Chapter 3
Three
Tedi
I get snug in my first-class seat while the sun descends and grab my tablet to do some work during my flight. I need to figure out how I’m going to turn this around in Chicago. Scanning through what Gill has done so far, my finger stops on a picture of Tweetie laughing with the men I think are his closest friends on the team. He always makes friends so fast, so it doesn’t surprise me how close he is to the other three key players on the Falcons.
“You a Tweetie Sorenson fan?” the woman in the seat next to me asks.
I tilt the tablet toward the window and turn to look at her. She’s about my age, with red hair cut in a cute short style I’d never be able to pull off, but it looks great on her. Her smile is wide and welcoming.
“Sorry.” She cringes and raises her hand. “Huge Falcons fan.”
“It’s okay.” I lower the tablet, allowing my defenses to subside. I have no claim to Tweetie anyway.
“If my husband was sitting where I am, he’d be talking your ear off about that Trifecta.”
I smile politely. The Trifecta. The name used for Tweetie, his center, Rowan, and right wing, Henry. Coined by his agent, Jagger Kale, the person whose brain I should probably be picking about how to sell these guys. It’s a name he purposely used a few times, then bam, it stuck, and now they will always be referred to as the Trifecta. After Conor Nilsen joined last year as their goalie, it’s now “The Trifecta and Pinkie are unstoppable.”
“They are something.”
She looks at the tablet again. “Go back to whatever you were doing. I’m sorry for interrupting.”
My vision lingers on the line of people still boarding. I could sit here and allow my anxiety over what I’m about to do to keep ratcheting higher and higher the closer it comes to the plane’s wheels leaving the New York tarmac only to land in Chicago, or I can distract myself.
“Are you from Chicago?” I ask.
She nods. “I was just here for business. It’s new for me to be traveling, and I can’t wait to get home. They say it’s so easy doing this career and family thing, but it’s hard to be away.”
“My best friend struggled with that for a long time.”
“The struggle is real, but I think I’m a little hormonal from still breastfeeding. Lugging around a pump isn’t ideal for self-confidence. Petrified you’re going to leak in the middle of the conference room.”
She talks about how bathrooms don’t have specific rooms for nursing mothers and how she leaked in front of her boss this week. All things I know nothing about. I wasn’t always sure I wanted to have kids, but the older I get, the more I worry that that stage of my life is passing me by.
“Forget what I’m saying.” Her hand on my arm pulls my thoughts back to the present. “Let’s talk hockey since you’re clearly a fan.” She nods toward the tablet on my lap.
“Oh, it’s for work…” Shit, I regret opening my big fat mouth right away when her eyes light up.
“What do you do for work?”
Crap. Crap. Crap.
“I work for the national league, but I’m heading to Chicago to do some social media stuff for them.”
Her mouth gapes open. “You’re so lucky. That sounds exciting. So, you’re going to, like, meet Tweetie and the rest of the players?”
“Yeah, I can’t wait.” I smack on a smile I’m sure doesn’t reach my eyes.
“God.” She looks around and leans in closer. “Do you know Tweetie’s real name?”
I don’t say anything at first. Not that I’m surprised she’s asked. But he’s only ever used his initials, and now everywhere that mentions him only says Tweetie.
“Um…” Just lie, Tedi. You’ll never see her again. “No. Just the initials. He keeps that top secret.” I shrug.
She sighs. “My husband and I throw around ideas all the time for what we think the J stands for.” She rocks her head back on the headrest and turns to me. “I bet there’s some girl out there who knows. Someone special.”
My stomach lifts from the memory of the night he trusted me enough to tell me.
“From what I hear, he’s kind of a ladies’ man.” The words feel like shards of glass leaving my lips.
She nods. “Yeah, me too, but you just know it’s because some girl broke his heart.” She shrugs. “My husband says I’m a romantic and I conjure up these things out of nowhere.”
“It’s sweet.” I have a feeling if she heard the story of Tweetie and me, I’d be passing her tissues.
“He’s the last man standing.” Again, she leans in close to me. “I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I kind of stalk them all on social media. Did you know that Pinkie got married this past weekend? Some blonde started showing up in his socials this past fall, and then bam. Married.” Her hands rise, and her fingers are spread as if it’s the hottest gossip.
I hadn’t actually heard this rumor, and I wonder if it’s true. Whenever those dark nights come and I search Tweetie’s socials, Conor’s usually with him at some club or another.
“They say when you know, you know.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat.
The line of passengers has cleared from the aisle, and the flight attendant is pushing down the overhead bin doors.
“I’m not trying to be rude, but I have some flying anxiety.” She pulls out her AirPods.
“Oh, no problem.” I smile and put away my tablet, digging my own AirPods from my bag.
We both put our AirPods in, and I stare at the ground crew doing all the things they need to so we have a safe flight. My heart skips a beat when I think about being face-to-face with Tweetie again.
At some point during the pull back from the gate, on our way to the runway, I remember our first night together.