Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
DELANEY
This is dangerous.
The closer and closer we get to the hotel, the harder it is to breathe. I keep thinking about Lydia. Teeth sinking into her bottom lip. What she would taste like. What she’d feel like.
Would it be as good as I remember? Or better?
By the time our car is pulling up to the roundabout entrance of the luxury hotel, the salty sea air is a reprieve to my overly taxed nerves.
Palm trees sway in the distance as a cool breeze blows through. It’s just what I need on my warm skin.
“Want to drop our bags off and then meet down in the lobby for dinner?” Lydia asks, an easy smile on her face.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I heft my bag onto my shoulder and take my wheeled bag from the valet. I nod in thanks.
“You have to eat, D. It’s just a meal.”
I stop, pointing a finger at her. “I will only eat with you if you don’t call me D.”
She smirks. “Okay, Delaney.”
“Better.” I fight the smile. “Let’s check in and I’ll text you.”
“You better.”
The check-in line is nonexistent as the two of us each step up to an awaiting employee to get our keys and quickly head to the elevator. I get off on the fifth floor while Lydia takes it up to the seventh.
Finally.
Finally I can breathe Lydia-free air. Free from that sweet vanilla scent. Swiping my key card over the reader, I push open the door.
Wow.
This is better than I imagined. A small sitting area welcomes me. A hallway to the right leads off to the bathroom and bedroom. The floor-to-ceiling windows look out over the water. Dropping my bags, I walk into the bedroom. A patio offers views of the pool deck below.
A gift basket sits on the bed. Grabbing the card, I read the handwritten note.
Miss Charles,
Please enjoy your stay at the Miami Grand Luxe Hotel. Should you require anything, please do not hesitate to reach out to us.
Enjoy!
The Staff at the Miami Grand Luxe
I can’t remember the last time I’ve stayed anywhere so…fancy. Traveling with hockey teams is a lot of buses and budget hotels. A few days out of the cold in Toronto?
I can handle this.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Lydia
Are you coming?
Say no, Delaney. Say no. It’s the responsible thing to do. Don’t get swept up in the idea of Lydia. The Rosebuds are the most important thing.
Not Lydia. No matter how important she was to you at one point.
Delaney
Coming down now
Damn it. My fingers respond before I can stop them.
Great. I’ve got a table for us and ordered a round of drinks
Well, so much for doing the responsible thing.
She’s my player. I’m her coach. That’s it. That’s all. We can share a meal together and it not mean anything more than that.
Grabbing my room key from the foyer desk and a light jacket in case the air conditioning is blasting in the restaurant, I run my fingers through my hair and head down.
The hotel is buzzing with people. Some are coming back from the pool, skin pink from the sun.
Others are dressed to the nines, ready for a night out on South Beach.
I follow the signs to the restaurant, and when I get there, I am not prepared for what is waiting for me.
Fuck. Me.
Lydia is at a table right in the front. She looks stunning in a black dress with thin straps. Her blonde hair is braided over one shoulder and a smile paints her face.
I didn’t give a second thought to changing. At this point, the more clothed I am, the better.
“I’m glad you didn’t stand me up,” Lydia says as I take my seat across from her.
“Like you said, it’s just a meal.”
I grab my napkin and lay it across my lap.
“Tell me about the player you’re scouting. That’s nice dinner conversation.”
I smile, grabbing a roll from the basket and dragging it through the oil. The taste of herbs bursts on my tongue. Delicious.
“She’s probably the most sought after player at the collegiate level. Could be the next Lydia Bishop.”
“Hey. There is only one Lydia Bishop.”
“I said could be. We’ll see. Good, raw talent, but needs a good coach to help her harness it.”
Lydia holds her glass up and I clink mine against hers. “Then let’s hope she comes to the Rosebuds. I’d say we have a pretty good coach.”
“Stop it.”
“What?” She shrugs. “I’m stating the obvious.”
“You don’t have to kiss my ass.” I roll my eyes at her as our waiter comes by.
“Good evening, ladies. Have you had a chance to look at the menu?”
“I’ll have the salmon salad,” Lydia says.
“Umm.” I grab the menu and give it a quick scan. “I’ll do the Greek orzo bowl, please.”
“Excellent choices.”
He leaves the two of us alone. It’s still early, the restaurant filling up around us. Tables are crammed together in the space.
As people take the seats around us, my nerves unfurl.
There is nothing remotely sexy about a dinner with strangers sitting on either side of you.
“Are you excited for your big shoot tomorrow?” I ask.
“Yes, but nervous.”
“Why? You’re going to be a natural.”
She drinks from her water glass. “It’s the first time I’m going to be doing anything like this.”
“Picture it like doing postgame interviews. The press love you. It’ll be easy.”
