Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“There is nothing wrong with liking him,” Zoe says, and I grab the baseball hat and put it back on my head.
“I don’t like him. He’s just a friend,” I lie, and we walk out, making our way down to the underground parking garage where the driver waits for us. There is almost no one here. I see some of the players walking out with their wives or girlfriends, but we don’t make eye contact. The driver sees us and gets out of the car to open the door. I get in first and then Zoe.
“Want company tonight?” she asks me, and I just shake my head.
“No, I have to pack for Chicago,” I tell her, and I just look out the window. I don’t bother looking at my phone. My head is a fucking mess, and I just don’t get it. I look over at her.
“I’ve known him three fucking days,” I tell her, and she knows this is the how we work things out. I just do all the talking. “Three days. I can’t like him.” I shake my head. “It’s crazy. Three days. I have food in my fridge older than that.”
“Why?” she finally says. “If it’s in the fridge longer than two days, chuck that shit out. It starts to smell.” Her face grimaces.
“He lives in a different time zone.” I keep the list going. “In a different state.”
“It could never work,” she says and then looks at me. “I have a friend in Dallas. I could maybe play matchmaker.” I turn and glare at her. “Well, that answers that question.”
“How do I know he doesn’t have a chick waiting in Dallas?” I tell her. “Or puck bunnies all around the United States?”
“Don’t forget Canada,” she says. “United States and Canada.”
“Yeah, there too,” I point out.
“He’s got a great smile,” she says, and I look over at her. I don’t have to agree with her because it’s obvious. “He has great sense of style that he had before you.” I nod. “He opens your door for you.” I roll my eyes. “And sends you one hundred roses.”
“He lives five hours from here by plane,” I tell her.
“What if this was me?” she asks me. “What if I were in your situation? What would you tell me to do?”
I cross my arms over my chest, not answering. “Exactly. You would be like fucking YOLO, Zoe.”
“I would not say that,” I tell her.
“Really? What about that biker I dated?” she says. “Zoe, YOLO. Zoe, who cares that he has a warrant for his arrest. Pretend he’s Charlie Hunnam.”
“I didn’t tell you to marry him,” I point out. “And didn’t you have good sex?”
“I woke up to his old lady coming in with their kid,” she points out. “She didn’t even blink that I was naked in his bed.”
I shrug. “I mean, I guess it’s a win.”
“Why don’t you just stop overthinking it and just go with it? Call him, don’t call him. Answer his calls, text him when you feel like it,” she says. “Just don’t shut it down before it even starts. Worst case, you have a great story to tell your kids.”
I look out the window, and she doesn’t say anything when the car pulls up to my house. I kiss my sister and tell her I’ll call her tomorrow. I walk up the steps to the house and unlock the door. My phone rings, and it’s Matthew.
“Hello,” I say, looking at the clock and seeing it’s almost eleven.
“Hey,” he says, and then I hear Karrie in the background. “Don’t answer anything.”
“Is something wrong?” I ask him, thinking the worst.
“I don’t know. Did you go to a hockey game tonight?” he asks, and I stop mid step. “You see, my sister hates hockey. She hates hockey like I hate going shopping.”
“I don’t hate hockey,” I tell him and start walking up the steps. “I attend most of your games.”
“So imagine my surprise when I turn on the game tonight and see a dipshit taking a penalty shot.” I try not to laugh at the nickname. “Then the camera zooms in on this woman who looks like my sister,” he says.
“Would you leave her alone, Matthew,” Karrie says in the background.
“Babe,” he hisses at her, “I’m talking to my sister.” Then he comes back to me. “I mean, she looks like my sister, but she’s wearing the ugliest green jersey of I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Now, I laugh. “Don’t laugh, Zara. What the hell is going on?”
“Nothing. I got tickets from a friend.”
“A friend?” he hisses. “You know he comes to town in three weeks, right?”
“And?” I ask him, turning on the light in my room and kicking off my shoes.
“And I’m going to kick his ass.”
“You will not,” Karrie hisses.
“Okay fine, I won’t, but I think Max needs to visit the penalty box.”