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After a year on the team, it’s fair to say that I’ve settled in for real. I socialize with my teammates. My English is improved. My passes are connecting. My apartment has some art on the walls.
Yet, if I’m honest with myself, I’m often lonely, even if I’m rarely alone. My teammates will be in a fun mood tonight. There will be women at the bar to flirt with and drink with. And, if I want, to take home.
But there’s only been one woman in Brooklyn who truly caught my interest. And last I heard, she was planning a spring wedding to the wrong man.
My hollow mood will probably pass, though, but not until after the holidays. It’s December twenty-third, and I have three days off in a row. It would go by quickly any other time of year. But Christmas without my family? It will be the longest three days of my life. Just like last year.
But first, drinks.
I ride with three of my teammates in a taxi, which makes the taxi driver roll his eyes. We are loud and take up every inch of his car. It’s a short trip, though, and my teammates are soon shoving against me playfully as we storm through the entrance of the tavern.
“Hurry,” Leo says, pushing on my back. “We have to start a game of darts before Heidi Jo gets here to crush us all.”
“That’s your strategy?” Castro asks. “Start the game before my wife can defend her title?”
“It’s the only way I can win.”
“I’ll buy the first round,” says O’Doul, our captain.
A cheer rises up, and Leo forgets about darts, because he’s too busy goading O’Doul into paying for top shelf liquor.
Millionaires like free drinks. That is a funny thing I have learned as my hockey career progresses.
I remove my tie and shove it in my pocket.
“Ivo, the darts?” Leo prompts. “I wasn’t kidding about being in a hurry.”
A glance toward the front of the bar confirms that Heidi Jo hasn’t arrived yet, though, and I have half a mind to stall, just to fuck with Leo.
I’m about to tease him, when my gaze snags on a beautiful woman at the bar. She’s holding a book in one hand and a martini glass in the other. I can’t see her face. But everything inside me goes quiet. Maybe it’s the tilt of her head that’s so familiar. Or the particular shine of her glossy black hair.
But thathasto be Chiara at the bar. I just know it.
The front door swings open, admitting a blast of chilly air, plus three or four more of my teammates. The one in front is Silas, though. He glances at the woman at the bar, and does a slight double take, like I just did. Then he lengthens his stride toward me.
“Dude,” he says when he arrives. “Your girl is at the bar.”
“She is not my girl,” I say automatically.
“But you have to go over there.”
I want to. But I’m not sure it would be welcome. “She looks like someone who wants to be left alone.”
We both take a second glance at Chiara, whose chin is down, her nose practically buried in that book.
“Nah,” Silas whispers. “This isourbar, on a night after a home game. That’s why she’s here.”
“You think?” I mean—Iwishit were true. But she’s never come in here before.
“Dude. You always go toherrestaurant when you want to see her.”
“Yes.” It’s true. Although I do not do so very often anymore. I do not like to see the happy couple together. For a while I only went on Tuesdays at lunch, when he would not be there. But even that eventually made me feel pathetic.
I miss the pizza, but I miss her more.
“She came here for a reason,” Silas presses. “I mean, it’s theoretically possible she didn’t know you would be here. But once she stepped inside and saw all the Hockey paraphernalia on every surface…“ He laughs. “She’d have to get a clue you know?”
I laugh, too, but I can’t stop staring. I haven’t seen Chiara’s smile in way too long. But her face is still hidden from me. “Take my game of darts.”
