Save the Date (Chicago on Ice Series Book 3)

by Aven Ellis

  He’s resting against the pillows on his hotel bed, wearing a gray Chicago Buffaloes T-shirt with his hair slightly messy. Oh, how I long to touch his hair right now.

  “Luca,” I say, “how are things in Miami?”

  “Warm and filled with palm trees,” Luca says. “And missing you.”

  Oh, I love this man.

  “I miss you, too,” I admit. “I’m so glad we can talk like this when you’re on the road.”

  “Tonight is a good night,” Luca says. “Miami isn’t playing, so I don’t have a live game to watch. I have some stuff to watch later, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

  Reassurance fills me. He may be juggling me and hockey, but at least he’s trying to make time for both. Maybe I overreacted this morning.

  “I’m all yours,” I say, meaning it in more ways than one.

  Luca smiles at me. “I like that.”

  “Me, too,” I say, returning his smile.

  “So, I have an idea for your future career as a riding instructor,” Luca says. “You told me you need to get certified, right?”

  I sigh. “There’s certification, building up a client base, and during that time, earning enough to make a living. I can’t figure out a way for it to be financially possible.”

  “I have.”

  I furrow my brow. “How?”

  Luca’s eyes become very serious. “What if I financially support you?”

  “What?” I ask, shocked. “What do you mean by that, Luca?”

  “I have money,” Luca says. “Wh—”

  “Oh, no. No, no, no,” I say, cutting him off. “You are not going to support me. I won’t allow you to do that.”

  “Collins, please let me finish,” Luca says, his voice firm. “Listen to what I have to say.”

  I remain silent, but the answer will still be no when he finishes.

  “You’re going to need time to apprentice with a coach and study for your certifications,” he says. “What if you do that while you work with your Aunt Suzanne? Let’s say you get one day off a week to devote to riding and I reimburse you the money you’d lose from your paycheck.”

  I gasp. “What? You want to pay me?”

  “I want to help you,” Luca corrects.

  “Luca, no. That’s too much. I can’t take money from you!”

  “But I have it. I won’t miss it.”

  “No, absolutely not. I’m not with you for the money.”

  “I know that,” Luca says adamantly. “I wouldn’t offer this if I didn’t want to. You know that.”

  “I do know that, Luca, and you’re beyond kind and generous to offer, but I won’t accept it.”

  Luca sighs heavily, and I know I’m frustrating him.

  “Why not?” he challenges. “I can afford this, Collins. Easily. I want to help you realize your dream; why won’t you let me?”

  “I’m touched you want to do this for me. I am. But I won’t take your money.”

  “It’s a gift.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” Luca asks, his deep voice exasperated. “I have the money. It won’t impact me at all.”

  “No. You are very responsible with your money. You haven’t even splurged on a flashy car or penthouse apartment in some chic high-rise. I won’t allow you to support me.”

  “I don’t consider this support. I consider this an investment.”

  “In what?” I ask, confused.

  “In my fu—” Luca stops speaking.

  My heart races when I realize he was about to say “future” but cut himself off.

  He sees me in his future, as I see him in mine.

  Luca clears his throat. “You can pay me back, then.”

  “Do you realize how long it would take me to pay you back?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “No.”

  “Argh! Why are you being so stubborn?” he asks.

  I smile at him. “You’re adorable when you’re annoyed with me.”

  Luca sighs. “You aren’t going to budge on this, are you?”

  “No. I think you’re Prince Charming for trying to solve this for me, but I need to do this myself. It’s important to me that I do. You can help me come up with ideas on how to do it, but I don’t want you to solve it for me, if that makes sense.”

  Luca is quiet for a moment, and I wonder if I’ve pissed him off by slamming the door on his offer.

  After a long, heavy silence, he clears his throat.

  “You know what’s funny? In any other woman, I’d admire this show of independence. But because it’s you, it’s frustrating. I want you to live your dream like I am. That’s all I want for you.”

  Love for him fills my heart.

  “You’re an amazing man,” I say softly. “And I’m so lucky to be with you.”

  “I’m the lucky one, Cinderella,” Luca says, his face now soft. “I’m so lucky I found you.”

  He lets the topic drop, and I feel more in love with him than I was before.

  Luca is such a good man. He’s strong, caring, passionate, smart, and devoted. I can go on and on, but he truly is perfect in my eyes.

  Nothing will ever change how I feel about him.

  Ever.

  Chapter 27

  Sometimes simplicity is everything . . .

  I come to a stop behind Aubrey’s car and park on the curb outside Livy’s house. This is the perfect way to end a Monday: a comfort meal with friends, hugs from Nana, and a hockey game where our men play against Miami.

  For a Monday, my day has been remarkably awesome.

  I had a fantastic conversation with Kristine Sharp about her party this morning, and I can tell this will be the most fun I’ll ever have planning an event. We have the same passion for horses, and I have a million clever ideas of how to incorporate the theme into the party décor. I’m going to meet with her to discuss more on Wednesday, and I can’t wait. This project is close to my heart, and all I want to do is work on it.

