Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Andi
Back straight, I stepped through the door, into the team box.
Like nothing happened, I sat back down beside my mother, but not before scooping up a large cupcake on the way past. A chocolate one, with decorative chocolate frosting. Exactly the kind that would horrify her.
She glanced over at me, eyes widening as I licked frosting of the side.
“Yes, I am going to eat this,” I said. “And I'm going to enjoy every mouthful. Are you going to watch me eat it?”
“Why would I watch you eat?” she asked tersely.
“It seems like the latest Lowball Bay pastime,” I said. “And you've made a fine art out of it for the last thirty years.”
“That wasn't what I meant when I said you should watch what you eat.” She looked away from my cupcake and her expression softened. “Are you okay? I was worried about you. When I saw that you couldn't breathe… I didn't know what to do.”
“I'm fine,” I said lightly. “It's going to take more than a piece of Frank to take me down. Although, I should thank whoever dislodged it for me.”
“It was her.” Cynthia nodded to a woman who stood behind us. She was about my age, slender with pale pink hair.
She smiled shyly at me.
I smiled back. “Thank you. If you hadn't thought so quickly, I might not be here now.”
She shrugged. “I acted without thinking, but you're welcome. Gotta be careful of those hotdogs.” She winked and smiled warmly. She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite place her.
“That's what I keep telling Andrea,” Cynthia said.
“If you told me I might choke on one and almost die, I might have avoided them,” I said.
“I think what I said was that if you keep eating that rubbish, it'll kill you,” she eyed the cupcake again. “So technically, I was correct.”
“Life is too short not to eat cake.” I bit into the side of mine. “What's the score?”
Fully aware she wouldn't have a clue, I glanced over at the scoreboard.
In the first few minutes of the third period, the Sea Dragons were leading two goals to one.
I'd missed most of the game while I hid in my office, and then dry humped Cam until I had an orgasm in his lap.
What came over me? I'd never done that with anyone before. But Cam and I, we fit together so perfectly. His touch had sent electricity rocketing all the way through me. And his cock, his cock felt so big. So perfect rubbing against my clit. I wanted more. I wanted to know how he'd feel inside me.
Was my face pink now? Probably; it was warm. I kept it hidden as best I could behind my cupcake and told my clit to calm down for now. Later, she could come out again and play.
She seemed happy with that, for now.
“I have no idea what's going on,” Cynthia admitted. “It seems to involve a lot of pushing and shoving, with the occasional use of the stick against that little rubber thing.” She waved her hand vaguely, but the sides of her mouth hinted at a smile. She wasn't as oblivious as she let on.
I couldn't help laughing. “It's called a puck, Mom. The idea is to get that into the goal. Preferably without getting punched in the face, or losing teeth.”
She looked horrified, in a fascinated kind of way. “Barbaric.” She wouldn't let on, but she was actually enjoying the game.
“That's what we like about it,” the pink-haired woman said from behind us.
Cynthia clicked her tongue.
I ignored her and followed Cam around the ice with my gaze. He seemed to be everywhere, all at once. On and off as they switched back and forth between him and another winger. I didn't know how they kept track of shifts, but no one missed a beat, switching out quickly every forty-five seconds or so.
I cheered as Blake stopped a goal with his glove at the last moment, preventing the Tornadoes from equaling the score. Moments later, Cam had possession of the puck and slapped it over to the right winger, who slapped it back before Cam flicked it past the opposition‘s goalie and into the basket.
I found myself on my feet, cheering and clapping along with everyone else.
He turned his face and looked straight at me before raising his stick to point in my direction. He nodded and grinned.
That goal was for me.
The crowd went wild and, once again I was on the big screen, this time grinning proudly, rather than choking. Hopefully this was the footage that went viral, not the hotdog. Yeah, that was a faint hope, but a girl could dream, couldn't she?
“I assume that was a good thing,” my mother said. “The score seems to be three to one in our favor.”
I sat back down and raised my eyebrows at her. “It's ours now, is it?” I half-teased.
“My daughter owns the team, therefore it's ours,” she said with a sniff. “I suppose you expect me to attend more games.”
“I don't expect anything, Mom,” I said gently. “But if you'd like to join me, I'll be happy to have you here. Dad too. You should try a cupcake. These are really good.” I finished the last of mine and licked frosting from my fingers. “I realized something from almost choking to death. Life is too short not to enjoy every moment of it. If that means having a treat once in a while, then where's the harm?”
Predictably, she looked unconvinced. “I brought a banana.” She reached into her bag .
