Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
Eloise
It’s been a week since my dinner with Tristan, and the sadness over the end of my relationship has slowly melted away, leaving only relief behind. Relief that I finally got up the nerve to say what I should have a long time ago. I feel as though I can finally leave that part of my life behind and discover this new version of me.
Conor has been giving me space ever since our little spat on the sidewalk, if you want to call it that. I’m kind of surprised honestly. Usually, Conor’s MO is to cheer me up. The man hates to see people upset, I think.
I walk out of my bedroom as Conor is coming in the front door, obviously returning from working out.
“Hey,” I say with a smile.
He stops and tosses a pile of mail on the table by the door. “Hey.”
“Good workout?”
“I was training. I work with a guy before the preseason to make sure my excellent skills remain intact.” He doesn’t crack a smile, just heads into the kitchen to grab a water. “What about you? What are you up to?”
Ugh, I hate this distance between us. More than I would have thought I would.
“I’m heading out to go do some random acts of kindness.”
He peeks his head out of the fridge. “Include dinner, and I’m game.” When he grins at me, my shoulders relax a bit.
“I don’t remember inviting you.” I turn and smile to myself as I grab my purse from the chair.
“You know it will be more fun with me.”
He’s right. It will.
This past week, I needed the time to reevaluate what I want my future to look like, and no matter what version I imagined, Conor was there. Maybe we won’t last. Maybe we will. But I’m not going to be afraid to put myself out there just because it didn’t work out with Tristan. I learned some lessons from how everything went down with him, and I plan to bring them into my next relationship. So, I’m done teetering the line with Conor. We need to figure out what side of it we’re going to fall on. I’m not suggesting I’m going to tie myself to his headboard naked for his taking, but I don’t want to ignore the chemistry between us either.
“You have about ten minutes,” I say.
“I don’t do a lot of things fast, but I can get ready in that short of time.” He heads toward his bedroom, but stops and comes back over, standing at the back of the couch. “I’m sorry for last week.”
I peer up from my phone. “You don’t have to apologize. I just got defensive, because… well, you know. But I know you and Jade just wanted to be there for me.”
He stays in place and holds my gaze. “I did want to be there for you in case he did something shitty, but… I was afraid too.”
I drop my phone in my lap. “About what?”
“I was afraid you were going to take him back.” He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, obviously uncomfortable. It’s amusing that I can make this big, tough, successful hockey player uncomfortable. Scratch that, it’s endearing.
“And had I, what would you have done?” I shouldn’t ask. This line of conversation could twist us in a place we’re not ready for.
“I’m pretty sure I would’ve interfered.” Again, another shift of his body, his knuckles white along the back of the couch.
“Oh.”
“That’s it?” He arches an eyebrow.
“Well, it didn’t come to that. Can I really get mad at you for wanting to fight for me?”
His gorgeous smile wipes away all the worry lining his face. I smile back and am relieved that things feel lighter between us now.
“I’ll be right back.” He circles around and heads into his bedroom.
Once the door shuts, I tip my head back against the cushions, repeating to myself to trust this feeling in my gut. If I’d done that in the first place, I wouldn’t have ended up running out on my own wedding.
Half an hour later, after we’ve stopped to get some coffees, we’re waiting for the light to change so we can cross the street.
“Okay, how many acts of kindness do you want to do?” Conor asks.
“Well, thirty total, but I have a few months. I was thinking I’d do a couple today.”
He nods, looking around. “How elaborate do you want them to be? Do we count picking up that piece of garbage as an act or opening a door for someone?”
“Garbage yes, but it can’t be like thirty pieces of garbage, and we’re done. One piece of garbage. Opening a door for someone…” My head bobs right and left. “Not for hot girls though.”
Conor laughs and wraps his lips around his straw. He swallows, and his hand falls on my shoulder. “No hot girls and no hot guys then.” He eyes me, looking for a response.
“Deal.”
“Well, there’s your piece of garbage.” He points at an empty coffee cup on the sidewalk. Someone must have missed the garbage can or didn’t even try to get it in.
“Okay…” I stare at the piece of garbage. “Let me get my wipes out.” I shuffle over to the wall, out of foot traffic, and open my purse, taking out my wipes. “Here, hold this.” I shove my coffee at him, which he takes with no complaint.
I grab a wipe, pick up the cup, and toss it in the trash can.
Conor leans against the brick wall. “Want me to get you a hazmat suit?”
I give him my sassy shut up look, which only makes him laugh. Taking out my sanitizer, I put it on my hands before taking my coffee back from Conor. We walk some more, and I rack my brain for what else we can do.
“Want to donate blood?” I ask.
“You’re not afraid of needles?”
“Are you?”
“I’m not afraid of anything.” He puffs out his chest and turns us to the right when we reach the corner.
