Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“I’m here for it,” I reply with a grin. “Now let’s get some lunch. I’m starving.”
CHAPTER 24
Jenna
“Tell me our guys can’t do romance,” Sophie sighs as she settles into the leather seat across from me. She sips her champagne and crosses one leg over the other.
She looks stunning in an elegant black cocktail dress fitted through the bodice—the wide swing skirt gives it a ’50s vibe. It’s off the shoulder, and her spiked black patent pumps are ridiculously high.
Yes, our men know how to do romance. Sophie and I were advised via a text from Gage this afternoon that a limousine would pick us up for Aneta and Darius’s party. Champagne and strawberries awaited us inside the glamorous vehicle. We ignored the strawberries—who wants to risk dripping juice on party dresses or seeds sticking in teeth—but we risked leaving lipstick on the champagne flute rims, knowing we could apply more when needed.
“I’ve never been in a limo before,” I say as I scan the interior. It’s not flashy like some I’ve seen on TV with neon lighting but rather more refined elegance. The man driving is wearing a suit and cap.
“I rode in one when I was working in medical sales. A bunch of doctors took us out one evening in a limo and got so drunk, one of them vomited on the floor.”
“Charming.” I wrinkle my nose. My hand glides along the supple leather seat, wondering how it’s possible that Gage makes someone like me feel utterly princess-like. The bouquet of white roses sitting next to me was another lovely surprise.
Sophie got one, too, but I don’t know what her card said. Mine was simple: I can’t wait to see you tonight.
The feeling is mutual, and although a billion butterflies wreak havoc in my tummy and my nerves are sizzling, I can’t help but feel like tonight will start our relationship for real. I mean, we’ve already had sex, he’s seen my scars, and we’ve admitted our feelings for each other.
But tonight, I’m committing myself to be with him, in his world, no matter how uncomfortable that might make me. Like Emory said, there’s no reward without risk.
“Are you going to the first game of the playoffs?” Sophie asks, breaking me out of my thoughts.
While there are still two games left in the regular season, we’ve clinched a playoff spot. The first two playoff games will be on the road as we won’t have home ice advantage, based on our standings.
“I’m not sure,” I reply. “I want to, but that all depends if they’ll be filming and if Brienne wants me to go. But I want to.”
“I’m going,” Sophie says with a grin. “So if you want to travel together, that would be fun.”
I know Sophie still has some fears being out and about on her own, but she’s pushing past them. In fact, I couldn’t be sitting across from a better role model to learn from as I retake control of my life.
Leaning forward, I offer my glass in a toast. She taps hers against mine. “Here’s to us badass women being all adventurous and stuff.”
Sophie laughs. “Hear! Hear!”
I take a sip of the champagne, the bubbles tickling my throat as they slide down, sparking a blitz of unfettered happiness.
This is my life now. In a limo on the way to a party to meet my professional hockey player boyfriend who adores me—scars and all—wondering whether I’ll be able to join him at a playoff game to cheer him on. It’s such a far cry from my misery of just a few years ago.
I allow myself to consider Paul and Chelsea. It still hurts deeply that I lost her and that Paul never let me see her after I was out of rehab. I wonder if she remembers me at all. But where Paul’s concerned, I don’t feel much of anything. No sadness for sure. No bitterness for his weakness. Certainly no regrets because while it ended in pain, I’ll hold tight to the good memories I made with Chelsea.
That all seems like a lifetime ago. So distant, like dandelion fuzz blowing away on a hard wind. I don’t mind watching it fade.
The limo slows, and we’re pulling up a driveway lined with cars. The house—or rather, mansion—is ablaze with light, from the manicured landscaping to every single window. I see people inside mingling, and I wait for apprehension to take hold.
I feel nothing but excitement at seeing Gage.
The driver gets out, and we wait for him to open our door. Sophie and I put our champagne glasses on a small table ledge and leave the uneaten strawberries behind. We were notified that we’d all be taking the limo home after the party, which means we can have as many cocktails as we want.
It’s chilly out, but I eschewed a coat in favor of a black velvet and silk shawl wrapped around my shoulders and folded into the crook of my elbows. The beading along the edge matches the tiny black clutch in my hand that holds lipstick, a credit card, my driver’s license, and cell phone.