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We hang up, and I change into my suit so I’ll be ready for the game. Once I grab the few other things I’ll need, I’m heading to my truck and driving to Elizabeth’s house. She’s sitting on the front porch when I get there. I grin, remembering how I was doing the same thing the other night. She stands, but waits for me to come meet her.
She lifts onto her toes to kiss me quickly. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Where’s my present?”
I grab her hand, start heading south, and she laughs, yanking it out of my hold.
“Don’t even, Marc. I want the real present that you’re holding behind your back, not what’s in your pants.”
“Let’s go inside.” She has her arms wrapped around her, so I know she’s cold. Elizabeth rolls her eyes, but turns to walk into the house. She holds her hands out with a smile. “I don’t know if you’ll like it.” I honestly don’t. Hockey is an iffy subject with Elizabeth. Anything that’s related to hockey will be hit or miss with her.
“I’ll love it because you gave it to me.”
“That’s a cheesy line.”
“Fine. If I hate it, I’ll politely thank you, wait six months to a year, and then gift it to someone else. You’ll know if I like it. Either way, it’ll all be okay.” She wiggles her fingers.
Without waiting a second longer, I bring the shirt from behind my back and place it in her hands. My first thought was a jersey, of course, but for some reason, that made me hesitate. A jersey seemed like too much. It didn’t feel right. I wanted to give her something, though, so a Rebels T-shirt with Polinski headlining over the number nineteen seemed like a good compromise.
Elizabeth doesn’t realize what it is at first. She unfolds it, holding it up in front of her, which blocks my view. All I see is the Rebels logo. I hear a sniffle right when her hands start shaking. Fuck. Bad decision.
“I’ll wear it to the next game,” she whispers as she lowers it.
“What? No, it’s okay.” Her eyes are all watery. Something so simple should not make her cry! “You—”
“Marco.”
My protest dies on my lips. “Polo.”
She grabs my hand and drags me to the girls’ bedroom. The door is always closed, and I haven’t been in it since that first time. She takes me over to the closet.
“Just to explain my reaction,” she mutters. “Wait. No.” She whirls around to face me. “First, I love it. Thank you. I will wear it to the next game, and even on Sunday because maybe that’ll help win Stella over for you.” She releases my hand, faces the closet, and leans down to open a bin. A second later, she has my shirt tucked under her arm. “The tears aren’t because of you.” She holds up a T-shirt that is plain on the front, but it has Boyd on the back. The number isn’t Scott’s, so I can only assume it’s Roger’s. “Last hockey shirt I got. Mini flashback. That’s all. I’m sorry it ended up overshadowing your gift.” She drops his shirt back into the bin without folding it up.
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not.” She frowns, slinging her arms around my waist. “I am so unbelievably happ
y to have you here, Marc, and it does bother me that I cry so much over my life with him when I’m with you, but I didn’t deal with his death at all for so long. I break down here and there because of that. It’s a good thing, though; it means I’m finally moving forward.” Her arms tighten around me, saying what she didn’t want to because she isn’t quite ready to say that still.
With me.
She’s moving forward with me.
She lifts up to kiss me real quick and then runs around me. “I’m going to make sure it fits.”
I’d like to roll my eyes. I’ve had my hands on her body, seen her body, and have had it against me enough to know that the shirt will fit her. I follow her out of the room, shutting the door behind me, and admire the brief flash of skin I see before it’s covered by my name and number.
“Looks good.”
She whirls around with a smile. “Doesn’t it?”
It looks really good. I got her the women’s shirt, so it’s fitted and a V-neck with the Rebels logo stretched across her breasts. She spins one more time. Her blonde hair flies up before settling, brushing her shoulders.
“When are we going on our next date?” She props her hands on her hips with a raised eyebrow.
“Soon.”
