Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
I especially can’t say that because the cheery face of Oliver pops into my field of vision. He waves a hand as if he’s sorry to interrupt but has no choice. “Jessie has a packed day here in Vegas and she’s meeting with some of the hotel owners later, so we should do that coffee now.”
Translation: don’t keep the owner waiting. And since we don’t need an annulment now, I guess we’re free to have coffee. Oh, joy.
“Of course,” I say, and since Hayes can make a game-day decision, so can I. “But is there any chance we could keep the marriage on the down-low on the plane home? Our whirlwind romance happened so quickly, and we’re obviously so wildly in love that we had to elope, but…” I stop, affecting an oops grin, “I need to tell my mom and grandma, since they obviously weren’t there last night.”
“Of course,” Oliver says with a smile, understanding me completely.
As we head to coffee, I flash Hayes a take that grin. Two can play at this fake marriage game.
Benefits of not going to the breakfast that morning? Snagging the window seat in the second row and asking Oliver to sit next to me. Benefits of my second white lie of the day, the one I told to Oliver about wanting to tell my family? Tucking the ring away in my jeans pocket.
I don’t know what Hayes did with his ring. I don’t know what he told Stefan. I avoid them both as they board. I flip open my laptop and I don’t look up as I research my piece for Birdie on the short flight back to San Francisco, my gut churning the whole time. Jessie’s not on the same flight. Oliver mentioned the meetings she had in Vegas. It’s a blessing that she’s not here, but there’s so much I need to deal with.
I don’t even know where to start. How big this will be. What this means. Maybe Oliver knows. As the plane is landing, I turn to him and quietly ask, “The team isn’t going to make a big deal of this, are they? I mean, I’m just the mascot.”
He gives a sympathetic smile. “We won’t post anything on our social unless you want us to.”
Others might though. We can’t possibly be that interesting. Can we? I sincerely hope the mascot and the new guy aren’t a story.
When I peer over the seats, the guys are grabbing bags and phones, slinging trash talk, flipping each other off. Like it’s a regular flight and one of their own didn’t just get married to, well, one of their adjacent own.
I don’t look at Hayes. I don’t even try to talk to him. He’s only texted me once since we left each other this morning.
Hayes: Can we talk later today?
I responded with one word. Yes.
As I shuffle off the plane, making sure to linger well behind the players, I chitchat with Oliver. I do my best to ignore the churning in my gut and the worries that bombard me over how the hell to navigate this new terrain. “We have your costume all made up and we’ll debut it at the next game,” Oliver says. “We’re going to do a fan poll too. It’s all set up, and we’ll prime the pump by taking videos of you in your new costume skating and firing T-shirts into the crowd.”
“Sounds fun,” I say, trying my best to stay focused on my job. Admittedly, operating a T-shirt cannon does sound like a blast. “I ran one in college. I’m a certified T-shirt cannon expert.”
And a liar.
But I’m also a dog mom, and once I get out of the airport, I text Trina, asking if she can meet me with my dog at a coffee shop, ideally with Aubrey too. I need girlfriend therapy. Badly.
24
FOOT MEET MOUTH
Stefan
Good thing I have cat-like reflexes, because I almost lose my footing on the treadmill later that afternoon when Hayes finally tells me why he’s been a moody bastard all day.
“Are you kidding me?” I ask, as I grip the sidebars, steadying myself.
We’re at my house in my state-of-the-art gym. From the treadmill next to mine, he sears me with a look that says he’s not at all kidding. “I wish.”
I catch back up to my pace, running some more, processing this turn of events. “That explains the sullen mood you’ve been in since the breakfast.”
“I was not in a bad mood at breakfast.”
“You were so.”
He heaves a sigh as he runs even faster. “I tried to hide it.”
“Try a little harder next time,” I tell him, annoyed with him for one of the first times ever. I rarely get annoyed with friends, especially Hayes. Or anyone, for that matter. Life’s too short for little grievances. At the moment, though, Hayes Armstrong is not my favorite person. “But back it up please. I want to get to the part where you’re in the elevator with the team owner and have the brilliant idea to explain your shenanigans last night by saying you’re still married.”