Page 39 of Soulmates and Slapshots
And just like that, we head toward Maple Falls’ most upscale restaurant on a real date. Something I didn’t think I would be doing during my visit.
Ah, I absolutely adore the Glass Olive. It reminds me of a quaint little place you’d find on Mulberry Street in Little Italy. It’s a dimly lit, small space making it the perfect setting for an intimate dinner. The air is filled with a blend of garlic and oregano making my mouth water as soon as we walk inside.
The hostess leads us to a corner table and hands us menus and a wine list. Within seconds our server appears with a glass carafe of water and a basket of bread. We order our drinks and the bruschetta appetizer. Weston holds the breadbasket up to me, and I unwrap the hot, fresh Italian bread. And the best part is the butter is soft and perfect.
“I’m already impressed,” I exclaim.
“Because of the butter?” he adds knowingly.
“Yes,” I exclaim.
He laughs before tearing off a piece of bread.
“So how’s it going?” I ask. I don’t mention the loss against the Barracudas, but that’s what I’m referring to.
He lets out a heavy sigh. “It’s fine. Practice wasn’t fun today.”
I cringe. “I can imagine. What happens after a loss? Does the coach yell? Do you have to do extra pushups?”
I’m more curious about the behind-the-scenes stuff than I expected.
“No extra pushups, but Coach has plenty to say. We review the game and discuss ways we can improve. But we also go over the things we did well so it’s not all negative. It’s a long process, but it’s part of the job.”
I nod. “It seems like a lot of pressure with all these people counting on you.”
“It can be—especially when you’re trying to prove yourself with a new team. We all want to make a big play and leave our mark,” he says. “Especially me.”
I give him a curious look. “I’m sure you’ve already done that. You play professional hockey.”
He shrugs. “I’m trying. It’s very important to me to prove myself as an asset to the team. I feel like it’s something I’ve been trying to achieve most of my career. Being transferred to the Ice Breakers is a fresh opportunity for me.”
I appreciate how honest Weston is. In my last relationship, I always felt like I was forcing Joshua to talk to me about things. It took a while, but even then, there was always some distance, like an invisible wall that he never completely let down.
“Are you worried about the team being in jeopardy? Who knows what could happen if that MacDonald guy is able to claim all the land. What if he wants to tear down the arena?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Hopefully he’s a hockey fan.”
“Good point.”
Our server arrives and tells us about the specials. Everything sounds fantastic, but I finally decide on the chicken Alfredo, and Weston chooses the filet.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” Weston says after the server leaves. “If you let me try the chicken, I’ll share my filet.”
“Hmm…twist my arm,” I exclaim.
Our conversation continues without missing a beat. He tells me about his family. His parents are living the retired life in South Florida, and they are very supportive of his career, traveling to see his games as much as possible.
“My parents are in Massachusetts,” I tell him. “My mom still does hair, and my dad has his own accounting firm.”
“Are you close to them?” he asks.
“Yes. I’ve just always been very independent. I wanted to move to New York City, so I did.”
He nods slowly. “You’re probably missing all the action of the city by now.”
I purse my lips. “Honestly, I’m not.”
“Really?” he asks.
