Page 52 of Let It Be Me
Emmy-Lou: Wish I could but I’m teaching.
Jax: I’m in the editing cave.
Kamryn: Sarah?
*twenty minutes later*
Kamryn: Is her radio silence concerning?
Jax: Maybe she’s in meetings?
Kamryn: Maybe?
Emmy-Lou: Rain check on the coffee.
Me: I was in a migraine cave all day.
Kamryn: Did you use your headache cap?
Me: No. I just slept all day…
Emmy-Lou: What’s with the … ?
Me: I have good news.
Jax: Do tell!
Emmy-Lou: Spill it
Kamryn: Don’t edge us!
Me: Riley and I are dating.
Emojis fill their responses along with “I knew it!” to “We can’t wait to meet him”
I let them know I want them to meet him soon and then place my phone back on the nightstand. Flipping the covers off, I change out of yesterday's lounge clothes and slide on a new pair of sweatpants and a new sweatshirt with a pair of fuzzy socks and head downstairs. The low hum of the TV greets me when I reach downstairs, followed by the sizzling sound of bacon as the salty aroma fills my nostrils. I lean against the wall furthest from the kitchen and watch as Riley commands the space like I’m sure he does on the ice. His broad shoulders flex as he does something on the stove and just seeing the controlled strength is close to making me drool.
While I should definitely not combust over someone younger than me, Riley holds himself in a way none of the guys my age did back then. And getting a front row seat to the guy who made headlines months ago shows me that he’s like an onion. I’m finding that with every new layer he exposes, I like. I’m finding that every new layer I’m introduced to, is protected until it’s ready to peel. Does focusing on his age say more about me, than him? Yes. But I’m slowly working through that and realizing that I won’t care about his age much longer.
“It smells good in here.” I say as I push off the wall andmake my presence known. He looks over his shoulder at my approach and I don’t miss the appreciative stare from him that lights up my body even in an oversized sweatpants and sweatshirt combination. One thing he never fails to make me do is feel appreciated for the way I look.
“It’s just about done if you want to have a seat at the table.” He tells me as he flips the final piece of what looks like an egg white omelet.
Nodding, I silently move to the table and watch as he turns off the stove and plates our food. He must have brought a change of clothes as I’m noticing he’s in a pair of plaid drawstring pajama pants that mold to his thighs and pool around his feet. Riley takes the seat next to me and my stomach grumbles embarrassingly loud.
He places a kiss on my upturned cheek and then hands me one of the forks he was holding onto. “Eat up, Blue.”
I cut off a piece of omelet and blow it off before closing my lips around the fork. “I’m surprised your culinary skills haven’t locked anyone down yet.”
“I haven’t gotten that far in any relationship for my skills to lock them down.” Riley responds and takes a sip of water.
“Why not?”
“Most women are interested in a hockey player, which means quick money for them,” Riley tells me.
“And that’s not something you want.”
“Correct. I saw the love my parents had and the love Momma and Pops have. And I want that. I think I’ve always wanted it. But that’s not something guys admit. Let alone guys at my age,” Riley says.
