“I’m surprised to have run into you again so soon,” she quips. “So. Is Greta also a surprise?”
Rolling my eyes, I slip my body into a standing hamstring stretch. “Greta is someone I once kinda dated. Things ended, I thought amicably, but apparently she doesn’t feel the same way.”
She cocks her head to the side. “And she’s making your life hard right now?”
“She’s a sports reporter who has the power of the internet and social media behind her.”
“Ahhh. So she’s enjoying the fact you’re a man without a team right now and seen as a wild card?”
“That’s putting it lightly, but yeah. She’s enjoying it because it gets her headlines.”
“And you didn’t do anything to make her mad when you broke up?”
“I thought I handled it all the best way I could. I took her out for dinner…”
Riley’s face scrunches. “Ohhhh. Please don’t tell me you did it in public.”
“I mean, the conversation leaned that way at dinner, so I went with it.”
“You took her out to eat, and without warning you broke things off in a public setting so she had to hold it all in—if she held it all in, that is—until you left and were somewhere more private to talk, then?”
“I mean…” I’m finding it somewhat comical that I’m having to explain this right now. “I was coming from practice and she was coming from work, so we met at the restaurant.”
“You may be emotionally stunted.” Riley’s face is serious as she threads her arms tightly in front of her chest. “You didn’t even drive her home after or offer to talk further, did you?”
“Well…” I search my brain for an answer, any kind that won’t make me sound as much of a buffoon as it does now, but I’ve got nothing. In less than two minutes, this new-to-me woman has shown me the mirror and pointed out where I went wrong. “Yeah, no. I thought we were good when we left. I paid the bill and we hugged outside, and that was that.”
“Oh, man. And she’s a reporter?” Riley does a tsk tsk as she shakes her head. “I’ve been around my brother long enough to know that there’s optics to consider in every part of what you do once you’re playing at a certain level, Jake. But you went and dated a sports reporter and then you broke up with her in public? Ohhhh, poor you. She’s gonna want revenge for sure.”
“You’re not helping,” I mutter as I start to stretch my other leg. But she’s got a point.
“Sorry. I’ll drop it. No more Greta speak. We’ll call her Voldemort, okay?”
This woman has dropped a Harry Potter reference and I’m here for it. “Deal.”
Riley, whose arms had been crossed tightly in front of her, lets them drop to her side. Turning at the waist, she points behind her to the coffee cart. “Want to have a coffee with me? My treat.”
I look at the cart, then back to Riley. I could say no. Go on my way, keep running, and then go to the rink to practice like I was planning. I could do that and then go back to thinking about my mistakes, the choices I’ve made, and where I’m at now and probably continue to beat myself up some more. I’ll end up back at home, well, Riley’s home in her old bedroom, holding my dog and wondering where I went wrong. So of course I’m going to say yes.
“Love to.” I hold my hand out. “Lead the way.”
As we approach the cart, the older man running it appears in the window with a huge grin sweeping across his face, showing all of his teeth.
“Riley. You’re still here?”
“Yes, Sam, and we need the things.”
Sam laughs, loud and deep. The man looks like he’s related to Santa Claus.
“How about my famous Moroccan mint lattes for both of you? I can also highly recommend these amazing croissants we have in stock this morning.”
Riley nods. “Put ‘em on my tab, Sam.”
“You got it, Riley. Oh, and I’ll make sure to get you or Frannie that gift voucher for her giveaway. It’s nice what you’re trying to do. That organization needs all the help it can get.”
“Thanks, Sam, she’ll appreciate it.” Riley turns back to me, finding me staring at her quizzically. “What?”
“Giveaway?”
