Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“I know, I know,” she drawls with a slight eye roll that I’m quite sure she learned from Mazzy. “I’ll call and you’ll come get me.”
“That’s right,” I say, although I know she won’t call.
I kiss Bowie Jane on the forehead and place her back down on the ground. I glance over at Mazzy who’s arranging the roses in a vase already filled with water. Her eyes lock with mine. “I’ll see you after the game in the family lounge. We’ll decide what to do then.”
“Sounds great,” she says, all light and airy, as if she doesn’t have a care in the world about our date tonight.
I, on the other hand, am completely psyched for it, and it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact we’ll most likely have sex tonight.
Okay, not true. I’m pumped for that, but I really just want some alone time with her. This week has shown how limited we’re going to be because when I’m in town and have free time, Mazzy is taking well-deserved time off, not to mention, I want all that time with Bowie Jane. It’s definitely going to be difficult navigating it all, but tonight we’ll talk about it.
Figure it out.
CHAPTER 23
Mazzy
I wait for Foster in the family lounge. The mood is jubilant, given that the Titans trounced the Washington Breakers, 7–1. I’m buzzing still from a sweet goal that Foster scored from an almost just as sweet pass from his new left-winger, Atlas Karolak. I screamed so loud when that red light came on as I jumped out of my seat, my throat feels a little shredded.
Kiera introduces me to some of the other SO’s as we wait, and it feels a little disingenuous as I shake hands and answer questions. I’m introduced as Bowie Jane’s nanny, which is accurate, but it’s not the reason I am in the family lounge tonight. I’m here because Foster and I are going out after for what is technically our second date. I don’t point that out though, and not one person seems to think it odd that I’m here and Bowie Jane is not.
Maybe they assume hockey tickets are just a job perk… or maybe Foster told everyone we’re dating. Maybe no one gives a damn one way or the other, but everyone makes me feel welcome. A few of the wives with kids reiterate offers to help with Bowie Jane on my days off as well as promise to set up playdates. It’s all very sweet, a nice way to spend the time waiting, but it doesn’t exactly quell the nerves swirling in my belly about what will happen when Foster walks into the room.
As it turns out, my nerves go haywire when I finally spot him, talking to who look to be the parents of one of his teammates. As he converses, his eyes casually move around the room and when they land on me, he motions for me to join him. He’s wearing the suit he left the house in—a hip, light blue plaid pattern that’s just a bit ostentatious. Foster admitted it’s custom-made and that he has a few like it that he wears sometimes when he’s feeling the vibe. His hair is damp from his postgame shower and his stubble is thick with a few days’ growth.
I move toward him, clutching tight to my purse over my shoulder. I get no more than halfway across the room when he exits the conversation with the older couple and walks in my direction.
We meet near a cluster of furniture occupied by a group of older men and I don’t know if they’re family members or VIP visitors, but they’re not paying any attention to us.
We don’t touch, but stand staring at each other.
“What do you want to do?” he asks casually. “Are you hungry? Want to grab something to eat?”
I shake my head. “I’m not hungry, but if you are—”
“I’m not. Want to grab a drink with the team? It’s tradition to celebrate over at Mario’s after a win.”
“If you want to—”
Foster gives a slight shake of his head. “I want to do what you want to do. I made plans for the first date. You choose the second.”
I chew on my bottom lip as I consider options and while I don’t know the specifics of what will or should happen, I do know one thing. “I don’t want to go to Mario’s. We’re just… too new and I don’t want to face scrutiny while we’re still figuring things out. How do you feel about going home? Maybe just talk.”
“We can do that.” His words are carefree and I don’t sense any disappointment we’re not going to hang out with friends. I also don’t sense any lecherous excitement that I chose to go to his home… where there’s a bed and the potential for the sex I begged for after our first date. In my mind, that’s a given. We both want it and frankly, I don’t care if we talk first. We talk all the time and I’ve gotten to know so much about him the past five weeks that I’m confident in my choices. There’s no risk in being intimate with him because the feelings are already solid and I’m as confident in this path as I can be.