Chapter Twenty-Five
I love game nights during the MLS offseason.
Even more so now that I get to attend games as Aiden’s girlfriend, even if nobody knows it.
I take a sip of my matcha. Tonight I needed a pregame caffeine hit after a late night at Aiden’s.
It’s hard to believe it all wasn’t some weird fever dream, from the complete heartbreak of thinking I was ending things with Aiden to hearing him say he loved me and would sooner give up hockey than to quit loving me.
I have never felt more loved by anyone than I did Aiden last night—both emotionally and physically. I still can’t believe this man is actually mine.
I’m wrapped up in this happy thought as I head back through the basement concourse, surrounded by concrete and wrapped in cold air.
I’m still feeling the rush of watching warm-ups and taking a lot of pictures, of both Miami and Las Vegas players.
Yes, I get to do it as part of my job for Real Miami, but I want it to be my sole duty.
And I would love to do it for a hockey team.
Aiden has challenged me to bring that idea forward.
As something more than a dream that has been buried—something I should actively pursue as a career.
To let my talent speak over the last name of Rivershon.
His love and belief in me have made me brave enough to do it.
I’m going to come up with a plan to make it happen.
Starting with creating an online presence for my hockey photography.
My thoughts shift again. I took pictures of both Aiden and Ethan during warm-ups, and the dynamic was not lost on me. My brother and my boyfriend are about to face off against each other on the ice. Which wouldn’t be a big deal except for the fact that Ethan hates Aiden.
My stomach grows queasy. This only has a thousand and one ways it can go wrong. All I can do is hope that Ethan will control himself and not give in to any ideas of starting something with Aiden.
“Scarlett!”
I turn around and see Georgie approaching me. I smile brightly at her. She’s wearing a bedazzled, fitted Miami Manatees T-shirt with “Bailey” and “92” in sparkles.
I can’t wait until I can wear Aiden’s name and number in public.
Then my stomach twists. I just have to find a way to make sure I get to wear a Manatees shirt when I am finally able to support him. Because if Dad has his way once he knows this? Aiden will be traded to another team as soon as the general manager can get a deal done.
The sickness in my stomach grows stronger. I push down the bile rising in my throat and force myself to shove the idea of what Dad might do aside and focus on Georgie.
“I was hoping I’d run into you,” she says, smiling brightly. Her expression goes serious for a moment. “First, how’s your head?”
GAH. I have a lovely purple bruise on my forehead, although I was pretty impressed with the makeup camouflage job I did before heading out tonight.
“Ugly, but feels fine,” I assure her.
Georgie studies me with a thoughtful expression on her face. “You really can’t see much of anything.”
“It’s the magic of body makeup,” I say breezily. Which I ran out and bought the very next day after the accident.
“I was wondering if you have room in your schedule to take some pictures of my jars next week. I know you said I could text you about it, but I thought I would just ask you the next time I bumped into you at a game.”
My sickness is momentarily replaced by excitement that bubbles up within me. This is an opportunity to spend time with Georgie. Get to know her better.
To see if we can become friends.
For a split second, I freeze when I think of that possibility.
Georgie can’t know about Aiden yet. I can’t put that kind of secret on her to keep, or potentially drag Beckham into it, too.
I don’t like the idea of lying to her. In fact, I hate it.
But I refuse to put Georgie in an awkward situation, so I’ll either have to throw her off or lie about some things to keep her out of it.
Ugh, that makes me sick, too.
But if we do become friends, I’ll tell her everything as soon as Aiden and I have told my parents.
And that thought eases my conscience a bit.
“What about next Monday? I can take a day off from work to do it,” I ask.
Georgie immediately puts out her hand. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t want you to take time off work for me!”
“Georgie. I have personal days I can’t roll over. You’re giving me a good reason to use a day and do something for myself.”
“But don’t you want to use your day off to get a manicure or facial or spend the day at the beach?”
“Nope,” I insist. I reach into my clear bag for my phone. “If Monday morning works, I’ll put you down. Oh! Would it be possible for you to come over to my place? I have all my lighting stuff there.”
“Yes, of course. I travel with my jars all the time at this time of year doing shows, so I’ll just bring some of my show samples. What time?”
“Ten-thirty?”
“That works.”
Next week the Manatees are on the road, and doing a project like this will help distract me from fixating on the fact that Aiden will be gone for a week—one of the longest road trips of the season.
