“I know I don’t have to, but I’ll tune in,” she says, and then I hear Zoe in the background screaming her name. “Okay, go and get into the zone. Call me after the game.”
“Will do,” I say, and she hangs up. Putting my phone down, I eat my food when my phone beeps, and I look at it. She sent me a text.
Zara: For every goal you get, you will be rewarded with my mouth.
Zara: On your cock.
I groan inwardly because my cock thinks it’s now and starts waking up. And I text her back.
Me: I’m going to have to take care of myself before the game just thinking about it.
She answers me right away.
Zara: Well, then our chat after the game is going to be very interesting. I miss you.
I don’t answer her because my phone rings, and I see it’s Candace. “Hello,” I say to her. “Are you alive?”
“Ha, ha, ha,” she says sarcastically. “Trust me, if I wasn’t, Mom would be on your ass to come and find me.”
“This is very true,” I tell her, knowing that my mom would be on my ass to go get her.
“Did you just get back?” I ask her, finishing my food.
“Yeah,” she says. “I was going to come to the game tonight and bring a friend.”
“Okay,” I tell her. “I’ll catch you after the game,” I tell her and put my phone down.
I warm up a bit before I have to get into my gear and take the ice. When I skate on the ice, I see a couple of the fans waiting by the glass and toss a couple of pucks to them. I look down the ice at the number one team.
“This is going to be a rough night,” Corey says. “They are going on a six-game winning streak.”
“Well, it ends tonight,” I say, taking a puck and moving it back and forth with my stick.
The warm-up finishes, and we skate back into the dressing room. The coach comes in, and he has shots of some plays that he wants us to work on. I sit on bench with my pregame drink in my hand, my fingers strumming the bottle. “Let’s break out of the streak, boys,” he says, clapping his hands, and we get up and get into the line to skate out. We wait in the hallway as Corey gives his speech every game. I bounce on my skates and then tie my helmet and wait for my turn.
I get on the ice and take my place on the blue line, taking off my helmet and waiting for the anthem to be sung. Once it’s done, I skate to the middle of the ice as the fans on their feet start stomping. I skate in a circle with my stick in both hands and get into the zone. I block everything out, and when the referee comes over with the puck, I get into position and wait for him to drop the puck. I win the face-off, passing the puck back to Denis who slowly brings it up to the three of us skating toward their goal. He passes the puck to Jari as I try to skate around the defense to the right. I make it just a touch past their defense and toward the left side when I look at him to pass me the puck. As soon as the puck hits the blade of my stick, I just shoot it on the goalie, not expecting anything but to give everyone a chance of a rebound play. Except it goes in off the goalie’s shoulder, and just like that, seven seconds into the game, it’s one to nothing for us. I skate to the back of the net, and my teammates come out to me. Corey is the first one to me. “Guess someone is fired up,” he jokes with me, and then we skate to the bench. We high-five everyone and then do a shift change.
For the rest of the period, we hang on to the one goal lead, but when we start the second period, either they are out for blood, or we are just dragging our asses because in the matter of twenty-seven seconds, they are up two to one. We get caught up in our zone more times than we want to, and clearing the puck is like pulling fucking teeth. We finally do it, but it’s not enough to score that tying goal.
When we go back to the dressing room at the end of the second period, the shots on net are twenty-one for them and six for us. “We need to get more shots on net,” the coach says. “You guys need to stop getting caught up in our zone.”
The guys around me just look over at him, and when we get on the ice for the third period, the game shifts. We end up in our zone as usual, but this time, we intercept the puck and we haul ass toward the goal. Corey enters the zone with a two on one, and I make my move and shoot up past the second defense man. He makes a shot on goal, and it bounces off the goalie, but I’m right there on the right for the rebound, and I slip it into the empty side of the net.
“One more,” I say to them, and we skate to the bench again doing the line change. “We need to get one more.” I grab the Gatorade water bottle and squirt some into my mouth, and in the blink of an eye, the other line ends up scoring, making us go up by one goal. We finished the game ending their winning streak. I end up being the first star and going out and doing a lap around the arena, throwing the pucks to the crowd.