  My enthusiasm was nearly negated with the fifteen phone messages from Momzilla Pamela, who requested I schedule an appointment at another bridal gown boutique because the one Trina selected was only suitable for someone with zero taste. That triggered a slew of emails from Trina saying her mother was out of control and demanding I get her off her back before she has a nervous breakdown.

  Of course, Momzilla Pamela also said it was urgent that we finalize the cider bar and design a custom logo to emboss on the invitations. She also demanded a viewing of ice carvings and reiterated that she is not paying for the tacky donut wall.

  Ugh. Normally, this would have me reaching for a muffin to carb-load the stress away.

  But not this morning.

  Because I’m doing a horse party!

  I grab a couple bottles of wine from the passenger seat and head up the sidewalk.

  I got a brief text from Luca, saying he was getting in the zone for tonight and wouldn’t be available until after the game to talk, but he hoped I was having a good day and he missed me.

  I wish I could have had even ten minutes to do a video chat, or phone call, but I know game preparation is everything to him. Tomorrow is an off day in Tampa, so when we talk tonight I’ll make sure we schedule an online date to reconnect while he’s on the road.

  I can hear laughter floating toward the door as I ring the bell.

  “Okay, everyone is here, the party can begin,” Livy says after opening the door and drawing me in for a hug.

  I set my bag and tote on the hall table and take off my coat. I hang it on the peg hook on the wall, as I’ve done for all my teenage years whenever I’d come over to the Adams’ house. I pick up my bag and follow Livy back to the kitchen, which is filled with an amaz
ing scent of pot roast coming from the slow cooker.

  Everyone is around the kitchen table, and greetings are exchanged as I come in.

  “Collins, it’s so good to see you,” Livy’s mom, Jennifer, says as she moves to embrace me.

  “Hi, Mrs. Adams,” I say, hugging her back.

  I give Nana a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  “Nana,” I say, “I’m so glad to see you.” I take two bottles of wine out of my bag. “This is for you. A bold cabernet sauvignon that pairs perfectly with the beef.”

  “You’re an angel,” Nana says, her blue eyes twinkling at me. “You’ve spared us from that bargain three-for-one garbage my daughter insists is good. Blech. That’s like saying a man without a tight butt is hot. Now who is going to get a corkscrew and open this bottle?”

  “I’ll get it,” Livy says, taking the bottle and going to the kitchen drawer to retrieve a corkscrew.

  “I’ll get the glasses,” Aubrey says, getting up.

  I pull out a chair next to Taylor and take a seat. Livy’s mother is an infamous bargain shopper and coupon clipper, and to her nothing is better than a three-for-one deal. Her habit often results in questionable food and drink options landing on the family table.

  “Mom, seriously?” Mrs. Adams says as she stirs something on the stove. “We haven’t even had dinner yet and you’re bringing up men’s butts?”

  “I fail to see the problem in talking about men’s butts. Speaking of which,” Nana says, turning her gaze to me, “that goalie of yours sure has one.”

  “If you ask her if you can bounce a quarter off it, I’m leaving,” Mrs. Adams declares.

  Taylor bursts out laughing, and I feel my face grow warm.

  “Oh, good question, Jennifer.” Nana folds her arms on the table and leans toward me. “Can you?”

  “Mom!” Mrs. Adams cries.

  “Buzzkill!” Nana retorts.

  Now my friends are dying, and I can’t help but join them. Finally, I stop laughing so I can answer her question.

  “Um, I haven’t tried yet,” I say, and we crack up all over again.

  The side door opens, and Livy’s father, Dave, walks in. He takes one look at Livy pouring wine and all of us around the table and furrows his brow.

  “I want to go straight to my study, don’t I?” he asks good-naturedly.

  “Run,” Livy’s mother says.

  “Is the whiskey out?” Mr. Adams asks.

  “Please,” Nana says. “Whiskey doesn’t go with pot roast. That’s the after-dinner drink.”

  I love this woman so much.

  “Um, yeah,” Mr. Adams says. “I think I’ll have dinner in the study tonight.”

  “Well, it’s almost ready. I’ll bring you a plate, hon. I also have cauliflower puree for anyone who wants that instead of mashed potatoes.”

  Aubrey and I exchange a glance. There’s no way either of us are eating that when Livy’s mom makes mashed potatoes with extra cream and butter.

  Livy’s mom gets the meat ready, and before long, we’re all filling plates with herb-scented roast, mashed potatoes, carrots, and gravy. It’s all I can do not to shovel it in as soon as I sit back down. I haven’t had a comfort meal like this in a long time.

  While we’re eating, we share bits and pieces of what has been going on in our lives. There’s talk of careers and fiancés and potential wedding dates for Aubrey and Livy. They both want summer weddings but need to schedule them so they aren’t too close together.

  “We want you to be able to work for both of us, Collins,” Aubrey teases.

  I would happily plan their weddings, but if I am to live my truth, they are the only weddings I want to plan.

  “Collins,” Nana says, turning her attention to me, “how are things with Luca?”

  “He’s amazing, Nana,” I say. “I understand now why everything happened last spring with Gabe. He wasn’t my truth.”

  Nana reaches over and puts her delicate hand over mine. “I can see it in your eyes. He makes you happy. Luca is your truth, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” I say, love for him filling my heart. “He is.”

