“Start with ‘sorry I’m being weird,’” Elliot suggests. “Then go from there.”
“What if he’s already decided I’m too much work?”
“Then he’s an idiot and we’ll help you murder him,” Goldie says cheerfully. “But he won’t. Brody says Roman’s been moping around like someone cancelled hockey. That’s not a man who’s decided you’re too much work. That’s a man who’s worried he fucked up.”
“He didn’t fuck up?—”
“You didn’t either,” Elliot says firmly. “You just need to actually communicate instead of avoidinghim.”
The waiter brings food and we eat in comfortable silence for a moment before Goldie’s phone buzzes. She checks it and grins.
“Dex wants to know if we’re corrupting you.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That we’re getting you day drunk and giving unsolicited advice about your sex life. He approves.” She types something back. “He also says to tell you that Roman’s been ‘aggressively sad’ since he showed up at the rink. His words, not mine.”
“Aggressively sad?”
“Apparently he’s hitting harder than usual but looks sad while doing it.” Goldie shows me the text. “Very confusing for everyone involved.”
I choke back a laugh. “That sounds awful.”
“It is awful. You both sound miserable.” Elliot signals for more wine. “So maybe stop avoiding him and actually deal with it?”
“I will. Eventually.”
“Or he’ll corner you first and you won’t have a choice,” Goldie says. “My money’s on that happening within the next 24 hours.”
Back at the facility,I’m marginally tipsy and significantly less panicked.
The WAGs are right—I need to talk to Roman. I just need to figure out how.
Rodriguez saunters into the training room, slightly sweaty and holding a water bottle.
“You smell like booze,” he observes.
“I had brunch.”
“Day drinking during working hours. I approve.” He drops onto the bench next to where I’m updating charts. “So. I need advice.”
“Medical advice?”
“Girl advice.” He grins when I look up. “There’s this girl. She’s cool. I’ve been trying to talk to her. But I don’t know if she’s actuallyinto me or just being nice because I’m, you know—” He gestures at himself. “Hockey player with a social media following.”
“Rodriguez, I don’t think I’m qualified?—”
“You’re a woman who’s successfully navigating a relationship with Cap. That makes you extremely qualified.” He leans forward. “Seriously though. How do I know if she actually likes me or just likes the idea of dating a hockey player?”
I set down my tablet. “Does she ask about your games or about you?”
“What’s the difference?”
“Does she want to know about your stats or does she want to know what you’re thinking about? Big difference.”
He taps his fingers on the table, processing. “Huh. That’s actually really smart.”
“I have my moments.”
