Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
My best friend might ask how I’m spending my night off from Clover-wrangling duty, and I’d be obligated to tell him that I’m having dinner with his little sister. And he’d likely assume it was just a friendly date, and that assumption would feel like another lie on my already heavy conscience.
We have to tell him the truth.
Soon.
The longer we wait, the worse this fallout is going to be. And there’s more than my friendship with Nix on the line here. We have a job to do, a team to take all the way this season.
A season that could be my last…
I’m thinking more and more about that possibility lately. What would it look like to take a few years off between the end of my NHL career and whatever comes next? Time to reflect and make thoughtful decisions about what I want to do with the rest of my life?
A hiatus could be good for me.
Not to mention free up time to be the kind of father I want to be.
A father…
The idea still seems bizarre, like I’m playing some strange game of pretend. But it’s not pretend. Pretty soon, Bean will be here, and everything will change. Even a few months ago, that reality was terrifying.
Now, well…it’s still terrifying, but also exciting and a challenge I feel increasingly ready to face.
Yes, I grew up without a single respectable male role model, but it’s not like I don’t have men around me now that I can ask for parenting advice if I need it.
Dean is an incredible father, and Grammercy is what dad goals are made of. He’s so in love with his wife and their growing family, it shows in everything he does. He’s always the first one out of the locker room after practice, sprinting out the door to get back to Elly, Mimi, and their new baby girl, Sophia. And the way he looks at Elly and his girls when he waves to them in the stands at the games…
It’s enough to put a lump in my throat.
It’s brave to love like that, so open and fearless.
Some of the sports blogs have started fucking with him about it, making him the butt of their jokes about players getting “pussy whipped” and losing their edge. But despite barely sleeping through the night since Sophia was born, Grammercy’s game is only getting better. And no amount of teasing from the commenters or lamentation from fans, who clearly wish he hadn’t been taken off the market so young, seems to touch him. He’s too in love to give a shit.
So am I.
I just can’t show it.
Not yet. Maybe not ever…
But I’d be lying if I said that Beatrice’s invitation to dinner doesn’t have me hoping. Yes, she wants to talk about work, but that’s not a bad thing. Her work, her art, is one of the most important things in her life. If she’s even thinking about trusting me with those parts of her again, I don’t see how that’s anything but a good sign.
“I’m happy for you, man,” Dean says, pulling me from my thoughts as I work up the buttons on my shirt.
I turn to find him with his gear bag slung over his shoulder on his way out the door. “Excuse me?”
“I’m happy for you,” he says, nodding toward my face. “Whoever has you smiling like that… You deserve it.”
My shoulders stiffen. “It’s not like that.”
Dean flashes a knowing grin. “Sorry. My mistake. So, you aren’t on your way to meet someone special?”
“She’s a friend,” I hedge.
“Oh. Okay. Well, like we said, friends are good.” His smile fades as he adds in a softer voice, “But if you want more, don’t be afraid to shoot your shot. We aren’t getting any younger, and time goes by fast.”
I nod. “I’ll keep that in mind. Good hustle out there today, old man.”
He grins again. “You, too, old man. See you tomorrow.”
I lift a hand his way, then return to getting dressed, a little shaken.
Maybe I’m not hiding my feelings as well as I thought…
And if Dean can see it, surely the rest of the team will start to notice, too, sooner or later.
Including Nix, who won’t let me get away with brushing him off so easily.
The certainty that we’re running out of time to control the way Beatrice’s brother finds out about all this lingers as I drive across town to the Marigny neighborhood.
I park near Frenchmen Street and walk the rest of the way to the restaurant, enjoying the cool night air. It’s fully autumn in New Orleans now, and the live music clubs and trendy shops in the area are embracing it. Pumpkins, hay bales, and arrangements of fall leaves grace every stoop and doorway. At the corner, the florist’s kiosk is surrounded by a veritable moat of orange mums.