“I don’t believe you. Give me something.” I take a sip from my drink.
He stops us around the corner of the busy street and pulls out his phone, resting his cup in the elbow of his arm against his chest. “No, there’s nothing.”
His thumbs move across the screen.
“You’re lying. Snakes? Flying? Heights?”
Conor shakes his head, still looking at his phone. “Nope.”
“Monogamy?”
He peeks up, and his expression says, “Are you really asking me that?”
After pressing more buttons on his phone and reading over the screen, he pockets his phone. “I hope you’re not afraid of needles because tomorrow at ten, you’re giving blood. There were no more appointments available for today.”
“Just me?” I’m trying not to be disappointed that he’s having me do it on my own.
“I’ll be there. Good thing for you, I’m not afraid of needles. Nor am I afraid of monogamy, for the record.”
I bite my lip. “It was just a guess. When was your last serious relationship?”
He leads us back to the main street. “College maybe, and even then, it was only a few months.”
“Interesting.”
He sips his drink, side-eyeing me. “My schedule has always been the problem. In high school, I had girls I went to dances with, and I had one girlfriend I dated for, like, six months. I rarely saw her. In college, I was too focused on making it to the professional league, and I wasn’t willing to sacrifice my future for a relationship. I think over time, you just get used to going out with the guys and picking up women.” He takes another sip of his drink. “As horrible as it sounds, early in my career, it was kind of a high. You go from a regular guy to women acting like you’re a celebrity they can’t believe they’re seeing in the flesh. I probably took advantage of it truthfully.”
An elderly man with a cane is walking down the street, and he turns toward the local tea shop. Conor hurries over and opens the door for him. He thanks him, giving him a double-take but enters without asking Conor if he is who he thinks he is.
“Hey, make your own list.” I grin at him.
The door shuts behind the man, and we continue down the sidewalk.
“I did.” Conor nudges me with a light tug on my elbow. “You inspired me.”
“Are you going to share it with me?”
He tosses his cold brew into a trash can as we pass by, raising his fingers as if he scored a basket. Always the athlete. “I don’t know.”
“Hey. I shared mine with you.”
He shrugs. “Technically, it fell out, and I found it.”
“Come on.”
“What’s it to you?” he asks, grabbing my hand and jogging across the street before we miss the light.
I like the way my hand feels in his, but he drops it as soon as we’ve cleared the road.
“Tell me one thing from the list.” I hold up a finger.
“All right. To go offline for a weekend.”
“Oh, that’s a good one. I want to add that to mine.” I toss my empty cup in the next trash can we pass.
“Sorry, it’s not thirty-one things before you turn thirty.”
He stops at one of the businesses and opens the door for me. I go inside, not sure what this place is, but not questioning him.
“It can be whatever I want it to be. It can be thirty-two.”
“When do you turn thirty?” He puts his hand on the small of my back to lead me farther into the store, and I memorize the shape and feel of it so that I can revisit it later.
“November.”
“Do you really want to add to that list? I’m not sure you’ll have time to finish yours before you turn thirty.”
I stop and stare at him. “You’re putting stipulations on it like you’re all high and mighty because you have, like, two years before you turn forty.” I have no idea how I keep a straight face.
His forehead crinkles, and he narrows his eyes. “I’m not Tweetie. I have almost a fucking decade before I turn forty.”
I stick my tongue out at him and giggle, finally looking around to see where we are. I realize it’s a boutique that just opened that I’ve heard about and wanted to come check out.
“Why are we here?” Did he somehow know I wanted to see what this place has to offer?
“I meant to ask you before we arrived, but then you insulted me, and we got distracted. I have to attend a dinner my agent is hosting, and I’d really like you to be my date.”
Excitement wars with nerves in my chest. I open my mouth to respond, but he shakes his head, holding my gaze.
“Before you answer, Jade and Kyleigh will be there, so you won’t be alone. And Henry wants to go camping after, so it’ll be a whole weekend thing. We can cross off camp outside, watch a sunrise, and spontaneous trip from your list. And if you really want to go for more, I’ll even book us a train trip there.”
“Um… and this?”
“I hope you’ll allow me to buy your dress for the event, and for selfish reasons, I want to see you do a fashion show for me.”
My stomach feels as if it has bubbles expanding and popping inside. “When is it?”
He tucks me into the corner away from everyone. “Remember that spontaneous part? It’s next weekend.”
“Okay.” I nod.
“Okay?” he clarifies.
“Yeah, sure.” I lean in close. “You pick out a dress, and I pick out a dress.” I draw back and raise my eyebrows.
“Deal.” He breaks away from me and peruses the displays.
I watch him for a moment. He really is something. I’m not sure Conor is even aware of how swoony he is. Under the disguise of playboy is a guy who will be one helluva boyfriend, fiancé, or husband someday.