by Keeland, Vi
When we were done, I took the bowls to the sink and washed them. Then I pulled out one of the movies and looked around.
“Do you have a DVD player?”
She pointed to the cabinet under the TV and nodded. “In there.”
“I’m glad you have one. I’m not sure why I assumed you did when I bought these. I don’t have one. I just rent stuff on TV if I want to watch something.”
“They don’t put too many of the really old movies on the streaming services. I have to order them on DVD.”
The cabinet under the television was jam-packed with videos and books. On top were a few framed pictures I hadn’t noticed before. I crouched down and picked up one of her and Maggie—from Maggie’s wedding, I assumed, since she was dressed in a wedding gown.
“You look beautiful here.”
Georgia smirked. “As opposed to what I look like now?”
“Nah. You still look good. You can pull off snot on your face like a champ.”
Her eyes bulged, and she wiped at her cheek.
I grinned. “I’m kidding.”
She squinted and shook her head.
I checked out the other framed photos. There was one of her dressed in a cap and gown with her mom at her college graduation, one that she said was her grandmother, and another of Georgia cutting a ribbon with big scissors, which she said was at the opening of her first distribution center. But the one at the very end was face down. I eyed it and looked over at Georgia.
“Did this one fall?”
She shook her head. “It’s of Gabriel and me. I laid it face down before he left after an argument we had, and I guess I forgot it was even there.”
Considering she’d said he left eight months ago and there wasn’t dust on the frame, I wasn’t sure she’d actually forgotten at all. But I was curious about the guy, so I put my hand on the photo and caught Georgia’s eye.
“Mind if I take a look?”
She shook her head, so I turned it over. I don’t think I had a picture of her ex in my mind, yet he looked exactly like I would’ve expected. Tall, thin, good-looking enough… He wore horn-rimmed glasses that made him look like the English professor he was, and he was dressed in a button-down shirt with a cardigan sweater over it and slacks. Georgia was turned to the side and looking up at him with a revered smile on her face. Jealousy coursed through me.
When I looked over at Georgia, I found her watching me. Rather than set the frame back down where it had been, I tucked it inside the cabinet between some books. Turning back, I winked. “I put it away for you.”
She smiled. “You’re so helpful.”
After I finished setting up the DVD player, I grabbed the remote and went back over to the couch. Georgia looked better, so I felt her head.
“I think your fever broke.”
“I actually feel a little better. The soup and Motrin must’ve done it. Thank you.”
Four was stretched out on her lap snoring while she ran her fingers through his fur. I shook my head. “He’s such a ham.”
During the movie, we sat side by side. Georgia rested her head on my shoulder, and at one point, I realized it was no longer only Four snoring. She had conked out, too. So I turned off the TV and attempted to extricate myself without waking her. But when I stood, Four started to dance around on her lap and woke her up.
I lifted him into my arms. “Go back to sleep. Me and furball are going to get going.”
She rubbed her eyes. “Oh, okay.”
“Do you want me to carry you to your room?”
“I think I’m just going to sleep here.”
I picked up a throw pillow that had fallen to the floor and laid it at one end of the couch. Then I lifted her legs and guided her to turn and lie down.
She tucked her hands between her cheek and the pillow and brought her legs up into the fetal position.
I leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Feel better.”
“Thank you.” She closed her eyes. “And Max?”
“Yeah?”
“Happy birthday. I owe you a night out to make up for spoiling your party.”
I smiled. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
CHAPTER 6
* * *
Max
“So I have two things to talk about today.” My agent, Don Goldmann, leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head with a cocky smile. “Do you want the good news first, or the really, really good news?”
“Surprise me.”
“Let’s start with endorsements and work our way up. ProVita wants to extend their Powerade drink deal. I also have offers from Nike, a sports watch company, and Remington, who wants to put your ugly mug in their electric razor commercials for some unknown reason. All told, it’s just shy of three-point-five million.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“And you’re on a team that isn’t even making the playoffs. Think about what you could get if you were on a winning team.”
“Yeah, that’s crazy.”
“I know you like to check out the products before you decide. So I had Samantha make you a nice little care package you can take with you today, or I can have her ship it to your place, if you want.”
“Sounds good.”
Don sat up and folded his hands on his desk. “Now for the real money. We discussed three numbers—the minimum you’d take, what you’d like to get, and your pie in the sky.” He grabbed a pen, jotted some numbers on a Post-it, and slid it across the desk to me.
I lifted it to make sure I was seeing the number correctly. “You’re serious?”
“Eight-year contract. Congratulations, you’re about to become one of the top ten highest-paid players in the National Hockey League.”
I’d been expecting a solid number, but nowhere near this. I wasn’t a twenty-three-year-old spring chicken anymore. Contracts at twenty-nine that span that long aren’t easy to come by. “Wow. That’s fucking amazing.”
Don smiled. “You mean, your agent is fucking amazing.”