“I'll remember to have catering supply bananas next time,” I assured her. If my mother wanted bananas, then bananas she should have.
“Be careful eating that though. Especially if the camera is turned in our direction.” That did not need to go viral. I didn't know who'd be more horrified, her or me.
Pia would find the whole thing hilarious. Hotdog, banana, whatever. She'd be rolling on the floor laughing at the sight of it. Except the bit where I almost died. The fact she wasn't blowing up my phone with text messages meant she hadn't seen it yet. She would, soon enough.
“I know you think I'm a boring old lady,” Cynthia started. “but I just want you to live a long, healthy life. Is that so terrible?”
“Not at all.” I was surprised she hadn't added 'productive,' but for once, she didn't. Maybe she was lightening up. “It just means you care. But I don't need a lecture. Or to be judged. Not from you. Just support me and cheer me on. And I'll do the same to you. In fact, I think we should work together to organize a charity event. We can get the whole team involved.”
Briefly I wondered if we could incorporate the team hotdog eating session, but I suspected that might be a step too far for my mother.
“I'd enjoy that, Andrea,” she said.
“Andi,” I corrected.
She lowered her eyebrows slightly and went on eating her banana.
One step at a time.
I returned my attention to the ice as the fourth period began.
By the time the horn sounded at the end of the game, even my mother was on her feet, clapping and smiling. She didn't cheer, but this was enough. Seeing her enjoy herself, and her appreciation for the team, made my heart a little happier. A little lighter.
Did she have any idea how much it meant to me that we were sharing this? That she wasn't just sitting in her chair, her arms crossed, looking like she wanted to be anywhere but here?
No, that pose was usually reserved for things like school plays and piano recitals. She valued the arts, she even raised money for it, but she didn't want her daughters in occupations that could be considered artistic. As far as she was concerned, that wasn't real work. Even after seeing me practice piano for hours at a time. Making her proud was always one of my biggest challenges.
Tonight, I felt like maybe I was capable of doing just that.
Cam and the rest of the team were skating around, hugging each other and grinning. And shaking hands with opposition players as they skated past. Making me proud was something he did effortlessly. Not only because I owned the team, but because I was learning to appreciate the game and the skill it took to do what he did. He made it look easy, but it was far from it.
And that was hot as hell.
He looked up at me and waved, smiling bigger than I'd seen him do before. If he wasn't careful, he'd lose his reputation as the team grump.
His smile faded when Nate shouldered him, shoving him back a couple of feet. He looked as though he might take a swing at the other player, but shook his head and shoved him back with his hands.
“That's the man who kissed you,” Cynthia said. “Isn't it? What's going on between you two? He came in here looking for you. He seemed very angry and concerned.” Her expression was cautious.
“We care about each other,” I said .
If she knew what we did on the couch in my office, her expression would be more than cautious.
“I'm not sure where it'll go.”
The whole thing was so new, I hadn't had time to spare a thought for the future. Did we have one? I liked him a lot, but what if my schedule was too much for him? What if he, like Xander, decided I was too busy and distant? Not to mention how busy he was with training, traveling and playing.
Caring about each other was one thing, making it work was another.
“He's not your usual type,” she pointed out.
“You mean he doesn't wear a suit to work,” I said. “A suit is just a different kind of uniform.”
She sniffed. “A perfectly tailored suit is completely different to,” she gestured down to the ice, “a sporting uniform. How long can he expect to keep doing this? What is he going to do after that? Does he have any other skills for a job that doesn't involve skating and punching?”
“I don't know, Mom. Maybe he's going to retire and sit on the beach all day counting the grains of sand.” He'd be bored in about six seconds.
“There's no need to be sarcastic, Andrea,” she said .
Apparently whatever headway we made was as far as we were going to get tonight.
“I'm concerned for you and your future. Don't jump in blind and then regret it because you didn't ask the right questions.”
“This isn't a corporate merger, or a hostile takeover,” I said.
“No, it might be the rest of your life,” she said.
She let out a long, weary sigh. Like somehow she was disappointed in my lack of ability to appreciate her point of view.
Correction, my lack of willingness to appreciate her telling me what to do and judging every little thing. My lack of cooperation in behaving exactly the way she expected me to, moment by moment.
I must be very fucking disappointing to her.
“It seems the game is over, you can drive me home.” And that was the end of the conversation as far as she was concerned.
“Okay, Mom.” I grabbed up my things and followed her out the door.
Before it closed behind me, I managed to send off a quick text.