“Come up,” she says.
I take the elevator to the fourth floor and knock. She opens the door in jeans and a cream knit sweater. She steps forward and wraps her arms around me before I'm through the doorway.
“It'll get better,” she says into my chest. “The team will find it again.”
I hold her and press my lips to the top of her head. “I hope so.”
She pulls back and looks at my face. “You look exhausted.”
“I am exhausted.”
She kisses me softly, then turns and grabs a weekend bag from beside the door. I take it from her hand and sling it over my shoulder.
“That's it?” I ask. “One bag?”
“I pack light.”
“You are the only woman I've ever met who packs light.”
“I'm a woman of many talents, Shaw.”
We take the elevator down. In the small space between floors, I lean against the wall and rub my hand across my face.
“I haven't slept properly in a week,” I say. “The losses are getting into my head. I keep replaying shifts and second-guessing decisions.”
She takes my hand. “That's why we're going to Maine. You need to step away from it for forty-eight hours.”
“I don't know how to step away from it.”
She smiles, and there’s a hint of mischief there. “That's why you have me.”
The elevator opens, and we walk through the lobby to my car. I put the bags in the back seat and pull out into traffic heading toward the Lincoln Tunnel and New Jersey.
Jasmine settles into the passenger seat and kicks off her boots and tucks her feet underneath her. “So let me tell you about my week because you need to think about something other than hockey for the next two hours.”
“Go ahead.”
“Mabel called an emergency meeting on Wednesday because the sports betting partner filed a complaint about the compliance changes I recommended. They're claiming the new age-verification requirements on the app are costing them user engagement, and they want to renegotiate the contract.”
“Can they do that?”
“They can try. The compliance changes are non-negotiable because they're based on state regulations, not my personal opinion. But they're pushing back, and Wilder is nervous because the betting partner brings in serious revenue.”
“What did Mabel say?”
“Mabel said, and I quote, 'Let them complain. The regulations are the regulations. If they don't like it, they can find another team.' Then she told me to draft a response that was polite enough for a boardroom and firm enough to end the conversation.”
“Did you?”
“I sent it Thursday morning. Three pages. Clara read it and said it was the most elegantly threatening document she'd ever seen.”
I smile for the first time since the Ottawa game. “That sounds like you.”
“Thank you. I also had to deal with Jude Knight, who has been sniffing around the Renegades account because he smells an opportunity. He asked Mabel if he could assist me on the sports betting issue, and she said no.”
“Does this guy bother you?”
“Jude bothers everyone. He's the kind of lawyer who bills three hours for a one-hour meeting and takes credit for other people's research. Clara and I have a running theory that he sleeps in his office because nobody has ever seen him leave.”
