by Lily Kate
Ten-oh-four. My heart ices over. Her flight left at ten.
I take the stairs two at a time, ignoring my mom’s calls to come have breakfast. While I was downstairs, a message came in on my phone. It’s from her.
Dear Ryan,
I love you.
Goodbye.
Love,
Your delivery girl
I let out a stream of curse words that have my mom checking on me from downstairs.
“I’m fine,” I yell back to her, even though I’m not. I’m fucking pissed—not at Andi, but at Jocelyn, for starting this whole thing, for running Andi off.
Andi’s selfless, and there’s no doubt in my mind that Jocelyn said something to force her away from me, somehow guilt-tripped her into thinking she’d be the reason for my lack of success, or whatever—and Andi would believe her because she’s a saint with a heart as big as the Pacific Ocean.
Well, I’m not letting Jocelyn ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
I shove whatever I can think of into my backpack. I don’t even know if I packed real clothes—I could’ve packed fifty pairs of boxers and no shirts for how much I’m paying attention.
All I know is that I need to get out of here. I double-check that I have my wallet, credit card, and license; they’re the only things I really need.
Well that, and Andi. If one thing is clear this morning, it’s that I need her like I need my arm. Maybe, maybe I could survive without her, but it would be pretty painful and really fucking annoying. I certainly wouldn’t be very happy about losing her if there were any other options.
“Where are you going?” my mother asks when I return downstairs. She takes one look at my backpack and, without moving from her chair, twitches her slipper-clad toes. “Where’s Andi?”
“Los Angeles.”
“I thought your flight wasn’t until next weekend?”
“It wasn’t.”
She nods. “I see. Do you need a ride to the airport?”
I manage a smile at my mother. Sometimes, mothers are an annoying pain in the ass—it’s just a fact of life—but other times, they are the very best thing. This morning, she’s the very best thing.
“I wouldn’t say no to one.” My frustration fades slightly. “I was going to drive, but—”
She leaps to attention. “Let me take you. Your father says I drive like a maniac.”
“Well, you do.”
She smiles. “That’s good, because I have a feeling your business can’t wait.”
I have the best damn mother on the planet. I give her a hug. When we pull apart, she’s smiling, pulling me toward the car.
“She loves you, Ryan,” she says as we load into her minivan. My mother could easily afford a new car, but I think she likes the old one for nostalgia. “You’re doing the right thing.”
I swallow, look out the window, and then focus on arranging a new flight on the drive to the airport. I’ve already hugged my mother this morning, and that’s enough emotion for one day. I’m conserving the rest of it to unleash on Jocelyn.
When we arrive at the airport, I have one foot out the door and am shouting my thanks when my mom grabs my wrist.
I raise an eyebrow as I turn to look at her.
“Go get her,” she says. “And bring her back. I like her.”
“Me too,” I say, and then give my mother a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for…everything.”
Then, I’m gone. I make it onto the plane with one minute to spare, and by the time I’ve landed in Los Angeles nearly four hours later, I’m a bundle of nerves.
One minute I’m pissed to all hell, itching to get face to face with Jocelyn. The next minute, I’m feeling a little insecure, wondering if I’ve read Andi all wrong. Maybe she really is over me, and I’m chasing her down for no reason at all. Maybe she’s just too nice to tell me she doesn’t want me.
I hate this. I don’t like feeling vulnerable. I have a tattoo on my arm, a scar on my face, and I play hockey for a living—I should be too tough for this shit.
Since I have a carry-on bag full of mostly boxers, I don’t wait at baggage claim. I call an Uber, but it’s too frigging difficult to find, so I hop into the first taxi I see. It’s a minivan.
“This is extra,” the guy says. “Big car.”
“Big tip”—I hold up my cash—“if you can get me to this address quickly.”
It’s Jocelyn’s office. I send her a text to meet me there immediately.
Jocelyn beeps back in a second that she’s already there. I should have known she’d be working on a Sunday morning; she doesn’t have a date at church, that’s for sure.
The taxi driver does a decent job of getting me there quickly, running only two red lights. I tip him well and climb out. The entire drive, I can only think that Andi’s here, too, in this city somewhere, and I need to find her. Unfortunately, she’s not returning any of my texts. I can’t tell if she’s left her phone off or if she’s sad, disappointed, angry, and the not knowing is killing me.
Before I head into Jocelyn’s office, I manage to score her friend Lisa’s number from some comedy website. I call her, and fortunately, she answers. “Hey,” I say quickly. “This is Ryan.”
“Oh.”
I can’t read anything from Lisa’s tone, and that ticks me off even more. “Do you know where Andi is?”
“Crying in the bathroom?”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Of course I am,” she says, but the soft edge to her words has me wondering if there’s not some truth to it. “She’s tough. She’ll survive whatever the hell you put her through.”
“Look, I’m sorry. It was a misunderstanding. I’m here, and I need to see her.”
“You’re in Los Angeles?”
“Yeah, I got the first flight out here that I could.”
“No, I’m sorry. I don’t need to ask her to know she doesn’t want to see you.”
“I know I screwed up. None of this was supposed to happen, and I’m here to make it right.”
