Page 52 of Before We Came

“It’s okay. I get it. It’s part of your life. You don’t have to apologize.” I wait for the other shoe to drop. “But I think we should remain friends for now.”

Goddamn it.

“No, it’s not like that. That’s not my life anymore.”

“I believe you, really, I do. But it’s a weird time for me, and I don’t want to complicate things between us, especially since we’re living together. I’m sorry if I led you on. I shouldn’t have let it go that far.”

She’s lying. She can’t even bring herself to look me in the eye when she says it. Why is she giving up on us so easily? I hold up my arm and lean against the top of the doorframe to restrain some of my anger.

“Nuh-uh. You don’t get to lie to me,” I sneer. “I know you felt the same connection I did, we both were into that!” I point toward the living room.

“I’m, uh, I’m going to go to bed. I’ve got that appointment with the team nutritionist tomorrow, so I need to get some rest.”

I grip the trim over the door, and I want to rip it off. Instead, I look down at her and search her eyes for confirmation that I’m right.

“Good night, Lonan.”

“This isn’t over yet,” I assure her as she gently snicks the door closed.

I want to shove my fist through a wall. There’s no one to blame but myself. This is payback for sleeping around—bad karma. I need to regain her trust before she decides to leave again, because when our lips first touched at the hotel—and then again tonight—it was like everything snapped into place. She’s it for me.

TWENTY

Well, last night was fun. That woman was so drop-dead gorgeous she didn’t even look real. Is that what he goes for? I suppose those are the women that athletes and men like Lonan are used to. There is no way I can keep up with that. And she probably feels the same way I do about Lonan—who wouldn’t? He’s incredible. He’s charming, funny, kind, brings his niece gifts, and is so fucking sexy I almost came from our little dry-hump session last night. Kissing him is an experience in itself. I need to shake off this crush and stay in my lane. It’s not that I don’t think I’m attractive, I do, but he lives in a different world, a world I know nothing about.

In some ways, it was for the best. Talk about post-nut clarity—or rather, pre-nut clarity. I should have gotten myself off before falling asleep last night, but I was too bummed to do anything about it. Seeing her walk in like sex on heels while I sat in jeans, a tee, and a slouchy cardigan was humiliating. No idea who she was, but I could tell Lonan was caught off guard as much as I was. I believe him when he says he’s not interested in her anymore, but the whole thing has me rattled. It feels like a sign that I need to just focus on where I’m at right now. Shit, he’s technically my boss, after all. And my roommate. And the only person I know from my old life. It’s like a bad romance novel.

I pull up to the Lakes arena and meet the team nutritionist, Nate, at the security gate. I’m thankful he’s the only person standing there, because my thoughts about Lonan have been so distracting, I accidentally left my phone in the Land Rover. He leads me back to the team offices, and we sit in one of the conference rooms. He introduces himself again and then we delve into it. We go over so many numbers it makes my head spin. Lonan’s workout, his schedules, dryland training, on-ice training, macros, calorie intake, calorie burn. He hands off the dietary plans he’s designed for him, and from what I can tell, Lonan’s never actually followed any of them. Nate is thorough. We go on about how the team is doing this season, his history with the team, my background in cooking—casual small talk. It’s pleasant. After wrapping up, he walks me to the exit.

“Hey, so, this is probably really unprofessional, but would you want to grab a drink some time?”

He’s attractive, but in a different way than Lonan. Nate looks like he grew up in a yacht club. He’s WASP-y, probably pledged to a fraternity in college and golfs on the weekends. But that might be exacerbated by his collared polo. We’ve had a good conversation; he’s a bit arrogant, but it’s delightful to know somebody that doesn’t know me first. It puts us on an even keel. He’s more my speed, and I probably don’t have to worry about puck bunnies as much.

Some no-strings-attached fun might be good for me right now. At the very least, it would be a distraction and might help dissipate the sexual energy between Lonan and me. It’s just one drink.

“Possibly.”

“Let me give you my number.”

I reach to pull out my phone and remember I left it in the car. Shit, I don’t know the phone number yet. I got a burner phone at the airport to avoid all the roaming charges while I’m here.

“I’ll write it down for you,” he says, scribbling on the corner of my legal pad. “Old-school style.”

He waves me off, and I head back to the Rover. When I look at the notebook, it reads:

Love your laugh: 612-555-6734

-Nate

It’s sweet. I really needed that ego boost after last night. Well done, Nate.

Me: Hey, it’s Birdie.

Nate: Hey Birdie, it’s Nate.

Me: Charming.

Nate: I know you are, but what am I?

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