“Whatever. Take all the credit, if you want. For that money, I’ll wear a T-shirt that says my agent is fucking amazing.”
Don laughed. “You know I’m getting that shit printed.”
“What about the physical exam? Anything special I have to submit to with that chunk of change?”
“The usual. Labs, EKG and stress test, and a physical exam from an ortho.” Don squinted. “But this isn’t the first time you’ve asked me about the health checkup. Anything you want to tell me?”
I shook my head and swallowed. “Nope.”
He looked me in the eyes. “You sure?”
“Yep.”
“Alright, good. It’ll take a while to hammer out the details, and they have to make some moves to stay under the salary cap. But they want you, and the number is a done deal.”
I stuck around after that to talk about all the deals rumored to be in the works with other agents. Don loved to talk shop, mostly because his roster of clients was filled with heavy hitters, and most other deals paled in comparison. But he deserved to pat himself on the back. He worked his ass off and was damn good at his job.
After, I was on my way to practice when my brother called.
“What’s up, Altar Boy?” he asked.
Tate had nicknamed me that after an unfortunate incident when I was six and he was eleven. My parents were out one night, and he’d convinced me that we had another brother I had never met, who was a year older than him. He’d told me this brother had gone mad and lived in the shed in our yard. Unbeknownst to me, there was someone, or rather something living in there—a family of raccoons that my dad had just discovered that day and had yet to get rid of. He’d left the door open that night, hoping maybe they’d find their own way out.
Anyway…when it got dark, Tate made me go out into the yard and then locked me out. I started to cry and bang on the door because I was scared the brother who had gone crazy was going to get me. At one point, I heard a
loud bang from behind me, and when I turned around, all I could see were two glowing eyes standing at the shed. I freaked out, crying and screaming, but Tate wouldn’t let me back in until I got on my knees and said three Hail Marys. Of course, he videoed it from the window. When he showed it to my other brothers, my nickname became Altar Boy.
“What’s up, asswipe?”
“I called you for your birthday, but you didn’t pick up.”
“Sorry. I was watching a movie and turned my ringer off. Four fell asleep, and when he gets woken up scared, he pisses. I didn’t want to be pissed on.”
“Ah…so your dog is a lot like you when you were little.”
“Fuck off.”
Someone listening to our conversation might think we didn’t get along. But Tate and I were tight.
“You watched a movie on your birthday? Damn, you’re getting old. I figured you didn’t answer because you were out with some puck bunny. Anyway, I just called to make sure we’re still on for dinner tomorrow night? Not that I want to see your butt-ugly face, but my girls are bugging the crap out of me, asking if Four is coming.”
“We’ll be there.”
“Alright, good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I swiped to end the call as my phone buzzed with an incoming text.
Georgia: Hey. I wanted to say thank you again for last night. It was really thoughtful of you to bring me everything you did.
I typed back.
Max: My pleasure. How are you feeling today?
Georgia: A lot better. My fever is gone, and my throat is almost back to normal. My energy is coming back, so I might even run out to Home Depot to get a cock gun to fix my tub.
My brows shot up. A cock gun?
Before I could ask, another text came in.
Georgia: Oh my God. Autocorrect. A caulk gun. I meant a caulk gun. LOL.
I chuckled and typed back.
Max: That’s too bad. I was going to offer to come over and bring my cock gun to help with whatever you need.
Georgia: LOL. Anyway, I’m feeling a lot better. Thank you.
Max: Glad to hear it.
Georgia: I feel bad about ruining your birthday.
That gave me an idea.
Max: How bad? Want to make it up to me?
The circles started to jump around as she typed. Then they stopped for a full minute before they finally started again.
Georgia: I don’t think it’s smart for me to answer yes to that question, without knowing what you have in mind.
I smiled. Smart woman.
Max: Nothing too devious. But I could use some company tomorrow night. I have a birthday dinner at my brother’s. You coming will ward off my sister-in-law spending half the night telling me about her friends and trying to set me up.
Georgia: LOL. Birthday dinner at your brother’s. That sounds harmless enough. Sure, I’ll come. It’s the least I can do for ruining your birthday.
Max: Can you cut out of work at four? It will take us an hour or so to get there.
Georgia: I think I can arrange that. My boss is pretty cool.
Max: She also has a great ass. ;) I’ll see you tomorrow.
And here I thought my day couldn’t get any better.
CHAPTER 7
* * *
Georgia
“So how did things go with your cock gun?” Max flashed a grin before returning his eyes to the road.
I chuckled. “It went well. But I guess I have a confession to make. My texts sometimes get mangled because I use Siri to read them to me and voice text to respond. It’s quicker because of my dyslexia. I guess I should be more careful.”
Max shrugged. “Nah, not with me. Do whatever is easiest for you. I figured it was autocorrect. Though if you ever do need a cock gun, I’m your man.”
I smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“What’s it like, anyway? Having dyslexia.”
