Chapter 2 #2
Frasier gave me the strangest look. But before I could even try to decipher it, his expression shifted to something more neutral. “As you said, it’s only for a handful of days. How bad could it be?”
“You did what?” Georgia shrieked from the other side of the clothes rack.
She was helping me shop for my upcoming trip to Anguilla. And since it was a destination wedding, my sister had decided to cram everything into a five-day span. Bachelorette party. Rehearsal dinner. Wedding. It was going to be a lot, but at least Frasier would be there with me.
I glanced around the store and then glared at her over the top of the rack. “Jeez. Keep it down. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” She scoffed, wide amber eyes meeting mine as she joined me on my side. “Sweetie.” She patted my arm. “You asked Frasier to be your date to your sister’s destination wedding. On a romantic island.” She held my gaze as if waiting for me to connect the dots.
“No. He offered to be my plus-one,” I clarified, thinking there were no dots to be connected.
“But your family thinks you’re dating.”
“Right,” I said. “Well, just my sister. And I swore her to secrecy.”
“Mm-hmm.” Georgia threaded her hand through her strawberry-blond tresses.
In the years I’d known her, she’d been a platinum blonde, a redhead, and now she’d gone strawberry-blond.
She was always changing her look, like a chameleon who jumped from one thing to another just so they could experience a new color.
“She’s not going to tell.” She better not. “I gave her some very compelling reasons to keep her mouth shut.”
“You blackmailed her?” Georgia arched one eyebrow.
“No.” I laughed, though that wasn’t a terrible idea. “I may have used some emotional guilt to persuade her.”
Georgia laughed. “Bryn!” She held a hand to her chest. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“There’s gotta be some benefit to your husband dying,” I joked. Georgia didn’t even bat an eye. She knew that morbid humor could be part of the healing process, at least for me.
“And Frasier?” she asked. “What did he say when you told him your sister thinks the two of you are together?”
“I…might have left that part out.”
Her eyes bulged out of her head like one of those squeezy toys the dogs loved. “He doesn’t know?”
I shook my head. “And he doesn’t need to.”
She furrowed her brow. “Won’t he think it’s odd when you’re suddenly more affectionate?”
I lifted a shoulder, hoping she didn’t see straight through my nonchalant attitude. “I told my sister it was new, and we were keeping it quiet. So I don’t think she’ll be surprised by the lack of PDA.”
“Mm,” was all Georgia said.
“Yeah. Okay. It’s not the perfect plan, but it’ll be fine.”
“I get why you lied to your sister. But are you sure you should leave Frasier in the dark?”
“I don’t want to complicate things.”
She barked out a laugh. “Not complicate things. Yeah. Right.”
“Come on,” I said. “You know if I told him the truth, he would’ve felt obligated to go with me.”
“When it comes to you, I’m pretty sure that man would say yes to anything.”
That wasn’t true, was it? But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that Frasier would do anything for me. And I would do anything for him. Because we were friends.
Georgia and I continued perusing the clothing racks, and I hoped that was the end of it.
“At least you picked a good one for your first—and hopefully only—fake relationship since Derek.”
I laughed, feeling lighter. “Fake, one-sided relationship. Do you think I’m pathetic?”
“No.” Her tone was firm. “I think you did what you had to do to protect yourself.” My shoulders relaxed. “And I’m sure Frasier would understand if you told him.”
Was that a not-so-subtle push to fess up?
I hung my head. “I’m sure you’re right, but he’s already doing so much for me. I just need to tell Allie the truth.” I straightened, resolved. “I will tell Allie the truth.” Before this gets even more out of hand.
“Sometimes I still don’t understand how Frasier’s single. You’ve seen what he looks like under the mountain-man aesthetic he’s currently sporting, right?” she asked. “Because I have. And Frasier is a total hottie.”
My sternum burned, and I wondered if you could get heartburn from oatmeal with a banana. I pressed my lips flat.
I had no reason to be jealous. Not that I was.
Georgia was the team’s official hair stylist, and she sometimes traveled with the Hawks to away games.
Considering how much she loved to change her own color and style, it surprised me that she’d taken a job cutting men’s hair.
But she often used the off-season to take on other clients.
“I’ve known him since college, remember?” I’d watched him grow into the man he was today. “And besides, I thought you weren’t into hockey players.”
She wasn’t interested in Frasier; I knew that. But her words had certainly provoked a strong reaction in me.
“I’m not,” she said in a firm tone. “And even if I were, my brother would never allow it.”
One of Georgia’s older brothers, Daniel, was the general manager for the Hawks, one of the youngest in the league. Overprotective. A tad overbearing. A shark in business, but a softy when it came to his sister.
“So you’re not attracted to him. Like, at all?” Georgia asked as I looked through the dress options.
I kept my eyes firmly trained on the dresses in front of me. “He’s an attractive man. Objectively speaking,” I added.
Who was I kidding? Frasier was hot.
“I know he’s attractive.” She wagged her finger at me. “The entire world can see how attractive he is. But I asked if you were attracted to him.”
I shrugged, returning my attention to the clothes and hoping Georgia would do the same. But I could feel her watching me, practically bursting.
“Come on,” I huffed. “Out with it. I know you want to say something.” I knew Georgia well enough to suspect she had something on her mind.
“You know why your sister didn’t question this surprise relationship with Frasier, right?” she asked.
“Because she wants it to be real.”
“Maybe, but you and Frasier have good chem. Are you sure you both want to be just friends?” Her amber eyes bored into mine.
Good chem. That was such a hockey thing to say. The guys were always talking about which defensive and offensive pairs had good chem.
