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“Right. That’s no fun.” She seems disappointed that I burst her bubble about the reception idea. “Maybe I should check out more conventional places where no one will get hurt. That would be my luck that someone would fall and crack their head open on my wedding day.”
“We can look into it if you want. I’m sure there are other things we could arrange if the dates work out, and everyone is okay with the venue.”
She grins. “Thanks, Regan. I’d love that if we can make it work.”
By the time the third period starts, Coach and I end up giving the girls around us the rundown after each stoppage of play. How they can be married to professional athletes and not even attempt to learn the sport is beyond me. Candice seems like she tries to understand, but most of the time she mixes up the penalties and doesn’t know when or why the lines always change.
One minute, she’s talking about how amazing her husband looks on the ice, and the next, she’s inviting Coach and me to Sunday brunch with the girls as if we’re one of them. We politely decline, of course. I always say no, as does Coach. We have nothing in common. I have no idea how Coach and I would even carry a conversation with them over brunch.
The game is tied with thirty seconds left on the clock until the Penguins take a shot on goal that hits the crossbar and lands next to Tyler Kane’s skate. As the captain of the team and the fastest player on the team, Kane rushes down the ice, his speed and agility working in his favor. He moves the puck a few times before he regains it and passes it to Parker, allowing him to take the shot that sails between the goalie’s legs.
He scores and the entire arena erupts into chaos, everyone around us clapping and cheering. The team huddles together into a hockey hug to celebrate their victory. The Flyers were amazing tonight. Their mojo is back, and our boys are stronger and faster than ever. The team has a nice rhythm going. We are making the playoffs. That much I can guarantee.
Coach hugs me, jumping up and down along with me. Our excitement dies down once the crowd mellows out and the seats begin to empty. I look over at the Flyers bench and spot Alex staring at Coach. He presses his glove to the glass, and she returns his smile.
“You guys are too cute,” I say to Coach, sounding unlike myself. I never say things like that. But I mean what I say. “I’ll see what I can do about the wedding. That would be kind of cool to have one here.”
“My man-of-honor would love it just as much as Alex and me. We pretty much grew up in this type of environment. I promised Jamie I wouldn’t kill him with girl stuff. Having our wedding here would be perfect.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Man-of-honor? What the hell is a man-of-honor?”
“Oh, right.” She laughs almost to herself. “I guess you haven’t met Jamie yet.”
“No, I haven’t. Only the little boy you bring to the games with you sometimes.”
“Rico,” she says, offering his name. “Jamie has been traveling a lot for work, so he doesn’t have as much time to come to the games with me anymore.”
“Rico is a cute kid. I’m sure he keeps you busy. But did you call your friend your man-of-honor? I have never heard that term before.”
“Yeah, well, my best friend is a man. I’m the farthest from conventional as you can get. It’s what they call a man who is filling the role of the maid-of-honor in a wedding.”
“That’s interesting. Does he have to wear a bridesmaid dress and do all the same things?”
She laughs so hard so doubles over. “No, you sound like Jamie. He asked me the same thing. You should have seen the look on his face when I’d asked him to be my man-of-honor. Of course, Alex had to be an ass and give Jamie a hard time. That didn’t make it any easier to explain it to him.”
“I guess there’s a first time for everything,” I say, unsure of how to follow-up with a reasonable response.
I know very little about weddings and anything in the same hemisphere. I’m the last person anyone would ask for advice when it comes to these types of things.
After the team heads to the locker room and the seats around us completely clear out, Coach and I finally make our way up the steps, climbing them side-by-side. We reach the top in record time and walk through the halls in almost silence. The only sounds come from the remaining people attempting to exit the building in a rush. After the game ends, the fans can’t get out of here fast enough.
By the time we reach the side entrance where Coach had parked her car, I hold the door open, allowing her to join me outside. Leaning my back against the door, I do my best to shake the chill from the cold metal against my skin. Coach zippers up her jacket before hooking her arm around me, leaning in to plant a kiss on my cheek.
“Let me know if you can fit us into the schedule. I won’t say anything to Alex until you know for sure, but that would be an event no one would forget.”
“I couldn’t agree more. I’ll do my best and get back to you.”
She releases me from her grip and takes a step back, her teeth chattering as she speaks. “Nice seeing you, Regan.” Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she finishes, “Give me a call sometime this week. Maybe we can grab lunch.”
I wave as she walks away. “Sounds good. I’ll call you.”
Once I’m back inside the warm building, I rub my hands together. My skin burns from the cold. I should be used to the weather at this point. Most of my life, I had split my time between Ontario—where my family is from—and Philadelphia—where my father had played hockey. And now he’s even more of a permanent fixture as their general manager.
I promised Coach something I have no idea if I can even deliver. A wedding on the ice at the Wells Fargo Center would be the wedding of the year. No, it would be the wedding of the century. As I walk toward my office, I keep my fingers crossed that I can deliver. I hate disappointing friends, especially since I have so few of them.
Chapter 3
Jameson
