Page 26 of My Wife
“Have you seen the team roster? Obviously, I’m biased because Pierre is a dreamboat.”
I recall Badaszek’s disdain for The Frenchman, now known as Cara’s husband, who was previously highly sought after by female hockey fans.
“My dad is super strict about casual hookups because they can cause drama and interfere with the players’ focus. He wants marriageable men. Suffice it to say, Ellis is as handsome as they come. Last season, there was a contest on social to see who could reel him in. The entries targeting him were wild and wacky. I don’t think he looked at a single one.”
“So who won?”
“Nobody. He doesn’t date. There’s no female main character in his life. No love interest,” she says with a wistful shake of her head.
“I get the picture.”
“Sorry, I’ve been preparing for Gracie’s book club meeting at Once Upon a Romance next week. But Ellis is unapproachable. They call him The Beast. He’s married to the game.”
Thinking about the broad-shouldered and well-built guy at the bakery, I murmur, “Seems like this place is infested with beasts.”
She continues, “I think right now, some of his responsibilities are demanding his attention, so he needs a helping hand. I’ll run it by my father, but he won’t say no, aware as he is of the power of a good assistant.”
“Cara, I don’t want to impose.” Or be a charity case. I have a lifetime of experience with that already.
“You could be his assistant or we have an opening in locker room sanitation.” She taps her chin.
“Clean the locker room?”
She waggles her eyebrows as if in any world cleaning up after stinky athletes would be appealing.
“I’ll take my chances as an assistant, even though I have no idea what to do.”
“Just think of it as a lot of adulting. Making appointments, grocery shopping, doing life, but with a professional athlete so there will also be public appearances, engagements?—”
Given my recent attire, I blanch. “Like marriage?”
She chuckles. “No. He’s not the type. More like product endorsement shoots and luncheons—he begrudgingly does team events and community outreach. Not exactly the poster child for the Knights. There’d likely be a lot of scheduling … and coaxing.”
Actually, I’m good at that. I’m serious about organization and have an obsession with planners, stickers, and pens. I live and die by my bullet journal to keep everything from my daily tasks to my big goals and dreams to be an actress structured and productive. I have lists and trackers for everything including how much water I drink each day, my weekly exercise routines, and reading lists. Of course, each has a dedicated sticker and color system for a visual reminder of my achievements. It’s a little way to pat myself on the back because it’s not like anyone else will, maybe except Grandma Dolly, though she’s more inclined to give enthusiastic jazz hands and cookie prizes.
I never thought of it before, but it’s almost like I was made for a job like this.
“Speaking of being an assistant, I have to get back to work. Big game later.”
“Grandma Dolly and I will be watching, in our matching Knights merch, under a Knights branded fleece blanket.”
“Is she still making those?”
“Every year for Christmas, at least four people get cozy with the giant heads of the players plastered on the fabric.” I’d hate to doze off and have Mr. Meanie’s mug staring at me.
“We should hire her to supply the merchandise booth. I bet fans would love them, especially since it’s chilly in the rink.”
“She’d be thrilled, but let’s take it one step at a time and see if I survive being a personal assistant first.”
Cara bounces on her toes. “It’s going to be great.” Then she goes still.
“What?”
“Well, be warned, he can be a bit moody.”
The gown rustles as I gather it in my arms. “Moldy?”
“Broody.”