When I skate off, I get into the room as soon as the journalists make their way in. A couple of reporters ask me questions, but then I rush into the shower. I look at the clock and see it’s almost ten my time, so it’s eleven her time. I wonder if she’s in bed. I grab my phone and text her.
Me: Are you still up?
I put my phone down and get dressed when she answers me right away.
Zara: Barely.
Grabbing the phone, I walk into a quiet room and then call her. She picks up right away, her voice sleepy, and I’m suddenly sad she isn’t going to be home when I get here. “Hey, superstar.”
“Hey, beautiful,” I say softly, and I can see her smile in my mind.
“Are you in bed?” I ask her and think of her in my bed, and the times I woke up with her and took her in my arms.
“I am,” she says, and I hear the sheets ruffled in the background. “I set an alarm just in case I feel asleep.”
“I miss you,” I tell her. “I wish I was going home to you tonight,” I tell her the truth.
She laughs now. “That is only because you are owed two blow jobs.” She laughs, and it settles me.
“Oh, don’t you worry, sweetheart, I’m keeping track for next time,” I tell her, and I hear her yawn. “Why don’t you go to sleep, and I’ll call you tomorrow when I get up?”
“Okay, Evan,” she says softly. “I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”
“Night, beautiful,” I say to her and disconnect. I walk back out into the dressing room and see it’s almost empty.
“Your sister was looking for you,” Corey says as he shrugs on his jacket, and I nod at him. I put the phone in my pocket and put on my own jacket.
“There he is,” my sister says from behind me. “The number star of the game.” I turn around smiling, and then my smile goes away when I see who her friend is.
“Hey,” I say to her and then look over at Sophia, my ex-girlfriend. I knew they were friends, but I didn’t know how close.
“Hi,” Sophia says, and I just nod at her.
“You did good,” my sister says, and I just look at her, hoping she sees the disdain on my face.
“Thanks,” I say and then grab my keys. “Where are you two off to?” I ask her, and she looks at me and then Sophia.
“We were hoping that you would take us out,” Candace says, and I smile at her.
“Sorry,” I tell her. “I’m beat and on my way home.”
I turn and walk out of the room, and my sister and Sophia follow me. “Oh, come on,” Candace says, and I turn around and see the two of them.
“Cand, I have no idea what you’re trying to pull, but it’s not going to happen,” I tell her. Not only am I pissed that she brought Sophia into this, but now I’m also pissed she is putting me in an awkward situation. “Sophia, it was nice seeing you. Cand”—I turn and look at her—“you can call me tomorrow.” Without bothering to wait for her to answer, I just walk away and head home.
Chapter Twenty-One
Zara
“I will get right on that, Mrs. Kitch, and then I’ll send you all my ideas by next week,” I say into the phone while I write down the details in my book.
“Thank you so much, dear. Kelli
e can’t say enough about you,” she tells me, and I smile. If you would have asked me last year if I ever thought that my client list would be more than ten, I would have laughed at you.
Today, I walked into Nordstrom and handed them my resignation letter. I was taking the huge leap and betting on myself. It was with a heavy heart, but I couldn’t keep up anymore. My client list that started with four, which was just my family, was now at seventy. Between the Hollywood stars, to the hockey wives, to the oil tycoon billionaires, to everyone who read my name in the papers—everyone wanted to get in and have something from Zara’s Closet.
“I’ll be able to see you in Dallas some time next week,” I tell her, checking my schedule.
“Perfect. I look forward to seeing you,” she says, and I disconnect the call.
It’s been two weeks since I’ve been in Dallas, and I’m actually anxious to get back there. I miss my man something fierce, and even though we talk four to five times a day, there is nothing like having him close by.
Yesterday, I couldn’t smell him anymore on his shirt, so I called him and was a bit frantic about it. Well, what did he do? He sent me another T-shirt that he wore by FedEx so I can smell him. I mean, he has not been happy in all this, and it’s the only thing we argue about. Me not being there; him not being able to come here. Long-distance romance sucks balls.
