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“Are you staying here tonight?” I ask between kisses, making her walk backward toward my room and shedding her clothes along the way.
“I brought an overnight bag, just in case.”
“You are seriously the best girlfriend I’ve ever had,” I tell her as I lie us down on the bed.
Brittany laughs, and the sound turns me on more. “Why don’t you stop talking and get naked already?” My clothes are coming off before she can finish the sentence.
Trace: Pack a bag. You’re staying with me tonight.
Trace: Meet me at my house at 4:30.
Me: Why?
Trace: Date.
Those texts were sent this morning and I’m still smiling as I pull into Trace’s driveway. I’m excited to see what we’re doing today, even more excited because I feel good today. I almost feel like myself again. Moments like these need to be cherished and enjoyed because that’s just the thing. They are moments. Fleeting. Brief. A section of time that turns into a memory before anyone’s ready for it.
Trace is walking out of the house and waving for me to get out of my car already.
“What’s the rush?” I ask as he opens the passenger door of his car for me.
“Time crunch.” He closes it and walks around.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he shifts into reverse.
“To a hockey game.”
“Hockey? Why are we doing that? We have a hockey team?”
Trace laughs. “What kind of North Carolinian are you, Britt? At the very least, everyone knows about the pro teams. You mean to tell me you’ve never even heard of the Carolina Rebels?”
I stare at him, even though he’s focused on driving. “No, I haven’t. That would require paying attention to sports even a little bit, Trace. I don’t even watch the news! The closest I get to that is you with your Dateline.” He laughs and I repeat my question. “Why a hockey game? Do you know anything about hockey?”
“Not really. A coworker had two tickets and he couldn’t go, so he asked if anyone wanted them. I figured it would be a good way to get away for a little bit. That’s why we’re leaving so early. We have to drive to Raleigh, and who knows what traffic will look like.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “So, we’re going to watch a sport we know nothing about?”
“Pretty much.”
“Okay.” Why not, right? It’ll be cool to at least say I’ve done it.
Trace reaches over and takes my hand in his, resting them both on the console between us. We don’t say much. Trace has his country music playing on the radio. Every now and then, he squeezes my hand and shoots me a smile. We make it to the arena in good time. Crowds don’t usually bother me, not really. I just don’t want to feel like a sardine. I need space to breathe and move my elbows.
The one instance when the crowd seems to converge, Trace wraps an arm around my shoulders and tugs me into his side. I’ve never been more grateful for someone who gets me and knows me as well as he does. The sight of nachos and cheese with what looks like BBQ on top makes me pull him to the side.
“Did you see that?” I ask.
“See what?”
I roll my eyes. “You’re how tall and you missed those BBQ nachos? We need to find those. I want to try it.” My stomach growls as I realize we haven’t had dinner yet.
“All right. Let’s go find them.”
I swear we walk half the arena before we find them. Sure enough, you can buy a plate of nachos and cheese with chunks of BBQ on top. There’s even an option to add coleslaw, but I’m not so sure about that. Trace buys us a plate, plus two drinks, and we make sure to add some of the vinegar mixture. Then, we finally head to our seats.
“Who gives up tickets like this?” I ask as we settle in. We’re in the lower bowl, about midway up behind one of the nets where a goalie will be. I’m assuming these are good tickets.
“A man with a sick wife.”