But when it came to Frasier, I didn’t know what to think anymore. He didn’t date. And after our conversation the other night, I knew he wasn’t hooking up with anyone. But then I thought back on his comment—asking if I was offering to hook up with him. It made me wonder… Was he attracted to me?
And it wasn’t just that. There were little moments when I’d catch him staring at me, or he’d let his touch linger. Anytime we watched TV, he’d place his arm around me, letting me cuddle into his side. Because we were friends, right?
Instead of answering Georgia’s question—because I couldn’t—I tried to deflect with humor. “We’re not hockey players.” I draped a black dress over my arm, adding to my pile of things to try on.
“No, but I’m sure he’d be happy to body check you.” She grinned, removing the black dress I’d just selected and replacing it with another, more colorful one.
I pulled a face at her cheesy pun.
She laughed, not at all bothered. Then her expression turned more serious as she placed her hand on my arm. “Hockey jokes aside, you and Frasier are good together.”
“Yeah. As friends.”
“Oh, come on, Bryn.” Her eyes danced with mischief. “I see the way he looks at you, and it’s not like a friend.”
I opened my mouth, ready to argue. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before. Everyone was always trying to read more into Frasier’s and my friendship than there was. Teammates. Family members. Friends. The internet.
“Stop shipping us,” I teased.
I may have stopped wearing my wedding ring, but I was still very committed to my husband. I’d planned to spend the rest of my life with him, and just because his life had been cut short didn’t mean my love ended.
Georgia watched me, giving me a cryptic smile. “You know it would be okay if you weren’t just friends, though, right?”
“I—” I cleared my throat and glanced at the floor. I wasn’t so sure about that. “I just don’t see that happening.”
“Why not?” Her tone was laced with curiosity and free of judgment.
I sighed, a million reasons racing through my mind.
Derek, for starters. What the hell would he think? What would his parents think? This wasn’t just me dating another man—it was Derek’s best friend.
And even if you ignored all that, I wasn’t sure Frasier was interested. I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to go there. What if Frasier and I tried to be something more, and it made everything awkward? What if I screwed up one of the most important relationships in my life?
Ultimately, I shook my head.
“Because you’re not ready to date anyone? Or because you’re not interested in Frasier?”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to date someone, but also…” I swallowed hard around the boulder lodged in my throat. I didn’t even know how to say it.
“You still have needs,” Georgia offered.
“I, um… Yeah,” I said, grateful that she understood.
God, it felt good to admit that. Freeing.
I didn’t just miss my husband, I missed being held. Touched. I missed sex.
Georgia wrapped her arm around me, hugging me tight. “Of course you do.”
I released a heavy sigh, giving her a quick squeeze in return. “Thanks for always understanding.”
Georgia—like Frasier and my other best friend, Logan—had been my rock. I’d had to survive one of the most painful life experiences in a very public way, and she’d been there for me every step of the way.
When I’d been living in a haze of shock and grief, she’d whipped into action.
She’d fixed my hair and makeup many times, making sure I looked fabulous even when I was falling apart.
And she’d stood by my side at his funeral, at the tribute games, holding my hand when I needed extra support.
The games had been deeply moving and beautiful but also profoundly painful.
For now, I mostly preferred to watch the games on TV from the privacy of my living room, cuddling with Bacon and Biscuit while Georgia did her nails and Logan yelled at the screen, at least when she wasn’t playing herself in the PWHL for Minnesota.
Sometimes Kylie joined us. Georgia had recommended that I reach out to her to help me with PR after Derek’s death, and Kylie and I had since become close friends.
Sitting in the WAGs suite with the other wives, girlfriends, and partners was…unthinkable. And even though everyone had been nice, I felt “other” somehow since losing Derek. I wasn’t a wife; I was a widow. It was a completely different club—and one I’d never wanted to be a part of.
“Hey,” Georgia said, placing her hand on my arm. I startled from the contact. “You okay?”
“Honestly?” I swallowed back the emotions, willing the tears away. “No. But I don’t really want to talk about it either.”
Crying wouldn’t change anything. Nothing would bring back Derek or the dreams we’d shared for the future.
No one knew that Derek and I had been trying to conceive when he’d died, not even my closest friends. And now, it would never happen.
Georgia’s frown deepened. “You sure?”
“I’m sure,” I said, eager to move on. I was twenty-seven, and I’d already found and lost the love of my life. It was…a lot.
“You know I’m always here if you want to talk.” She hugged me. “Or not talk.”
“I know. And thank you. I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.”
She released me, and I gestured to the dresses draped over my arm. “I’m going to try these on.”
She trailed me to the fitting room, taking the one next to mine. We were quiet apart from the rustle of fabric as we changed. I ruled the first dress out before I’d even zipped it up all the way. My body had changed, and I was still getting used to what looked good on me now. What fit my life now.
The next one was definitely better. It was the dress Georgia had picked.
“What do you think?” The fabric flowed around my legs as I stepped into the hallway. It was beachy, and I already felt like I was on vacation.
Georgia pulled her curtain aside. “Love it. That color is great on you, just as I knew it would be.”
“Thanks.” I grinned. “I like that on you too,” I said, admiring the pink jumpsuit she was wearing.
She grabbed another dress from a nearby rack. “Try this one next.”
I jerked my head back. It was gorgeous, colorful and flowy, but also…sexy.
“Really?” I asked, studying the low neckline. Lower than anything I’d worn in a while, though I mostly lived in scrubs or yoga pants these days.
“Yes, girl.” She handed it to me before shoving me back toward the fitting rooms. “Be colorful. Live life. Have fun.”
That used to be me. Colorful. Carefree.
As I stared at myself in the mirror, the dress held up to my front, I realized that I wanted to be that girl again.