But I mean, there is FaceTime, so we have dinner together whenever we can, and even Lilo and Stitch join us. I miss his touch, and I miss his kiss, but this weekend, his team is coming in for the big game, and I can’t freaking wait. He has been on the road most of the week, and they are ending their road trip in New York. Only he doesn’t know that I’m going back with him.
I’m writing in my agenda when the doorbell rings, and I go downstairs and see it’s the FedEx guy. I smile at him and sign my name, carrying the huge brown box inside. What did he send me? I think, walking upstairs to my bedroom and putting it on my bed. I run up to my office, grab the scissors, and then run back downstairs. I run my hands over where he wrote my name.
Slicing open the tape on the top of the box, I place the scissors beside me and open the box. I grab the first thing wrapped in tissue paper, and as I unwrap it, I see it’s a frame of Lilo and Stitch with notes hanging from their necks. Lili has “I miss you,” while Stitch has “please come back.” I laugh and bring it to my chest, blinking away the little stinging behind my eyes. I put it on my bedside table and then take out the next thing wrapped again in tissue. This time, it’s a frame of the both of us. It was taken on his new outdoor couch. He is sitting up, and I am lying on his chest, my hand on his chest over his heart. A little card tucked into the frame.
I have this beside my bed and thought you might want a copy.
I miss you.
E.
I’m tempted to kiss him in the picture; that is how much I miss him. Instead, I rub the glass with my finger, then place the frame next to the other and take out the next one. It’s wrapped in tissue with a pink ribbon. I untie the ribbon and see it’s another jersey.
I was hoping you would do me the honor of wearing this on Saturday. It smells like me!
I can’t wait to kiss you.
E.
I hug it to my chest and laugh. I know I’m going to get heat about it, but nothing is going to stop me from wearing this. The next thing that comes out is heavy, and when I open it, I laugh. It’s a round crystal bowl with a cover, and it is filled with Hersey’s kisses. The little paper on the front of it.
Some kisses for when I’m not around.
I laugh and put it right next to the frame and then finally take out what I’ve been waiting for—his T-shirt. He sent two, and I bring one up to my nose and smell him. My stomach flips, and I smile as my heartbeat speeds up. I take off the shirt I’m wearing and put on his. I bring it back to my nose and smell him. I grab my phone and take a picture of me lying on my bed with his shirt on with the frame in the background, and I send it to him.
Me: How many more days until I’m back in your arms?
I don’t know where he is, or what he’s doing. I know today was a travel day, but that’s all I know. He doesn’t answer; instead, I see the FaceTime ring. I pick it up right away and wait for us to connect.
“Hey,” I say when I see his face fills the screen. “I got your box.”
“Did you?” He smiles, and I see that he is walking somewhere.
“I did,” I tell him, turning to my stomach and looking at him. “Where are you?”
“On my way to the plane,” he says and turns the camera around for me to see the jet waiting. “First stop Philly,” he tells me, “then Buffalo and then New York.”
“When do you arrive in New York?” I ask him, counting down the hours at this point.
“Saturday morning,” he says, and I’m bummed. “We get in at ten, and then we have skate right away, and then I have to be back at the rink at five.” I’m about to ask him when I’m going to finally see him when he looks at me. “Beautiful, I have to call you back.”
“Okay,” I say to him. “Fly safe.” He smiles and winks at me and then disconnects.
I’m about to go back to work when I hear the front door open and close. “I’m here.” I hear Zoe from the front door. “I come with gifts,” she says, and I get up and walk down the stairs. “What are you wearing?” she asks me, and I look down at the Adidas shirt that is obviously too big for me.
“It’s Evan’s,” I say, and she shakes her head. “What? I miss him.”
“So I see,” she says and then she holds up the brown paper bag. “I brought you bagels.”
“Oh, good,” I say, grabbing the bag and feeling the warmth coming from the bag. “Fresh too.”
