She walks out of the room, and I’m thankful for the alone time—but as her footsteps fade out of the room, I hear her say, “Nope. Room’s closed tonight.”
“Come on, Rubes, it’s our room.”
Easton.
“And the three blind mice can find somewhere else to hang,” she says.
“Chipmunks, Ruby. Not mice.”
Oh, fuck. The Chipmunks are here too.
“Could’ve fooled me. Sorry, Decker.”
“Decker?” Easton walks in and pulls out the chair next to me, dropping into it. “Why didn’t you call me if you’re here?”
I’m not sure Easton even realizes how much he hates to be alone. Which explains why three large professional hockey players join us at the table, two of them turning their chairs around to straddle them.
“Deck, man, what’s up?” Simon says.
“You sick or something?” Theodore asks and slides his chair back, covering his mouth. “I can’t catch anything. I’m finally getting regular ice time.”
“Nah, he looks like Conor did, remember?” Alvin elbows Simon, and they nod in agreement with Theodore. Then Alvin rubs his hands together. “Lucky for you, we’re here now.”
“Lucky?” I arch an eyebrow.
“We’re the entire reason Conor Nilsen is married to Eloise.” Alvin puffs out his chest, clearly not hearing the sarcasm in my voice.
“That’s a bold statement.” Easton leans back in his chair.
“It’s true,” Simon says.
They all raise a hand. “Swear,” they say in unison.
“In the Uber with him on the way to the church,” Alvin starts.
“We convinced him to stop her wedding.” Theodore smiles at his buddies.
Easton and I share a look. We’ve heard the story a few times, and that’s not exactly the version we got, but if they think they did it, who am I to argue?
“Goldie, you do look like shit. Talk to us.” Easton’s face is filled with genuine concern.
I glance at the three guys to my left. They play another sport, on a different team, but I can’t risk them finding out who I’m talking about. Easton knows enough to suspect, though I’ve never come right out and told him Penelope’s invading my every thought, my marrow.
“I’m good, thanks.”
Easton leans back in his chair, seeming to accept my answer.
We watch some guy chase another guy across the screen, flying over poles, jumping and sliding under risers. It does take some strategy. Maybe I should quit baseball and enter chase tag. I was always a good runner.
“Come on. Let’s play darts.” Easton stands and pulls the darts from the board.
“Good idea!” Theodore joins him by the boards. “Here’s what we’re going to do.” He spreads the darts out around each of us as though he’s running a board meeting. “Every round, if you hit your number, no questions. You miss, you answer.”
I frown. “Answer what?”
“Whatever question we ask.” He shrugs with a cocky glint in his eye.
“I’m not playing a game about my personal life with you three.”
