Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Winnie stares at me with bugged eyes, mouth parted slightly. I stare right back at her.
She turns, walks to the front of the suite that has three rows of plush, leather chairs where VIP guests can watch the game from up high. She braces her hands on the railing as she takes it in, looking back over her shoulder at me. “This is the most you thing I’ve ever seen. It’s… kind of perfect.”
Then she looks back at the projector. “Okay. Important question. What are we watching? Miracle? The Mighty Ducks?”
I smirk as I take the laptop I have hooked to the screen and tap it off sleep mode. “Try again.”
The screen lights up and she takes in the paused opening scene of You’ve Got Mail. She told me on our first date it is her comfort movie.
Her mouth drops open and she moves my way. “You remembered.”
I nab the wicker basket full of snacks. I open it with a dramatic flourish. “I took notes.”
She blinks fast, clearly trying not to melt into a puddle, and I’m pretty proud of myself. “You… made me a movie date with snacks in your hockey arena?”
“Yup.”
She turns back to the screen, sits cross-legged on the blanket, and says, “Okay. Best date ever.”
“It hasn’t even begun,” I point out, dropping beside her.
“I said what I said,” she quips as she bends over the basket and pulls out the Sour Patch candy.
Half an hour in, we’ve made it through most of the popcorn and half a bag of Hi-Chews, which I’d never had before but are quite addictive. Winnie’s shoulder is pressed against mine, her knees tucked up, and every so often, she makes a running commentary about the movie.
“Meg Ryan’s wardrobe was peak nineties librarian chic,” she murmurs.
I look at it with a critical eye. “She looks like she runs a feminist bird-watching society.”
Winnie snorts and swats me with a napkin. “That’s exactly what makes it iconic.”
We fall into a comfortable silence again. Her head dips to my shoulder. Her hand finds mine.
I feel more at peace right now than I have in… maybe ever. Why is that? It’s a chick flick that I’m not all that crazy about, but somehow, I’d do this date over and over again if I could.
While I’m ninety-nine percent over the moon with these new feelings, that one percent terrifies me because my life has officially changed and the future is so unknown. Granted, I’m running full steam ahead toward a future that includes Winnie, but… well, we still have our differences we need to overcome.
“Hey,” she says softly. “Can I say something?”
I shift so I can see her better, the movie continuing without our attention. “Always.”
She chews her lip for a second. “When you were on the road trip… I missed you. Like, really missed you. And it scared the hell out of me.”
My stomach tightens. “Yeah. Same.”
Her brows rise. “Really? You’re scared.”
“First… it’s scary because I feel like you’re reading my mind.” I cock an eyebrow at her. “You’re not some sort of witch, are you?”
She scrunches her face. “Buttermilk seems to think so.”
I laugh and tip my forehead to touch hers briefly. “Winnie, I texted you about twenty times a day while I was gone and made my mom cook you dinner the second I got back. I’m pretty sure I’m halfway to obsessed.”
She lets out a quiet laugh, but there’s emotion behind it.
“I think,” I say slowly, “that walking you in here tonight… bringing you into this space… it felt like letting you into the last part of my world.”
She watches me carefully.
“This rink is where I’ve always felt the most like myself,” I admit. “And lately… that’s started to shift. Because I feel most like myself when I’m with you.”
She doesn’t say anything at first. Just squeezes my hand. “I’m not as good with words as you are, but what touches me most is that I feel completely safe expressing my feelings to you. They might be hard to get out, but I don’t fear your dismissal. And that’s something I’ve never had with a man before. I feel safe with you and that right there tells me that this is the most real thing I’ve ever felt.”
♦
As the credits roll, I pull her up from the blanket. After a soft kiss, I advise her, “I’ve got something else to show you.”
She motions to all the stuff left behind. “Do we need to clean up?”
“Nah. My man Vince said he’d handle it.”
“Who’s Vince?” she asks as I lead her out of the suite.
“Someone we’ll have to name our firstborn after since he helped set up this epically romantic date,” I quip, and then inwardly cringe. Did I just proclaim we’re having children together?
Luckily, Winnie snorts as if it was a joke, but I’m not so sure it is. How can I even be thinking of that right now? Part of me wonders if it’s because she’s my first real relationship. Am I so enamored, I’m not even considering that there could be someone better?