Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
MORGAN
“It’s kind of funny how you keep insisting you can’t travel with the team, yet you keep showing up,” AJ says with a small smile.
I set my glass on the bar top on the Club Level in the Dallas arena, and level her with a look. “Because you keep asking me to.”
“Morgan.” Her tone is the kind you use when admonishing a child. “Is that really what you’re going with?”
I’m not sure how to respond to that, so I just lift an eyebrow.
“I’ve watched you handle PR nightmares with poise and talk hockey players down mid-fight. You are not a person who does things she doesn’t want to do.”
My laugh is sharp, and my shoulders shake visibly, even through the Rebels quarter-zip sweater I’m wearing, drawing the attention of a guy sitting on the barstool just beyond AJ.
He gives me a nod, which I politely return, and refocus my attention on AJ.
But not before she notices and turns to see who I’m nodding at.
Then she turns back and mouthes, “He’s cute. ”
“The problem is . . .” I drop my voice so no one hears me—not that it should matter. We’re in Dallas having a quick pregame chat, so it’s not like I know anyone here. “. . . when people need me, I’m not so good at saying no.”
It’s why I watched Lauren’s twins so often when we first moved back to Boston, why I took over the social media accounts for Jules and Audrey’s business and helped them get their nonprofit started, why I worked with AJ and McCabe as they navigated the PR nightmare they found themselves in when their relationship was exposed.
And why I flew out to LA to help Luke and Eva concoct a believable story about their sudden marriage, and then helped Luke create the nursery of his wife’s dreams when Eva was hospitalized.
Sometimes, I get tired just thinking about all the ways I overcommit myself.
It’s not that I’ve minded doing any of these things.
It’s that I generally say yes because I have this perpetual need to make sure everyone around me is happy and cared for.
Recognizing that this sometimes comes at the expense of my own time or well-being often comes after the fact, but I really am trying to be more mindful of it.
“And you’re sure it’s not because you like the job? Like, you wouldn’t be interested in doing this full time?”
I’ve always known Tatum was coming back after her surgery, so the thought of this turning into something permanent hadn’t occurred to me before. “What about Tatum?”
“What about her?”
“Are you offering me her job?”
AJ’s rumble of laughter is deep. “I think her job is a bit beneath your skillset, Morgan.”
“Ironic, since I’m doing her job right now. So, what are you suggesting?”
“Nothing immediately. But our Director of Public Relations is going to be moving to San Francisco. His wife just finished her residency at Children’s Hospital in Boston and was recently offered a position out in California, starting in December.
I’m just putting the idea out there, letting you know that the position will be opening up, and I’m always looking for motivated and competent people to join our team. ”
I wonder if she’d be interested in hiring me full-time if she knew about my relationship with Aidan?
I’m tempted to ask her advice here, but before I can give the idea serious thought, the guy on the other side of her stands and pushes his barstool in.
The scrape of the legs against the floor distracts me as he steps up next to AJ.
“Forgive me for interrupting,” he says, speaking directly to me. His light hair is thick and his brown eyes are deep pools of chocolate. “And for being so bold. But, I’m just wondering if you’d be interested in grabbing a drink sometime?”
I’m so stunned he’s asking, that my lips part but no sound comes out. Then AJ laughs and says, “We’re actually from Boston.”
“Me too. I’m a Rebels season ticket holder, so . . . I know who you are,” he says directly to AJ. Then he turns toward me. “I’m actually here for the bachelor party of a friend from grad school. We’re going out after the game . . .”
“We’ll be at The Lamppost,” AJ says, “hopefully celebrating a win. You should stop by.”
He lets out a short laugh. “I’m pretty sure my friends will be wasted by the end of the game, so I’m not sure I’d want to subject you ladies to them.” He refocuses his gaze on me. “But, maybe after the next home game instead?”
I nod because I’m so conflicted I can’t seem to speak. Aidan told me I should be open to seeing other people, and here’s a cute guy asking me out. He seems polite and respectful. I’d be a fool to say no, wouldn’t I?
“Yeah, that sounds good,” I say, wondering why this all feels so wrong, why I only want Aidan. You want him because you know you can’t have him, I tell myself. Going after the guy who wants me but doesn’t want a commitment seems to be my MO, after all. This could be a chance to break that pattern.
