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Okay, I want to fuck her senseless first. Make her come against every horizontal, vertical, and humanly accessible angle in the room. And then I want to hold her in my arms through the rest of the night. And after we walk Zamboni through the city— because, yeah, I’m bringing my boy —I want to do it all again.
Spoiler alert: It’s not happening.
That’s not how it works in the NHL. We don’t bring dates on the road. It’s not new. What is new… is that for the first time in my career, I really, really wish we could.
But now I’m back in Chicago, and instead of Bowie driving me home so I can relax, unpack, and snuggle my dog, I’ve got him dropping me at Lara’s building so I can take her to lunch, hear about New York, and ask her about her vacation time and which of the cities I spend my season hopping around to she’d like to visit first. It’ll be her and me and Zamboni on an epic road trip for three.
Shit, maybe she’d actually like a road road trip. We could rent an RV. Something deluxe. Tour the highways and?—
“Welcome to Giles, Hall, and Wren. Can I help you?” a guy who looks like he could be my dad says from behind the front desk. I’ve been here before to pick Lara up, but usually it’s after hours when reception is gone for the day.
“Ben Boerboom, here for Lara Elliot. I’m a little early but we’ve got a—” I’m about to say date but catch myself in time. This is her place of business. “Lunch.”
“Ms. Elliot is in a meeting, but if you’ll have a seat, I’d be happy to get you a coffee while you?—”
“No, no.” A petite woman with a no-nonsense air about her breezes in, waving off the reception guy’s words before he’s finished them. She gives me a wide smile and holds out her hand. “Boomer? I’m Fatima.”
Feeling a little starstruck at meeting Lara’s mentor, idol, and favorite person to talk about, I kind of want to pull her in for a hug and ask her to sign my shirt or something. Got a couple Sharpies in my suit pants, after all. But since she’s got her hand out, I shake instead.
“Nice to meet you, Fatima. Lara says great things about working with you.”
She hums, starting down the hall and motioning for me to follow. “Likewise. So Boomer, this wouldn’t happen to be a celebratory lunch now, would it?”
Huh? Something tells me she’s not referring to the Slayers win last night. “Went that good in New York, huh?”
Maybe my girl’s going to score herself a corner office in these fancy digs.
She laughs, giving me a knowing wink. “Lara’s promotion, obviously! Don’t worry, it’s fine that she told you. No secret. She’s so talented. Creative. Dedicated. I adore her and adore that she’s been given this honor. She’s earned it.”
And now I’m grinning too, looking up and down the hall for her, like she’ll suddenly be there, ready to jump into my arms. Except, meeting. Right.
“That’s fantastic!” She must have wanted to surprise me with the news at lunch. “She’s got to be thrilled. I know what this job means to her.”
Fatima stops beside a small conference room with a couple comfortable chairs and a low coffee table, and ushers me inside. “It shows. No one’s ever been promoted from Denver to New York so quickly. But that’s our Lara. Shooting for the top, nothing getting in her way.”
And then I get it. Not a corner office. At least not in this building.
New York.
“Amazing.” I nod, a little stiffly, maybe, but I keep my smile up like the PR machine I’ve been groomed to be, despite the fact that my head is about to explode, and there is something truly unpleasant happening in my chest.
Fatima tells me to make myself comfortable. The meeting should be wrapping up.
Blah, blah, blah.
I nod. Smile again. And when the door closes, I drop into an overstuffed chair and push the heels of my hands into my eyes.
Lara’s going to New York. She’s leaving.
Thank God I didn’t stop at home to bring Zamboni along. Don’t want him to see me like this.
Hell, I don’t want Lara to see me like this either. She gets a promotion, and I’m sitting here on the brink of hyperventilating.
Fuck. I thought I’d have more time. We’d have more time. But since that’s not how this is going down, I need to get my shit together and get on board the celebration bus.
I know what Lara’s career means to her. And because she means everything to me… by extension, her career does too.
It’s basic relationship math.
