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But maybe that’s for the best.
No, it definitely is.
Ellie
Damn, what a loud-ass doorbell Nils has. And it just has to ring when we’re clearly having a moment.
But now the connection has been ruined, so I huff and look away. “That must be the pizza,” I mutter.
“I’m sure it is.” He sighs as he stands up. “I’ll go get it.”
As I wait for Nils to return, I think about how we really do need partners in our lives who understand our passions. Like, I may be figuring things out, but what I told him is true. Once I have a new direction, which may even end up being my old direction, I plan to be 100 percent committed to it.
“That doesn’t mean you can’t have someone special in your life,” I remind myself softly.
It’s true, and saying it out loud makes it more of a possibility.
Wouldn’t it be wild if Nils is that person for me?
And I’m the one for him?
I mean, hockey is his number one priority, and I’m fine with that.
Or I could be.
“I could,” I say out loud with a smile. “I definitely could.”
“What could you do?” Nils asks as he returns to the room, pizza held high in one hand and two bottles of Coke intertwined in his fingers in the other.
Damn, that man has excellent hearing.
“Er, uh, um…,” I stammer as I try to come up with some plausible explanation. And then I do. “I was just saying to myself that I bet I could eat more pizza than you.”
“You think so, huh?” He raises a brow as he sets the pizza box and Cokes down on the coffee table. “Are you sure enough that you really would bet on it?”
Oh crap, I’ve trapped myself in a corner now. I’m hungry, yes, but as I eye the extra-large pizza box on the table in front of me, I’m not sure I can outeat this man.
Nils goes on. “You know, some hockey players love to bet on things.”
I laugh. “And just why do I have a feeling you’re one of them?”
“Because I am,” he states proudly, puffing out his chest. “So, are you up for a little wager or not?”
I don’t know what I’m getting into, but I go ahead and say, “Yes, I am.”
I kind of have to at this point.
Nils, looking pleased that we’re wagering, says, “Okay, first, before I put out there what I want if I win, I have to ask if you’re working tomorrow.”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “I’m off. Well, wait, until the evening. I have a short shift then.”
I don’t elaborate that it’s actually my training session at Boots that I need to go to. That must remain a secret.
Nils sounds über-excited as he exclaims, “Great! This will work, then. I only have a morning practice, and what I have in mind won’t go into the evening.”
“Okayyy,” I draw out. “Go on.”
Looking pumped, he states, “If I win, you have to promise to spend the day tomorrow out back at the pool with me. It’s supposed to be beautiful, even warmer than today.”