“The press are easy,” she tells me. “Talking about hockey? That’s easy. What if I don’t know how to pose? Or if all the photos look terrible?”
“Lydia. You are going to look incredible. They wouldn’t have chosen you if they didn’t want you. Tell the photographer how you’re feeling tomorrow.”
“You think so?”
I nod, taking another bite of bread, swallowing before continuing. “You said this is a woman-owned company?”
“Yes.”
“Then I have no doubt that she’ll be some badass woman who will put you at ease within five minutes.”
A slow smile spreads across her mouth. “Thanks, Delaney.”
I don’t miss the way she says my name. Not my nickname.
See? This is good. You can handle this.
“It’s nice to see you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Nervous. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this. Not even the night before our first game with the women’s national team.”
“I do get nervous,” she points out. “I just don’t show it to everyone.”
Our meals are set down in front of us and we say our thanks to the server.
“Enjoy. Please let me know if you need anything else.”
“It looks great. Thank you.”
“It smells delicious.” Lydia breathes in her salad, a piece of pink salmon on a bed of greens with oranges around it.
Blackened chicken sits on top of the orzo, with olives and tomatoes mixed in with feta crumbles on top.
An easy silence settles between the two of us as we dive into our meals.
“Excuse me.” A little girl comes up to us, a nervous grin on her face. “Are you Lydia Bishop?”
Lydia sets her fork down and scoots closer to her. “I am. What’s your name?”
“I’m Emma and I’m your biggest fan. I love hockey.”
An older woman stands behind the little girl. Lydia smiles and says, “Me too. Do you play?”
She nods, curls bobbing. “I want to be a hockey player just like you.”
“Hopefully you’ll be even better if you work really hard, okay?” She nods. “Do you want a picture and an autograph?”
“Yes, please.”
She moves in and her mom snaps a picture as Lydia signs the piece of paper with the hotel logo on it.
“Thank you so much. She spotted you walk in and wanted to come say hi. The Rosebuds are her favorite team.”
“I’m so glad you did. Keep up the hard work, Emma,” Lydia tells her.
“I will. Thank you!”
She waves as she heads off with her mom.
“How cute was she?” Lydia gushes. “That makes me so excited for when my niece is born.”
“Your brother is having a baby?” I ask.
“Yes. I cannot wait to be Aunt Lydia. That girl is going to be so spoiled. And I can’t wait to play hockey with her.”
I laugh. “Are you going to be able to teach her before your brother does?”
“Probably not. But she’ll have plenty of people around her to encourage her.”
“You say that like you didn’t have people encouraging you.” I take another bite of my dinner.
“I wish my dad was more supportive. I’d love to be able to share all of this with him.”
“Was he ever supportive?”
She shrugs. “Yes and no. When I was little and playing peewee, it was fine. But once I got better and had a chance to play in college, it didn’t work with his schedule. He came to a few games here and there, but it fizzled out in college.”
“That has to be hard.”
“I wish I didn’t care.”
I want to reach out and take her hand, but I can’t. “It’s only natural to want him to care. Especially when you’re going to be the greatest player ever for the PWHL.”
“Damn right.” The sadness in her voice washes away. “And I’ll have the rest of my family cheering me on. Including my new niece.”
“Exactly.”
A picture of Lydia and me teaching our kids to play hockey flares to life in my mind. It’s so real, so visceral, it’s like it’s already happened. As if it’s a memory.
As quick as it comes, it goes. Leaving a sadness in its wake. We won’t be able to have that. Not with the positions we’re in now.
“You okay?” Lydia asks.
“Just tired is all.” I look down at my bowl, no longer hungry. “I might call it a night.”
“Oh, okay. Do you want me to head up with you?”
“No. That’s okay.” I wipe my mouth and set the napkin down. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?”
She gives me a wry smile. “Have a good night.”
I leave the restaurant like my ass is on fire. The elevator feels endlessly slow as I wait for it in the lobby. I’m running away like a coward. I have to be around Lydia and have to figure out how to deal with the feelings. Maybe writing them down will help.
As the elevator dings, I step out and walk to my room. With too many thoughts filling my head, I need to get them out. Swiping myself into the room, I grab a pad of paper and a pen.
I have never once stopped thinking about you since I got injured. I wish I could, but I can’t. You’re the one that got away and it’s hard to be around you because I remember what we had. What we can’t have now.
But God, if I don’t want to kiss you. Want to throw you up against a wall and kiss you senseless. Relearn what you like. What makes you sing.
I want all of it with you.
Even if we can’t have it.
I scribble it all out, ripping it from the pad and stuffing it in my jacket pocket. There are some things Lydia doesn’t need to know.
And how I’m feeling is at the top of the list.