Page 58 of Pucked and Pregnant

Would it be career suicide to say anything else?

Yes.

Plus, it has the added bonus of making me look better than him because I am.

“This is something I never thought I’d have to say, but I am not, nor would I ever, have an affair with my brother. Which actually brings me to my first fun fact of the night. Max—who by the way has an average of 0.77 assists per game—knew he wanted to play hockey from an early age. He was so passionate about it, that he even named his favorite childhood teddy bear Gretzky. It’s been in his blood since day one. Alright, what other questions do you have for me?”

The rest of the conference goes surprisingly well. All of the questions are related to the overview of the data I gave atthe beginning, and the fun facts I sprinkle throughout are well received.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the wrap it up signal coming from the director so I start to wind things down.

“Last question. How about you?”

“Lewis Stevens,The Chronicle. Since this is the final question and you’re about to leave anyway… I know you aren’t now but would you ever date a hockey player?”

True to my word, I turn on my heel and exit the podium.

What an ass. I bet he’s one of those reporters that gets off on sneaking onto people’s property and pressing his camera up to their windows. He certainly looks slimy enough to do it.

I know it was unrealistic to expect that no one would try to broach the subject again, but things had been going so well I allowed myself to hope. Still, the fact that it went that well for nearly the entire press conference is a positive sign.

Maybe now that I’ve set the record straight, they’ll get bored and move on, especially after Max says his piece at the players’ press conference.

By the time I get back to my hotel room, all the adrenaline from facing the press has vacated my body. I’m suddenly hyper-aware of the stress-sweat in various areas of my body. My feet are super sore and I’m starving.

Did I eat today?

I’m so overwhelmed that I can’t think straight enough to problem solve. I find myself standing in the center of my room completely paralyzed.

Okay, it’s time for some yoga breathing.

I sift through my mental list of techniques I’ve learned from the few classes I’ve gone to. Just going through the list by itself takes some of the edge off.

I settle on Bhramari, the humming breath.That should work.

Once my mind is clear, I’ll be better equipped to start fixing my issues. I think of my immediate smallest problem, the one that is easiest to fix.

Taking off my shoes. I nearly cry in relief when my bare feet touch the carpet.

Next decision, bath or food?

I smell like a stadium but I’m so hungry that even the little decorative soaps look like an appealing snack.

Food it is.

I’m glad I saved the bath for last because there’s no way I would be able to appreciate it as much on an empty stomach.

The tub is glorious. It’s wide enough to fit quite a few people and deep enough that I might even be able to float in it.

That’s not all though. It’s Vegas, so there’s always that extra bit of razzle dazzle. In this case it’s color-changing LED lights and water jets, which may end up being used for a different type of relaxing once I feel clean.

I’m so close to paradise but as usual, the universe decides to punish me because the second my fingers brush the faucet knob, someone knocks on my door.

16

LIV

Unless it’s a surprise stripper-gram or some kind of complimentary dessert, I’m going to murder whoever keeps knocking at my door.

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