You just seemed so tense and rigid when we met—”
“I was having an off day that afternoon.” I wince, the humiliation lingering.
“Yes, you were.” He laughs louder. “What luck, eh? That second time in the bathroom—it had to be so uncomfortable for you.” He’s full belly laughing but I can’t. I’m dying.
“It was the ladies’,” I defend myself but it’s weak.
“Oh I agree.” He holds a hand up. “It was totally my fault. I never locked the doors.” He shakes his head, chuckling. “At least it was just you. Imagine if it was Matt’s mom or worse, his sister-in-law?” He jokes and I relax a bit and convince myself his joking around means he sees me as one of the guys. A safe spot my whole life when it came to other hockey players.
“What’s the deal with Matt’s mom and sister-in-law?” I keep the conversation flowing in that direction. “Are the sticks permanently lodged or do they have new ones put up there every morning?”
“New ones every morning, I imagine. They probably have different kinds of sticks for different moods.”
“Why bother having moods if the Botox prevents you from expressing them?” I say cruelly and we grin at each other. “That was mean, wasn’t it?”
“It was.” And our eyes stay locked for a second too long. “So you’re funny, a great dancer, an all-star hockey player, and an assassin.” He beams back. “You should have led with that the first day.”
Was that flirting?
“Oh my God, I want to pretend it didn’t happen.” Am I flirting?
“Me too.” He sneers. “Shouting at you on the docks like you were some paparazzi who snuck in to sneak photos. What a dick.”
“No, you were protecting your friend, an admirable quality,” I defend him which visibly surprises us both when we stare at each other again.
Somehow conversing and being nice to one another isn’t making the awkwardness go away. It’s intensifying, securing my expectation we’re totally going to kiss.
Our hollow footsteps fill the uncomfortable silence until we reach the end of the dock, and as luck would have it, no one else is here yet. He flings out his blanket and I do the same. I fold mine in half to make it extra comfy.
“Good call.” He does the same then offers me a beer.
“I’m good, thanks. Taking a bank holiday from drinking for liver health.” I place my water next to me and lie back, adjusting to the firmness of the dock despite my blanket.
There are no lights out here and the restaurants and houses are far enough away that they don’t interfere with the sky.
The lake laps with the gentle breeze, and we lie next to each other like embarrassed summer camp kids who are far enough apart we feel the extra distance we added so as not to make it weird, but now it is.
“The last time I saw the sky this clear I was in Tofino,” I offer, filling the silence.
“I love it there.”
“When I was there, it was my first time doing mushrooms.” I laugh. “I was sixteen and we had a game in Port Alberni. Our coach took us to Tofino to stay at his friend’s resort. One of the guys on my team had a friend who lived there, and he got us some drugs to do on the beach. We snuck out and got high and listened to the waves. It was trippy.”
“If you don’t do mushrooms in Tofino as a teenager, are you even Canadian?”
“No.” I sigh. “Do you miss the West Coast now that you’re in New York?”
“I don’t miss life there. You know? Like New York is such a center and it feels like the world revolves around it. I do miss the ocean back home and how it seems colder and fresher. And how the rain clears the air there, whereas on the East Coast, it makes it heavier and you’re never free of it.” He turns to face me. I don’t look, but I hear the wrinkle of the blanket and see movement in my peripheral. “Apparently, I only miss the weather. How about you?”
“I don’t miss the weather, but I miss the island. I never go back.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a long story.” I don’t want to talk about it, but when I turn my head, he’s staring as if waiting patiently for his entertainment. “Fine.” I laugh. “I grew up in Port McNeill and my brother left when I was starting grade twelve. He and his band began touring once they found a permanent drummer.” I pause wishing I hadn’t said that.
“Was that a problem?”
“Good drummers are tough to find.” I glance back at the stars. “Anyway, my dad was retiring from the RCMP that year. So right before my gra
duation, he went home to Nova Scotia for a high school reunion and met up with Judith, his old classmate. I guess he and Judith were high school sweethearts and had wondered about each other over the years. As soon as I left for college, he sold the house on the island and moved to Halifax to be with her. They got married a few months later. Their wedding was precisely two years after my mom died, to the day.” I wish I’d left the last part out. It’s too real to share.
“Two years after she died?” He’s outraged for me.
“Yup.”
“Wow.” He whistles and maybe wants to add his thoughts but doesn’t. “How’d she die? Your mom?”
“Cancer. It was a long fight, five years. In the end, she made us promise we would do all the things we wanted. We would live to the fullest.” Tears threaten my eyes so I focus on the sky, not daring to look at him.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“Is Judith cool?”
“Yeah—no, she’s the worst. Which means I don’t see my dad much. Judith is the boss level of stepmoms, a real—cow.” I usually use a different c-word, but I don’t know him well enough to pull that bad boy out. “Josh never sees them either. It’s shitty actually.”
“Does she have kids of her own?”
“Oh yes.” I pause. “I have a stepsister who is the apple of her mother’s eye and can do no wrong. And Josh and I can do no right.” It’s too far and I’m ashamed I said it aloud.
“You’d think being a stepmom you would try to be the best, ya know? Not to encourage the stereotype Disney has promoted.” He says it nonchalantly and I burst out laughing, losing one accidental tear down the side of my cheek he can’t see. For the second time, he has surprised me with his wit, and I’m grateful for the save.
“Exactly.” I finish laughing and focus back on the starry night.
“And your brother is in LA?”
“Yeah, the famous Josh Snowdon.”
“The lead singer of Twin Peeks?” He turns his head again and stares at me.
“That’s him.”
“Jesus, any Nobel Prize winners to go with the famous Canadian-musician son and gold-medal-winning daughter?”