“Look, I’m Andi’s best friend, and I have to deal with the fallout from these things. I’m not letting you make that fallout worse.”
“I’m going to tell you this one time,” I say, preparing to lay everything on the line. “I am in love with Andi. There was a misunderstanding this weekend, and I’m here to set things right. I really don’t think you should be making the decision for her of whether or not she wants to see me.”
There’s a long pause.
“Just tell me where she is. Home? Working somewhere? I promise if she tells me to take a hike when I find her, I’ll leave. I’ll never bother you again.”
“Promise?”
“Swear on it. I want Andi back, but if she doesn’t want me…” I trail off. The threat of her not wanting me is enough.
“She has a show tonight. It’s an early one, five p.m. Don’t bother her before then, but you can find her at Rick’s bar after.”
“Thank you,” I say, the relief evident in my voice. “I owe you one.”
“Let me give you one recommendation: sort out whatever this misunderstanding is before you see her, because if she comes away worse for wear after you see her, I’m going to cut off your balls and feed them to the birds.”
I swallow, the image a vile one. “Understood.”
“Great!” she chirps. “Have a super day.”
Lisa hangs up, leaving me staring at the phone and fearing for my life a little—and the life of my family jewels. I figure the best course of action is to do what she says—sort out this misunderstanding, once and for all.
CHAPTER 47
Ryan
Jocelyn’s waiting behind her desk. Her eyes are the same icy blue I’ve grown used to, and they send shivers across my skin the second I walk through her door. I can’t understand what drives her to be so cold, so hostile all the time, but then again, that’s not my problem.
My problem is Andi, and getting her back.
“Beautiful weddi
ng, wasn’t it?” she says as if nothing happened the previous evening. Straightening a stack of papers, she slides them across the desk. “You can get started signing these. I wasn’t ready for you today, but I can be prepared in a few minutes.”
I stomp across the room and rest a hand on the contracts. “Don’t bother.”
She freezes. Her hands cup the sides of the stack of paper. My fingers press down on top, and eventually, I win the battle, pushing the papers back toward her.
“Excuse me?”
“I have no interest in these.”
“I’ve raised your signing bonus.”
“Didn’t you hear what I said?” I repeat. “No interest in them.”
“We’ve come to an agreement satisfactory to both parties. A lot of time, money, legal support, etc. have gone into making this a possibility.”
“We had an agreement that worked,” I say. “But now there’s a third party, Andi. She’s the loser in all of this, and I refuse to let that happen.”
Jocelyn blinks, as if she’s not all that surprised by my demands. “I worried this would happen, but I think I can make you see some sense. Andi is not a loser in this scenario. By cutting her free, she’s able to pursue her own career.”
“Don’t twist my words around.”
“Andi is talented in comedy. I know—I’ve watched her videos.” She smiles, that smug smirk that proves she’s thought of everything. “If you don’t sign this contract, you’ll be back with the Stars. Yes, it’s a great team, and yes, I know you fit in well there, but what about Andi? She’ll have to give up her comedy career to be with you. Is that want you want?”
“There’s a market for comedy in Minnesota.”
She sighs. “You’re acting like a child.”
I’m silent. I don’t want Andi to give up her dreams for me, she doesn’t want me to give up my dreams for her, and that’s the way it should be. Unfortunately, our individual successes make it difficult to make a success of us, together, as a couple.
“I suppose you could try long distance.” Jocelyn shrugs. “I’m sure it works for some couples.”
Still silent, I’m fuming. I don’t want long distance with Andi. I want her in my bed, wrapped in my arms every damn night.
That’s when I have a moment of clarity.
I shake my head and take a step back. Suddenly, I realize she’s doing it to me, the exact same thing she did to Andi: guilt-tripping me into thinking everything I’m feeling, everything I want in life, is wrong.
“This is how you did it,” I say finally. It’s as if the sun has come out after the storm, and I can see the road I need to take. My destination is home, and home is with Andi. “You convinced her that being with me was selfish on her part.”
“I didn’t have to convince anyone,” she says. “I’m just speaking my mind and pointing out the obvious. I’m looking out for your best interests, Ryan.”
“No, you’re not,” I say. “You’re looking at the bottom line. You don’t know what’s best for me.”
“I know you. I’ve watched—”
“Yeah, yeah, you’ve watched every video of me playing hockey, of Andi doing her standup, but that doesn’t mean you know me. I’m sorry, Jocelyn, for whatever went into organizing these contracts, but I’m done. I’m walking away. It’s final. You can look for someone else to play your games.”
“These aren’t games.”
“Fine,” I say. “Call it what you want, but just know I’m done.”
“Who’ll be your agent?”
“I’ll stick with Lawrence, or I’ll find someone else. It’s not your problem.”
“Ryan!” She stands, and the stack of papers goes flying as her desk shakes from the sudden movement. “Don’t throw your life away.”
I pause in the doorway on my way out. “I’m not,” I say, my voice soft, even. I’m no longer angry at her, I just feel sad. It’s a pity she’ll never know why I’m doing what I’m doing.
