Page 126 of Any Second Now
“Because.” Lucy pulls out a bottle of red wine, examines the label, and then pulls out a corkscrew from a drawer. “I like having my own place. It’s one hundred percent me and I love it.”
“That’s true. It is adorable.” I watch Lucy twist the corkscrew into the bottle.
Lucy has a one-bedroom apartment in downtown Fort Collins. It’s not over the top as she pays for it with her salary working in PR for the Blizzard, but it’s bright and clean and decorated exactly for her personality.
“One day I’ll move in here with Kellen. But for now, I appreciate my independence.”
“And eventually you’ll give in to his requests to marry him?” Apparently it’s a regular topic of discussion, but Lucy wants more time to live on her own. I don’t blame her. Not after what her ex put her through.
“I mean, yeah.” She pops the cork out and grabs two stemless wine glasses. “And I can’t believe you chose your RV over staying here for the past month.”
“I love the Pink Palace.” My voice hitches at the end. At some point, Lucy had offered her boyfriend’s house after she realized I’d be in town for more than a few days, but I declined.
I also wanted to explore my independence and not rely on anyone but myself.
“Aw, you love the Pink Palace, huh.” Lucy slides a glass over to me and picks up her own. “To the Pink Palace, the ridiculous contraption which has served you well.”
Over the past few days I came to the conclusion that I need to sell the RV and just fly home. What’s the point in spending a week driving across the country when there’s another option? I don’t even enjoy driving that thing. It’s a lot of miles on the road to just put it up for sale back in Connecticut. In another universe, I might’ve liked being a passenger princess in the RV, but part of the reason I stayed so long in Fort Collins is because of how much I disliked driving that beast.
Part of the reason.
The other part of the reason causes me physical pain to think about.
“To the Pink Palace.” I clink Lucy’s glass and take a big sip of wine.
“This is from my mom’s vineyard,” she says after lowering her glass. “Kellen orders it by the case. I think he’s the only one.”
“Nope, so does Atticus. He told me about it when I first arrived.” Lucy and Atticus’s mom is so sweet and supportive and doesn’t pressure them to be a certain way. She certainly doesn’t give them life spreadsheets.
Maybe they don’t need them.
“I didn’t know that,” Lucy says.
Always drinking good wine is a benefit of dating a Blizzard player, I guess.
Not that Lucy is doing it for that benefit.
She’d love Kellen if he was unemployed and living in a cardboard box.
Just like I… shit, don’t even think it.
Too late. The thought’s already formed.
Just like I love Atticus.
I cannot stop thinking those words. It’s distracting, and unhelpful, and distressing.
I’m glad he’s out of town. I don’t know what I’d do if he were only a few miles away in his apartment. I don’t think I’d be able to stay away.
Because I really want to tell him how I feel.
I shouldn’t. I won’t. But I want to. It would make it harder for both of us, because it wouldn’t change anything.
After the game tonight, Kellen is flying back here on the Blizzard’s private plane. But Atticus and the other single guys—which is most of them at this point—are staying to hang out in NYC.
I don’t even want to think about what’s going to happen when a group of gorgeous hockey players descend on the city. The ideaof Atticus showing up with that slutty backwards hat and the touchable curls and forest green eyes… heat washes over me. He won’t even have to try. The women will inhale him.
Not that it’s any of my business.