“Straight out of the oven,” she says as she follows me into the kitchen. “I want mine toasted,” she says, grabbing one and then putting it in the toaster while I do the same to mine. I walk to the fridge and grab some cream cheese.
“How was today?” she asks. She stands in front of me wearing perfectly pressed black pants with a white silk shirt tied at the neck. Her black sandals complete her classy and professional outfit.
“Bittersweet,” I tell her. “But it was time that I let go of one.”
“It was way past time,” she tells me. “You need to take the leap, and now is the perfect time.”
“Everything happens when it’s supposed to happen,” I tell her, and she just nods. “When are you going back to Dallas?” she asks me.
“Sunday,” I answer her. “I booked a flight in the afternoon.”
“Does that mean you’re bringing Evan to the after-game party?” she asks with a twinkle in her eye, and I can just imagine what she’s thinking.
“I haven’t asked him, but if he wants to, I’ll bring him. If not, I’ll skip it,” I tell her, grabbing the bagels that have popped up.
“You never miss the after-game party,” she says. “This is a big deal, isn’t it?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I like him,” I tell her. “Like really, really like him.”
She doesn’t ask me anything else, nor does she push me. She eats her bagel and then goes to raid my closet again, leaving with another outfit. I lock up after she leaves and go to take a bath, and when Evan FaceTimes me, I’m just slipping into bed.
“Hey,” I say once his face comes on the screen, and I see he looks tired.
“Hey, beautiful.” He greets me the same way each time.
“Did you just get in?” I ask him, getting comfy, and he nods. “So,” I say and try to come up with the words and then see him looking at me. “My family is having an after-game party get-together on Saturday.”
“Okay,” he says, and I see him shrug off his jacket. He is in his hotel room, and he gets on the bed.
“I was wondering if you would like to come with me?” I watch his face for any hesitation.
“It’s up to you, beautiful,” he says softly. “I’ll go and do whatever you want.”
“Well,” I tell
him, “I want you to meet my mom and dad.”
“Then we’ll go.” His smile fills the screen. “Are you in bed?”
“I am.” I turn the phone for him to see me lying in bed.
“Are you wearing my shirt?’ he asks, propping up the pillows
“I am, and it smells just like you,” I tell him, smiling. “Four days, right?”
“Four days,” he repeats.
I try to cram as much work as I can in the days to make it go faster, but it doesn’t. Every day is worse than the next, and I swear I don’t even sleep on Friday night. I toss and turn, and when I finally fall asleep, I wake up forty minutes later only to see that it’s not even five a.m. At seven a.m., I give up on sleeping and go downstairs. I’m about to start my coffee when I hear a soft knock on the front door. I look down and see I’m just in Evan’s shirt, so I grab a towel from the laundry basket and wrap it around my top half as I make my way to the door. The knock coming again, this time a bit louder.
“I’m coming,” I say and unlock the door and swing it open, not expecting to see him.
“Morning, beautiful,” he says, holding a bouquet of roses in his hands, but I don’t even care as I just fall into his arms. He barely has time to drop the roses before I launch myself. I wrap my legs around his waist and bury my face in his neck. I am pretty sure I’m choking him, but I don’t care. He’s here in front of me, and he is holding me in his arms, so nothing, and I mean nothing, is going to get me out of them. He walks into the house and closes the door behind him.
“Sweetheart,” he says softly. “I’m going to need your lips.” I lean back in his arms with my legs locked at the ankles. He has one hand under my ass and the other wrapped around my waist holding the flowers. “There she is,” he says to me, his smile so big his eyes are crinkling on the side. “I missed you so much,” he says, and I can’t talk because I have a huge lump in my throat, and I know if I say anything, I’ll probably sob ’cause I’m so happy. I put my forehead on his and my hands on his cheeks, his scruff longer than the last time. I lean in slowly and kiss his lips softly, so soft it’s almost like it wasn’t there. He turns to put the roses on the front end table. “Where do you want to do this?” he asks me.
This Is Crazy Page 15
