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Urgh. I hate that term and if I appear in one more magazine calling me that with yet another headline speculating over when Ash will pop the question, I will, well, I don’t know what I will do, but I’m sure it would be something dramatic like, maybe, you know, post an announcement on my social media quashing those rumors. See, this is what I can’t figure out, I’m so dull, and yet the press love Ash and me. It’s weird. Weird when they photograph my outfits, then publish where you can buy them from, and also freaky as hell when the gossip columns write about what I had for lunch and how cute it was when I dropped mayo down my blouse while sitting in the park having lunch with Ash one day.
Apparently, I’m normal.
That’s what they like about me.
Down to earth Lily, who fell on her ass while running in heels in the rain and burst out laughing. It was all caught on camera. How is that even news?
I’m dull. Very, very, dull.
Why don’t they see that?
I bite my nail nervously.
I don’t want to walk the red carpet toward where the boys are all lined up on the ice like soldiers on parade.
The Eagles sailed through this season but tonight they play against Montreal in the hope of winning the coveted Stanley Cup and become this year’s NHL champions. Again.
I play with the ends of my cream scarf and while Ash is excited about tonight, all I can focus on is what feels like a colony of frogs jumping about in my stomach.
“Are you sure this is what they always do? I watched videos this afternoon and not one of them had their partners lining up to wish the players good luck pregame.”
Candy rolls her eyes, “Okay, so maybe I lied. It’s a new thing.”
“Do I have to do this? I think I need to pee.”
“Will you shut up?” Bree, Troy’s wife, chimes in. “You’re like this powerhouse wedding planner, and yet when it comes to this hockey stuff, you shy away from it like a wallflower.”
Her truthful observation hits a cord. “Fine. I will shut up.” She’s always right. They’ve reassured me that it gets easier. I’m hoping that happens soon.
“Great, now let’s do this.” Bree points at Candy, who has already made her way through the opening leading onto the red carpet they have laid out for us over the ice. Which is just as well as Candy’s heels are sharper than an icepick. She might pierce the ice and disappear through it, never to be seen again.
“You should’ve worn a dress and heels,” Bree says from behind me as I watch Candy shake her ass in her figure-hugging leather pants and hockey shirt with Brayden’s name and number on it, casually waving to the crowd as they cheer us onto the ice. She’s a natural at this.
Questioning my outfit, I look down at myself. “What’s wrong with what I have on?” I thought I was genius to find blue skinny jeans the exact shade of royal blue as the Eagles to pair with my hockey shirt with Ash’s number on it.
“Never mind,” she stutters. “It’s just, you might regret wearing jeans, that’s all.”
“What?” I snap over my shoulder. “What are you talking about? We practically have the same outfit on.”
“Will you two stop bickering like a pair of jitterbugs. Now smile and wave.” Candy shoots instructions at us over her shoulder. As a seasoned girlfriend and soon to be hockey wife of the infamous Brayden Scott, she’s accustomed to the exposure and limelight that comes with the sport.
I do what she says, waving like I’m a queen and forcing a smile. God, this is a little overwhelming. Until I see him. He’s there, standing at the end of the red carpet. He’s smiling at me and I swear I melt on the spot like hot butter. I don’t care about my clothes, or the fans or anything else for that matter, because the man I love and the man who has changed my life for the better, is here and he has this uncanny ability to settle all my nerves and concerns with the flash of his smile.
Hi, I mouth and wave in his direction. A few more steps and I’m standing directly in front of him.
“Hey, Tiger. You look beautiful.”
He would say that even if I was wearing a garbage bag.
The best months of my life have passed me by in a flash. Like Ash’s mom said, I helped him come out of his shell; going out with his teammates regularly, calling them to come over to his apartment for boys’ nights, organizing team visits to the children’s hospice wing to raise their spirits, even inviting the press along to shine a light and increase awareness of the great work they do, in the hope that more people would donate. He knew it would work, and in the short time I have known him, he’s a changed man. Just ask his friends. They can’t quite believe how much he smiles since we started dating.
Together we share everything, food, apartments, although he’s hinted how much easier it would be if I gave notice on my lease and moved in with him. It’s still early days, however, it does make sense. I did argue that if I do, I will contribute toward the bills and rent, but he dismissed me entirely and told me that I could pay him in other, more creative ways; blowjobs being one of them.
Of course, there’s the other side of him that no one gets to see but me. The sweet side that’s held me in his arms while I grieve my mom, calmed me down when I signed three wedding planning contracts all on the same day and freaked out, and has been there to work out my plan to finally leave my position at High Octane.
He’s a great man. The best.
Overhead, the commentator introduces himself, preparing the crowd for tonight’s proceedings and when I look to my left and right, I notice there is quite a bit of space around us, as if everyone has moved away. I turn from Ash and tune in to the commentary, looking up at the giant screens above us to discover my face on the screen.