“Great. I’m going to text you my address,” I say, pulling up her contact info and texting her my location. I hear a ding, and she retrieves her phone, unlocks it, and nods.
“Got it,” she says. “Are you going to the lounge?”
I shake my head. I still feel the WAGs lounge is sacred ground. Maybe when the news about Aiden is out, I can pop in for brief periods, but I know my place.
Even if everyone knows I’m with Aiden, I’m still the coach’s daughter. I need to respect their space.
“No, I’m just running in here to get something to eat,” I say, inclining my head to the private club across the hall. “Then I’ll go sit with Mom.”
“Okay,” she says, smiling. “Then if I don’t see you for the rest of the night, I’ll see you Monday.”
“See you!” I say before heading into the club.
The sleek space is decorated for the holidays now, filled with greenery, a decorated tree, and lots of twinkling white lights.
The club is reserved for WAGs and anyone who has a ticket on the front row, right at the glass, and you’re always given a wristband upon entry unless you’re a known regular, like I am.
“Hi, Suzette!” I say to the woman at the hostess stand.
“Hello, Scarlett!” she says.
I head inside, making a beeline for the luxury buffet.
I pick up a plate and get some pesto chicken salad, my go-to on game nights, then discard my matcha in favor of a bottled water and take a seat.
The club is loud, with music playing and the Manatees pregame show on most of the monitors.
Over the bar, other sports channels are on, and I see someone reporting on F1 from Las Vegas.
I flip over my phone. Hadleigh has been silent since our last text, when she was about to go to some expensive club in Las Vegas where Xavier was making an appearance.
She was going with her best friend, Isla Foley, who is a reporter for the Downforce Network and girlfriend of F1 driver Caleb Collings.
So I know she was definitely going to meet him.
But she’s been silent ever since, which is weird.
I can’t say I know much of anything about F1, but I know she mentioned they would have practice sessions tonight, which she was going to watch from the Collings garage.
Hm. I decide to dig a little more. I go to Hadleigh’s Instagram. No updates. No picture of her with Xavier. I check her Connectivity Story Share. Same.
I’m sure she’d share a pic if she met him. Unless maybe it was a private meeting? But from what I’ve seen on Reels and Story Share and TikTok, Xavier Williams is not averse to having his picture taken.
I hesitate. We’re having coffee next week and doing our Friday girls’ night out, but we’ve only exchanged texts since our fateful meeting at the grocery store and I’m not sure if it’s okay for me to ask her if she met him.
Is there some kind of friendship rule for this?
Like do we need to hang out first before I can send that kind of text?
I chew the inside of my cheek. Am I overthinking this? Like what is Hadleigh going to do if I send her a text? Block me? She sent me texts showing me outfits and expressing how excited she was to meet her crush.
I am definitely overthinking this.
What’s that old saying? Fortune favors the bold?
That’s me, I think with a bit of amazement.
I’m becoming bold. I pursued a relationship with Aiden—while some might say that was a choice of insanity, I say that’s the choice of a bold woman who knows a good thing when she sees it.
I was bold in asking Hadleigh if she’d like to get coffee.
I was bold in offering my photography services to Georgie.
Being bold has given me a man I love and potential new friends. Risking everything for Aiden—and having his belief and support—has changed me.
I’m bolder now. And it’s no time to stop being so.
I pop open Hadleigh’s contact info and type her a message:
Hey! Where are my pictures of you with Xavier Williams? What was he like? Even hotter in person? Was he charming? DID HE SMELL GOOD?
Then I hit send with no hesitation.
I resume eating my pasta, and I’m considering taking a swing through the dessert table when my phone vibrates on the table. I see that Hadleigh has responded:
I met him. It was fine.
WHAT?
Not that I by any means know Hadleigh well, but this seems like a very un-Hadleigh response.
I mean, she ran into an endcap because she was so engrossed in a TikTok of the man.
Concern grips me. Was he an asshole? Or worse, did Xavier make an unwanted move on her? My fingers fly across my keyboard as I respond:
Hadleigh. Is everything okay? Was he horrible? Did he do something to offend you?
Hadleigh Vanderburg is typing …
No, no, he was fine. Nothing nefarious happened.
Okay, there’s a spark of the woman I met, using words like “nefarious.”
But describing Xavier Williams as fine? Something’s off.