I understand where she’s coming from, trust me—my priorities were different a few short weeks ago—but then I met Andi, and now things have changed.
“Goodbye, Jocelyn.”
“Fine.”
Her word stops me in my tracks. “Fine, what?” I turn to face her. “What are you saying?”
“I’ll sign you anyway.” Her nose turns up, her arms shaking as she rests her fingers against the desk. “If you’re this serious about her, then I will make an exception for you.”
“Exception?”
“Single players sell better. Better advertisement opportunities. The fangirls, the bunnies, the media go crazy for a hot young hockey player with a bright future, but I can make this work. Devoted young hockey player with a sweet, girl-next-door-type girlfriend—we can make this work.”
“This is my life, not a story for the media.”
“We can make it one. You could earn big on this.”
“You know what?” I smile, this time feeling free, finally free from whatever bullshit Hollywood, Jocelyn, and the old Ryan Pierce got roped into. “I love the game. I just want to play hockey, that’s all, but there will come a time when hockey’s not an option for me anymore, when I’m too old to be of any use on the ice, and when that happens, the world won’t care about me. Neither will the media, neither will the NHL, and neither will you.”
Her lips are a thin icicle, pressed tight across her face.
“Do you know who will be there if I’m lucky?” My heart pounds harder as I hope what I’m saying is true. “Andi.”
“But—”
“I’m sorry, Jocelyn. This isn’t going to work for me.”
I leave for good this time, my head pounding as I walk away from the best opportunity my career has ever seen. When the Hollywood sunshine hits my face, however, I’m calm. Finally, I know what I need to do. I may not be a saint—far frigging from it—but this time, I’m doing the right thing.
I call another Uber, climb in, and give him directions to Peretti’s Pizza.
“Good pies,” the driver says. “I love what they do to a sausage.”
“Don’t I know it,” I say, smiling at the image. “Let’s make this quick. Big tip if you can get me there in thirty minutes.”
“Got a pizza all hot and ready, huh?”
“Something like that.”
“Good man,” the driver says. “We’ll get you there no problem. She’ll be waiting for you, man. I can feel it.”
I’m not sure if he’s talking about a pizza or a girl, but I need the latter to be true.
Anything else is just not an option.
CHAPTER 48
Andi
I refuse to admit that I’ve been crying for the last two hours.
After my dad brought me home this morning, Angela agreed to take over my shift, and Lisa swooped by to distract me. We spent the afternoon sipping mimosas and plotting out new material for our pilot audition.
The new material is crap, but it served its purpose—a distraction from him. I can’t hate him, can’t even bring myself to talk bad about Ryan Pierce. I care for him, even after just a short time together. There is nothing wrong with him except timing.
Lisa argued that Ryan should’ve stood up to the Blonde Bitch earlier, and I understand her logic, truly, I do, but I also understand where he is coming from. He made a deal with her before I ever entered the equation, and it is hard to fault Ryan for being a man of his word.
I also understand his desire to follow his dreams. I have dreams of my own, and I don’t intend to roll over on everything I’ve worked for my entire life. My ovaries might want to drop everything to move to Minnesota and have Ryan’s babies, but my brain fights against that urge.
I have a life here, dreams, passions. If I am going to be true to myself and happy—honestly happy—I need to see them through. Otherwise, what sort of mother, wife, daughter, or friend would I be?
“There.” Lisa finishes applying eyeliner to my eyes. Minutes ago, she had frozen spoons pressed against my ey
elids to dull the post-tears swelling. “You look beautiful.”
I glance in the mirror, and it is movie magic at its finest. Lisa, bless her heart, has transformed me into a fox—smoky eyes, seductive red lips, and a low-cut, lacy black tank top over a new pair of dark jeans. She’s dressed similarly in black, though her lips are pink and her eyes are dotted with glitter.
“Can you believe it’s happening?” She holds my arms and squeals. Finally, it’s not forced excitement for the sake of cheering me up. Her eyes sparkle with the same sheen of the glitter on her lashes, and she’s squealing. “You and me, together—shit, Andi, we’ve been dreaming of this day for years!”
My heart speeds up a bit, and it’s the first sign I’ve had all day that my decision to return to Los Angeles was the right one. I smile at her. “I wouldn’t be here without you,” I tell her. “You are… You mean everything to me.”
She blinks, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s a hint of mistiness in her eyes. “We’re a team. You and me, Andi. We’re doing this together—and guess who’s going to be in the audience?”
I moan. “I don’t want to know.”
“Better that way.” Lisa winks, but it doesn’t help the butterflies flapping about in my stomach.
She met with Nick Bennett shortly after I did, and he told us to start practicing our material for the audition in front of a live audience. This is our first show ever performing standup together, as a duo, and it’s happening because Nick Bennett worked his magic in bringing the show to life.
There’s a crowd out there; I can feel it. Rick was whistling when he came backstage a few minutes ago to announce the ten-minute countdown to show time, and he never whistles. He hates people.
But tonight, people must be making him money, because Rick made his son show up to sling drinks. For the first time ever, Phil (from the mailbox) doesn’t have a front row seat. He lives here, and even he didn’t arrive in time.