“It’s frustrating at times. Have you ever gotten really drunk and tried to read something? You can’t quite make out the words, so you’re squinting at the paper, but you’re also rocking back and forth so you just can’t grasp the letters with your focus? It kind of looks like a bunch of symbols that don’t make too much sense.”
“Is this a trick question to assess my character?”
My brows drew together. “No.”
“Then the answer is yes.”
I laughed. “Well, that’s sort of what reading can be like for me.”
“Doesn’t seem like it’s stopped you from doing much.”
I shook my head. “In some ways, I think it actually helped me. It taught me a work ethic at a young age.”
Max put on his blinker and got off at the next exit—the Van Wyck Expressway.
“Umm… Where are we going?”
He grinned. “I told you. My brother’s for dinner.”
I looked around. “Does your brother live at the airport?”
Max had arrived at my apartment in a sleek, black convertible Porsche with Four in a small travel caddy in the backseat. He’d said it took about an hour to get to his brother’s, so I’d assumed he lived in Westchester or Long Island.
“I have practice at eight AM tomorrow. I promise I won’t have you out too late.”
“But where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
We passed a dozen color-coded signs for all the different terminals at JFK, yet Max never turned. Instead, he exited onto an area that looked industrial, a combination of airplane hangars and office buildings. A few blocks down, he pulled into a parking lot.
“Are we here?” I looked at the sign hanging from the building. “What’s Empire?”
He smirked. “It’s driving you crazy, isn’t it?”
A guy in Dockers and a polo walked out from the building. He strolled directly to Max’s car and opened the driver’s side door.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Yearwood. We’re all ready for you.”
Max shut off the ignition and tossed the keys to the guy. “Thanks, Joe.” He got out of the car, jogged around to my side, and opened my door, extending a hand to help me out. Then he grabbed the dog from the backseat.
“Did I forget to mention that my brother lives in Boston? Empire is a private jet company.”
“You have a private jet?”
He shook his head. “The owner of my team does. He lets us use it whenever we need to.”
Max kept my hand after helping me out of the car. He entwined our fingers, and we walked hand in hand to the door.
“I’ve never been on a private plane. So I’m impressed,” I said. “But I’m still not sleeping with you.”
“So I should have them take the rose petals off the bed in the back then?”
I stopped. “You’re kidding, right?”
Max winked. “Of course. The flight up to Boston is only forty minutes. I need way more time than that when I get you under me.”
• • •
A black Town Car waited on the tarmac when we landed. It scooped us up and began the drive into downtown Boston. A half hour later, we pulled to the curb in a residential neighborhood—a really nice one on the outskirts of the Charles River in an area called Back Bay.
“Are we here?”
Max nodded and pointed to a beautiful, old building. “Remember how I told you my oldest brother had to come bail my ass out when I got into a little trouble gambling during college?”
“Yes?”
“Well, I don’t think I mentioned that Tate stuck around for a few days after that. On the last night he was supposed to be here, we went out to a local bar, and he met a girl named Cassidy. They hit it off, so he wound up canceling his flight and staying three weeks longer. He’s a programmer, so he can work from anywhere. When he finally went back to Washington, he lasted two weeks before he packed his shit and moved to Boston. They’ve been married seven years and have three daughters.”
“And they’re the ones who had Four?”
“Yep. Katie is allergic,
but her mom doses her up with antihistamines when I come so the girls can at least have him visit.”
I shook my head. “I still can’t believe you took me on a private plane to Boston for dinner.”
Max smiled. “Are you mad?”
“No. You make things into an adventure. But it is a little odd to be traveling to meet a guy’s family when we’ve only just met ourselves.”
“It won’t seem so strange if you stop thinking of it as meeting the family of the guy you just met and start thinking of it as meeting the family of the guy you’re gonna date all summer.”
I laughed. “Pretty confident of yourself.”
“You gotta put things out there to the universe if there’s any shot you’re gonna get them to happen.”
Through my peripheral vision, I caught motion at Max’s brother’s front door. A woman walked out and smiled and waved. I knew Max had said his brother was older, but this woman looked old enough to be his mom. Still, who was I to judge?
“Is that your sister-in-law?”
“Nope. There’s one more thing I forgot to mention about dinner tonight.”
Max looked a little nervous, which made me nervous. “Oh, God. What else is there?”
His eyes lifted over my shoulder to his brother’s house, and then he brought out the big guns—flashing his dimples the way a little boy who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar might.
“My mom’s in town visiting, too. And all of my brothers and their wives.”
• • •
A little while later, Tate’s wife, Cassidy, and I were alone in the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?” she asked. “I’m sure you could use something after meeting the entire family.”
“Oh, thank God,” I said, only half kidding. “I’m about thirty seconds from searching your bathroom for perfume or mouthwash and chugging the bottle.”
She chuckled and took out two wine glasses. “The Yearwood family is…a lot.”
I sighed. “I had no idea I was meeting the entire family until five minutes ago when we were in the car out front.”