Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I study him for a moment. His beautiful face and earnest expression. The light within his eyes promising me a lot of great tomorrows. This whole setup, unnecessarily bringing a reporter with him to apologize and profess his love for me.
It’s so much more than that.
It’s his way of telling me that he truly is past all of his old insecurities and fears, and he is ready to start a new chapter of his life with me in it.
“Okay…you can kiss me,” I whisper.
“About fucking time,” he mutters, and then his mouth is on mine. It’s deep and claiming but not at all sexual. It’s a loving kiss and it speaks of whatever words got left behind.
Van is the first to pull away and I’m embarrassed my hands are curled clawlike into his T-shirt. He rubs his nose against mine, and then turns to Xander.
Pulling me into his side, curling his arm around me tight, he says, “Now…let’s talk about Arco. I’m going to be an open book, so you can ask me anything. And I’m going to be open about it because of the woman sitting beside me. I’ve got nothing to fear and nothing to hide because of her.”
My head tilts up and I gaze at Van with wonder. He’s looking at Xander with utter confidence, offering himself up as transparently as a person can get. He’s putting himself out there bravely and with such confidence I find myself swelling a little with pride.
“Okay,” Xander says gamely, and then throws a hard question. “Do you forgive your dad for what he did to your life?”
—
Much, much later.
After the interview was over—and it was a grueling two hours long—I fixed Van and me an early dinner.
And after that, we broke in—or just nearly broke—my bed having wild monkey makeup sex. Now I’m curled in Van’s arms.
“Did you really mean it?” I ask him quietly, my fingers trailing lightly over his abdomen.
“Yes, for the hundredth time, I love you, Simone,” he says in an exaggerated drawl.
I pinch him and he laughs at me. “Not that. I mean…about retiring.”
Van gets quiet and I hold perfectly still. Van said a lot of things that shocked me tonight; the biggest I thought would be his very public proclamation that he loves me.
But that wasn’t the most jaw dropping.
It was when near the end of the interview Xander asked us what our plans were. I, of course, had no answer because I’m still clueless about what I want in life other than I know for certain I want Van in it.
Van gave an easy shrug and told Xander, “I’ve reached the pinnacle of success in hockey. I think it might be time to move on.”
Xander’s jaw dropped for sure. “Retire from hockey?”
Van shrugged again. “I’m considering it. Maybe Simone and I can do some traveling or something.”
I was so stunned then I couldn’t even respond, and besides that, the interview was wrapping up. After a few more minor questions, Xander thanked us both with a hearty handshake to Van and a hug to me, and then he was gone.
“I told you I had wanted to go to college and study psychology, right?” Van asks me, jerking me out of my memories.
“Right.”
“Maybe I’ll give college a try,” he says. “Or…we could travel like I said.”
“Or,” I suggest a little aggressively, “you could play hockey still.”
Van rolls to face me, bringing his hand to my jaw. “Simone…not every player out there thinks this game is the most important thing in the world. I know that might be hard to believe, but I’ve given ten years to this league and it’s given me a lot in return. But I have other things I want to do. School, travel. I want to be with you, not on the road a third of the year.”
My eyes search him for some sign that he’s lying about this. Or maybe not thinking straight. But he just stares back at me with conviction.
“It’s just…” I trail off, not know what the fuck this all means.
“It’s just what?” he prompts me.
“It’s just…you never asked me if I loved you,” I blurt out. “How can you be so confident all of a sudden, and I haven’t even said the words to you?”
“Well, do you?” he asks.
“Yes,” I reply.
“There you have it,” he says with a grin.
“You obviously knew,” I continue, not wanting to drop this subject with just a nonchalant there you have it from Van. “You came here with a reporter, knowing I loved you and that I was not done with you.”
Van’s eyes bore into mine and his smile is languid. “Baby…I knew you loved me that night you found the shoe box. I tried to push you away a few times, and you just wouldn’t leave. You threw yourself at me one time, wrapped your arms around me so tight I thought nothing would ever feel better. And I didn’t do the same back to you, and you told me…you said, ‘You better wrap your arms around me motherfucker.’ Do you remember that?”