  “Luca needs Collins just as much,” Aubrey adds. “She is giving him a life outside of hockey, which, according to Beckett, he didn’t have before.”

  I take a sip of my wine, thinking of Luca’s text message earlier.

  “It’s not easy for him,” I admit. “I’d like to spend more time with him than I do, but he’s intense when it comes to preparing for games.”

  “Landon has tried to tell him he needs balance,” Livy adds. “He thinks you will give him that. I mean, it’s a long season filled with pressure. Luca will need to learn to switch off more than he does.”

  I feel Nana’s ever-perceptive eyes on me, and I shift my gaze down to my glass.

  “He’s not there yet, is he, love?” Nana asks.

  I absently swirl my wine. “Not yet, but he will be,” I say, lifting my head and smiling like I feel I should.

  “It’s all about truth,” Nana says, squeezing my hand. “Make sure he knows how you feel. If you hide, no good will come of it.”

  I see sincerity in Nana’s eyes. She is the exact opposite of my mother, who hides from unpleasantness at all costs. My mom taught me to hide. She thinks bad things come from dealing with ugly feelings.

  While I’m getting better about removing my mask since being with Luca, I know at some point I might have to address the way I feel about all his hockey preparation and trust that the truth will be good for not only me, but him, too.

  “Speaking of truths,” Nana says, removing her hand from mine and turning her attention to Taylor, “you’ve been awfully quiet, young lady.”

  Taylor sets down her fork. “The truth? I’m absolutely miserable, and I see no way out.”

  Her violet-blue eyes fill with tears, and she bites down on her lower lip, trying not to fall apart at the table.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Livy’s mom says, getting up and putting her arms around her. “You go ahead and cry. We’ll figure this out.”

  The comforting gesture sends her over the edge, and Taylor bursts into tears. There’s not a dry eye at the table when she does. I retrieve a box of tissues from the den and set them on the kitchen table in front of Taylor.

  Livy’s mom holds her, strokes her hair, and lets her cry. Not once does she tell her to turn that frown upside down, like my mother would. I recognize what a disservice my mom did teaching me to hide behind pretend happiness.

  Sometimes you need to cry.

  And that’s okay.

  Taylor’s tears subside, and she draws a breath of air before she beings to speak.

  “I’m miserable. I miss Chicago. My job is a nightmare. I’m lonely. It’s been this way for months, but I can’t quit. I don’t quit things. I’ve never quit anything in my life. This was the plan. I got everything I wanted. So, why do I feel this way? Why?”

  “Sometimes what you plan for and what reality is are two completely different things,” Nana says softly. “I don’t see it as quitting a job as much as accepting this isn’t what you thought it would be.”

  “But my parents think I’m so successful,” Taylor says, her voice wobbly.

  “And you are,” Livy adds, furrowing her brow. “Why would you say that?”

  “I’m the first one to move to a new city and make it alone. They’re so proud of me. How do I explain quitting a job without another one in hand? How do I go back home?”

  “You don’t have to,” I say. “You can stay with me until you find a job here, Taylor. You can have the couch. I’d love to have you as a roommate.”

  “But what about Luca?” Taylor asks.

  “He lives alone,” I say. “You wouldn’t be imposing in any way on
us.”

  “That’s so sweet of you to offer, but—”

  “No buts. The offer is yours whenever you want to take it,” I reassure her.

  “Taylor, you need to decide what is going to make you happy: following a plan or living a life that brings you joy,” Nana says gently. “You are going to have to be brave in facing your reality and not give a shit what anybody else thinks about your change in plans.”

  Taylor sniffles. “Okay.”

  “You’re going to be fine, sweetheart,” Mrs. Adams reassures her. “You will survive.”

  “And thrive,” Nana adds. “Because you learn from all experiences, both good and bad. This will make you a stronger woman. Now, how much time do we have before the hockey hotties are on?”

  Livy laughs. “Game starts in ten minutes.”

  “Then we have time for a shot,” Nana says, getting up from the table.

  “But nobody has been wronged by a man,” I say, citing Nana’s usual reason for whiskey shots.

  “Pfft. Taylor has been wronged by her life plans. We’ll drink to that,” Nana says.

  We do a quick clean up of dishes and then head to the den, where Nana retrieves a bottle of whiskey.

  “Tell my dear Landon ‘thank you’ for this one,” Nana says to Livy. “He’s such a good boy.”

  Livy beams in response.

  “He is,” she says.

  Shot glasses are brought out, and Livy pours whiskey for all of us, but only a tiny bit since we’re driving.

  Nana raises her glass. “To living your truth.”

  “To truth,” we all say, clinking glasses before downing the whiskey.

  Taylor coughs. “Ugh, I’m sorry, Nana, but that’s so much better in a whiskey sour.”

  “Ohhh, good idea!” Nana says.

  “Mom, no cocktails tonight,” Mrs. Adams says in a warning tone. “And don’t bother saying it, I know I’m a buzzkill.”

  We all laugh and settle in on the sofa and recliner chairs in the living room. Livy flips to the Buffaloes’ game, which is still in pregame mode with analysts talking.