“Ouch. Downgraded to one per day, huh?” I say, pulling out of the parking space.
“A kiss like that might be once per week.”
“That wasn’t in the contract.”
“There was no contract,” she says, leaning into my chest. I put my arm around her shoulder.
“There was an agreement. Once per setting. The way I see it, we’re a couple short for the day.”
I can feel her smile against my chest.
We’re halfway home when my phone rings in the cupholder.
I ignore it, but Kayla says, “Sean, you should probably answer. It says ‘Coach Otto.’”
My fingers on her back go from hot to cold, like ice is spreading through my veins. I put the phone up to my ear. “Otto, good to hear from you,” I say.
Kayla sits upright, her eyes on mine.
“Sean, how are you?” he asks. The Arsenal’s goalie coach has a friendly tone, but his voice takes the happy haze I’ve been in all day and replaces it with an icy anxiety.
“I’m good,” I say. “I got married yesterday, in fact.”
Why did I tell him that? Why was that the first thing out of my mouth? I feel like a little kid showing my dad a scribble and wanting him to be proud. That scribble is my marriage. It’s not real art, and it’s definitely not portraying the image in my head, the image that’s too rapidly making its way to my heart.
“And we weren’t invited?” Otto actually sounds surprised by this. Why? I’m not their real goalie. Chances are, I’ll never see these guys again.
“I figured you all had better things to do,” I say. And I realize it’s the truth. I didn’t think about inviting them, but if I had, I’m sure I would have talked myself out of it. They don’t need me or want me for anything anymore. Their starting goalie is already in recovery post-surgery, and their backup is rock solid.
Out of the corner of my eye, Kayla looks stiffer. A quick glance tells me she looks—shoot, is she hurt?
“It was fast,” I add for her benefit. And Otto’s, I guess. “But mostly, I’m an idiot. Sorry, Otto.”
“No need to apologize. If you have a bigger party, though, please let us know.”
Does he mean that? Does he really think they would have come?
“I will,” I tell him. “We’ll have something later this summer, and I’ll be sure to send out real invitations. But I can’t imagine you called to hear about that. What can I do for you?”
“What can I do for you is the better question. The team was impressed with your performance in the playoffs. I’m coming to Mullet Ridge and want to see how your knees are holding up. If they’re doing well, we may want to extend your contract.”
The ice in my veins has frozen. I can’t move. Can’t even think.
It’s a good thing I’ve pulled onto my street. I let the car coast into my parking spot and let muscle memory shift it into park.
“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” I look at Kayla, who looks back, her face unreadable.
Otto chuckles. “Sean, I’ll be at your arena—your barn, I think you call it—tomorrow around ten.”
“Tomorrow? At ten?” My mouth goes dry, and my eyes are still fixed on Kayla. We’re supposed to leave home at six thirty tomorrow morning to board a nine o’clock flight out of Columbia.
“Unless you have something more important.”
“Actually—” I start, but then Kayla shakes her head, hard. Then she stabs a finger at the phone. Or is it at me? “Uh?—”
Kayla rolls her hands, like she’s trying to tell me to say something, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. How I’m supposed to answer.
“Say yes!” she whispers firmly, almost like she’s mad at me.
