“He buys me macarons in every city he plays in. It started as a joke, and now it's a thing. I have a ranking system.”
“What's number one?”
“Paris. Montreal is a close second.”
Avery turns around from the row ahead. “Liam left me a jersey on the bed the first time I traveled to watch him play. It had his name on the back. I nearly killed him because we weren't public yet, and having a jersey with his name on it felt like a billboard announcement.”
“Did you wear it?” I ask.
“Under my coat. Nobody saw it, but I knew it was there.”
Natalie is quieter. “Ethan doesn't do grand gestures. When I traveled for his first game back after the injury, he just texted me after warm-ups. Two words. You're here. But the way he typed it, I knew what it meant.”
We talk for the rest of the flight about the men, the lifestyle, and the strange and wonderful reality of loving someone whose job involves getting hit by strangers while thousands of people watch.
Harper tells me about the first time she saw Cole fight and how she screamed so loud that the woman next to her spilled her beer. Avery talks about learning to read the game so she could understand what Liam was doing on the ice.
Natalie explains hockey injuries in detail, which makes Harper cover her ears.
The plane begins its descent into Toronto Pearson. The city appears below us, sprawling and lit up against the darkening sky. The CN Tower rises above everything, a needle of light against the clouds.
We land, collect our bags, and pile into a black SUV that Harper arranged. The drive to the hotel takes forty minutes through evening traffic. Toronto is beautiful at night. It’s clean and modern, with wide streets and glass towers that glow against the sky.
The hotel is the Shangri-La in the entertainment district. The lobby is all marble and soft lighting with enormous flower arrangements on every surface. Harper checks us in, and we take the elevator to the twenty-eighth floor. Two rooms with a connecting door.
Harper and I in one, Avery and Natalie in the other.
Our room is large with two queen beds and a wall of windows overlooking the city. The CN Tower is right there, lit up in blue, so close it dominates the entire view.
I drop my bag on the bed and pull out my phone. A text from Logan spreads pleasure all over my body.
You land okay?
Me: We're at the hotel. The room has a view of the CN Tower.
Logan: Wait until you see it during the day. Meet me tomorrow morning? I know a coffee place in Yorkville that's worth the walk.
Me: What time?
Logan: Ten. I'll send you the address. Wear comfortable shoes.
I put my phone on the nightstand and change out of my travel clothes. Through the connecting door, Avery and Natalie are arguing about who gets the bed closest to the window.
We reconvene in the lobby at eight and take a cab to a Japanese restaurant in Yorkville that Harper found. The hostess leads us to a corner table, and we order everything on the menu.
Edamame, sashimi, tempura, gyoza, two kinds of ramen, and a bottle of sake. The food is exceptional. By the second round of sake, we're loud enough that the table next to us glances over.
Natalie does an impression of Ethan trying to use chopsticks that reduces Avery to tears. By eleven, we're back at the hotel, full, happy, and slightly drunk.
Harper and I brush our teeth side by side at the bathroom sink.
“I'm glad you came,” Harper says through a mouthful of toothpaste.
“Me too.”
“Tomorrow is going to be fun. Seeing the city with Logan and then the game.”
“It's not just about Logan. It’s also being with you girls. I haven't had this in a long time. A group of women who just show up for each other.”
