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My smile grows, thinking about it. “That’s a great idea. Wow. We’re really going to do this?”
She nods excitedly. “Who knows? Maybe you could bring Jax or Kerrigan sometimes too.”
“Maybe,” I softly agree.
“Rumor has it you haven’t been sleeping at the condo.”
I blow out a breath. “Rumor, huh?”
“Pesky things.” She smirks, and I shake my head.
“It’s not official. I haven’t moved out or anything. Not yet,” I add, not sure what the hell Cross and I are doing... not yet.
“Thatyetis important,” she tells me.
“Yeah, thatyetis important.”
Ipick Cross up from physical therapy that afternoon, and he’s grinning like a loon. “How was PT, big man?”
He gets in the car, his smile stretching from ear to ear. “I got the all clear. I’m going to be back on the ice for the season opener tomorrow night.”
My heart soars, then sinks.
Game one.
He’s going to play in the game against Pittsburgh.
The game against Keith.
He’s dropped it since our fight Sunday night, but we both know what this means.
“That’s fantastic, Wilder,” I tell him with my best cheerleady excitement. “Please be careful though. I like your brain the way it is.”
“You think you might want to come?” he asks, but even without the lack of enthusiasm, I’m sure he knows there’s no way I’m going. Not tothat gamein particular.
“I’d rather not. Maybe another game,” I offer as we head back to the house. “But I’ll watch it on TV.”
“Yeah?” He sounds hopeful, and I feel like an asshole. But it’s the best I can do.
“Yeah. I’ll see if any of the girls are around. I know Lindy’s going to the game, but the others might not be. Or maybe I’ll watch it with my mom. She’s always looking for an excuse to spend time together.”
“You’re going to be okay, baby,” he tells me soothingly.
“I know. Want to hear about the new shop?” I ask, changing the subject to a topic that doesn’t make me want to puke.
“Do you have a name for it yet?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
“You could make it Everly Amelia. Do the whole two-name thing. Like Ralph Lauren or Donna Karen.”
“I’m impressed you even know who either of those designers are.” I mean, my man wears clothes well. But he doesn’t know anything at all about fashion.
“I pay attention.” When I cock my head his way, he laughs. “I pay attention to you. Not to fashion.”
“I love you, baby,” I giggle as we turn into the driveway.
“Hey. What’s Gracie doing here?” I hop out of the car and look at hers sitting in the driveway.
