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“Yup!” I kiss her forehead. “And now it’s worth gold only for you!”
She walks away with the stick to go show her friends, and Emily comes back to me, caressing my bad arm with a light, feather touch.
"Boys!" Coach Hanson yells, "They're about to release the Swarm, get ready!" He often refers to the photographers and reporters as the ‘Swarm', a fitting term for the chaos that ensues when they descend.
“I don’t feel like talking to the reporters. Let’s head out,” I mutter to Emily, and off we go with Alissa in tow.
“Andrew!”
“We almost made it.” I sigh and turn around to see who called me.
Terry is there with a bunch of papers in his hand, and a glistening red face that shows how much he’s sweating inside an ice hockey arena.
“Golden boy!” he shouts with forced enthusiasm, approaching us quickly. “I have your new contract!”
I look at Emily, and I look at Alissa. Even the little girl sighs, looking suspicious of Terry.
“Isn’t there a better time for this, Terry?” I shrug him off, already turning back around. “I’m tired, and aching, and all I want is a shower. Tomorrow, okay?”
“No!” Terry insists, his tone firm. “I need to show you, Andrew! I know I’ve mentioned this to you before, but know you can see it, especially since you won the Stanley Cup. Your eyes will pop out of your head with how much you can get now. You’ll rethink retirement in a jiffy.”
I turn back to face him again, meeting his gaze with a determined expression. “Terry, I don’t need the money. I have more money than I know what to do with. It’ll last me more than a lifetime, and it’s all thanks to you, man!”
I pat him on the shoulder and just watch as Terry's demeanor visibly deflates as his eyes fall to the ground.
“I could have gotten you whatever the hell you wanted, golden boy…” he shakes his head, folding the papers in half.
That’s when I look at my girls again, bring them close to me, and then look Terry straight in the eye and say, “I have everything I need right here, Terry.”
I squeeze their shoulders, and they look back at me, the love in their eyes making me catch my breath.
Terry, exasperated for a second, calms down, and offers me his hand to shake. “I’ll agree to the latest amount that you and your lawyer offered. You pay that and you’re out of my contract. I’ll take care of ending yours with the NHL too. Have a nice life, Connoly,” he says.
“You too, man,” I nod, shaking his hand firmly. “You too.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
EMILY
Emily
Looking at Andrew’s older brother is like looking at Andrew in the future: ten years his senior, just as tall, and almost as muscular. He tells me that Andrew is going to age like fine wine, and looking at him, I believe it.
We're hosting Andrew's retirement party at his home in Chicago. It's the day before all the players, both from his previous team, the New York Arctic Wolves, and the Chicago Razorhawks, will gather for the big dinner. But for now, it's just family.
Tony’s kids are bonding with Alissa over video games. Their little one is completely absorbed in the game, fingers flying over the controller. Even the older one is engrossed, eyes glued to the screen.
“Thomas!” Tony's wife Mel calls out to the younger child. She's growing increasingly exasperated as her son remains oblivious.
“They are just really focused, honey,” Tony says, sipping a very fragrant red wine. “Right, James?”
James just nods absentmindedly, still fixated on the game.
“Can you ask Thomas if he wants to eat, James?” Mel says, holding an hors d'oeuvre in her hand then murmurs, “Maybe he’ll listen to him.”
James tears his eyes away from the screen momentarily to relay the message to his younger brother. However, Thomas barely acknowledges the question, his attention fully taken by the game.
Mel sighs, realizing her attempts at communication are falling on deaf ears. “They’re both so focused on those games,” she sighs, a hint of frustration in her voice.
