Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
“Shh. Don’t be silly. You have to go to Seattle.”
“How do we do this?” I laced our fingers, needing this contact more than I thought I would. “It’ll be public. I hope you’re okay with that. I came out to Vinnie and my sister…and my coach. I want to be out. All the way out.”
“You’re sure? I mean, you want hockey too, right?”
“And you. Us. We come first. But…maybe I can be a hockey player, be bisexual, and have you.” I paced from the door to the hallway. “I can do some good in the league. I can be out and proud and play on the biggest stage in the world.”
“I like this idea. What did your coach say?”
“I didn’t give him a chance to say anything. He’s a good guy, but this might not go my way. I might be released or benched for the rest of the season…I don’t know. Fuck, maybe I should stay here. I love Elmwood. I can move in with you, work with Vinnie and the juniors, eat at the diner, buy lattes at Rise and Grind and cookies at the bakery, play bingo at—”
He shut me up with a kiss. “Go play hockey first.”
“Right. Okay. I just…can I ask you for five months? Will you wait till next season for me?”
“Oh, Riley, mon ami. I would wait till the end of time for you.”
I beamed. “That’s fucking romantic.”
“No, it’s just love.”
“Fuck, I really love you.”
“Je t’aime, mon cher. Je t’aime.”
This love thing was a strange phenomenon. It felt as though we were holding hands on the precipice of a steep cliff, prepared to jump without a parachute into the unknown. It was scary, but exhilarating too. I had no doubt this was where I was supposed to be.
There was no reason to wait. We didn’t need next time or next season. We had forever to look forward to. Starting now.
EPILOGUE
“Love is just a word until someone comes along and gives it meaning.”―Paulo Coelho, Aleph
Eighteen months later
Jean-Claude
The black awning over the bistro contrasted nicely with the freshly painted bluish-gray door. There was a bit of controversy regarding the pop of color. Apparently, the town council in Pinecrest had been hoping for a sleek, uniform black and that particular shade of azure was a bit too bold. We’d respectfully disagreed and had politely informed them that the color was nonnegotiable.
Perhaps it was a silly detail to fight over, but I was adamant and I hadn’t been inclined to explain my reasoning. I mean, it sounded odd to say the door was the color of your boyfriend’s eyes, eh?
Riley had rolled his beautiful eyes and said I was a hopeless romantic. His pink cheeks told me he didn’t mind so much, though. Good, because in my mind, the little details mattered and this place was beautiful now.
The rustic wood tables, contemporary lighting, and white-paneled walls screamed simple yet elegant. It looked the part of a bougie bistro, but I was no novice. I’d hired an experienced staff and created a sophisticated menu that would appeal to anyone interested in modern farm-to-table dining. That was the plan, anyway.
After a year and a half of dealing with permits, a major remodel, and assembling a reliable team, C’est Bon was finally set to open within a week. Sure, we could have opened sooner, but we’d been a bit busy.
I’d accepted Nolan’s offer of forty percent of the diner, and had gone fifty-fifty with him on C’est Bon. Riley had invested in my fifty percent, and Vinnie had invested in some, if not all of Nolan’s half too. Our hockey players knew nothing about food, so our operation was expected to run the same as the diner.
The real difference would be the menu. C’est Bon was slated to be French fusion while the diner was classic American with the occasional French twist.
“What do you think?” I asked, looping my arm over Riley’s shoulders as I tilted my chin toward the awning.
“Love it. It’s sharp and classy. I think this is gonna be a swanky joint.” He slipped his sunglasses down his nose and waggled his brows.
“Swanky,” I repeated. “I like that word. What time is your family arriving tomorrow?”
“Not till late afternoon. My sister and Martin rented a van, and Tara thinks they have enough room to schlep our folks, the kids, and everyone’s luggage, but I told them we can help if necessary. My schedule is very open,” he grinned.
“Not for long, love.”
I kissed his cheek and impulsively kissed the corner of his mouth too. Why? Because he was mine and everyone knew it. And also, there was something rather empowering about a bold public display of affection with my newly retired hockey star boyfriend.
Yes, after seventeen years in the league, Riley Thoreau had hung up his skates in an emotional final game in Seattle last month. The already pumped-up crowd had cheered as the Slammers took the ice one by one, and when Riley’s name was announced, the noise level had skyrocketed to ear-splitting levels.