He smiles, and his confidence shines through. “Great. I’m Sean, by the way. You want to text me so I have your number?”
“I’m Morgan. And sure,” I say, picking up my phone and typing in the number he gives me. I shoot him a text with my name, and his phone buzzes in his pocket.
“Perfect. I’ll be in touch, Morgan. Maybe I’ll even see you at The Lamppost tonight if my friends can behave themselves long enough to stop by and say hello.”
Holy shit. Him showing up at the bar tonight while Aidan is there is a recipe for disaster. I think I may be sick. In fact, I just might make myself sick so I don’t find myself at the bar with both of them.
I gulp, and say, “Sounds good, talk to you soon.”
When he leaves, AJ just lifts her eyebrow and waits for me to say something.
“What?”
“Why did I just get the distinct impression that you were looking for a way out of saying yes to a date with a cute, available guy? Are you . . . seeing someone?”
“No,” I say, and try to let out a light laugh like the idea is ridiculous, but it comes out sounding strangled.
AJ lifts one of her dark brows, no doubt scrutinizing my sincerity. “You sure?”
“Positive,” I say, but she looks suspicious as hell. Time to change the subject. “By the way, have you made a decision yet about Natalie?”
AJ sighs, her shoulders sinking as she does. “I’d really like to give her another chance, but ultimately it’s not up to me. She reports to Patrick. I’m only involved because a player was part of that situation.”
“I say this as a friend, not as someone who works for you. But that’s bullshit, and you know it.
There’s no part of the Rebels organization that you’re not involved in.
You hired Lauren and were instrumental in promoting her, even though she reports to Patrick.
You’re the one who suggested bringing me on as well. Why is this different?”
AJ sweeps her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “It will be viewed as me giving her a second chance because she’s a woman.”
“Why can’t it be viewed as giving someone who’s young but extremely good at her job a second chance after making an immature mistake?”
“It should be viewed that way, but given my vocal enthusiasm for hiring more women in professional sports, it won’t be. It’ll be seen through the gender lens.”
“What if I talked to Patrick about it?” I ask. “I know you guys said I should stay out of it, but I’m the one who worked directly with her and can therefore best judge her potential.”
“I wouldn’t be opposed to you approaching him about this, as long as Sarah from HR is part of the conversation. But you need to know, going into this, that Patrick is a huge stickler for the rules.”
“Great. I’ll ask them to show me where in her contract there’s specific mention of her not having a relationship with one of the players.”
AJ huffs out a laugh. We both know, from her own relationship with McCabe, that this language is not standard—though who knows, maybe it’s been added for new employees? “People have been fired for far less.”
“People are generally fired for not being good at their jobs. If that’s the case, get rid of Tatum instead.”
“Is she really that bad?” AJ asks.
“She just doesn’t have the mindset for social media.
Like, she has no sense of what will hit with our audience, doesn’t follow any of the trends, and hasn’t developed the right tone in her replies to comments.
She just . . . she’d probably be better suited for some other position in communications. ”
AJ nods, and I know what she’s thinking but isn’t allowed to say: the Rebels can’t fire Tatum because she just took a medical leave and that would open them up to a discrimination lawsuit.
“All right,” AJ says after glancing at her phone. “Charlie just texted me to come down to the locker room. You coming down to get some video before they take the ice for warm ups?”
“Sure, let’s go.”
The Lamppost is crowded and noisy, and the only thing that seems to distinguish it from any other upscale bar in Dallas is that the owner is apparently a huge Boston sports fan.
The walls are littered not only with Rebels memorabilia, but also with souvenirs celebrating Boston’s baseball, football, and basketball teams too.
I chuckle when Aidan stops on the stairs to the cordoned-off VIP section that’s been set aside for our team to take a picture of the huge framed poster of our esteemed quarterback, Liam Walker.
I can already envision the trash-talk in the text message he’s typing out as he steps onto the landing of the second floor.
“First round’s on me!” Luke hollers as he hands a credit card over to the bartender.
Cheers go up around the room, drawing the attention of the crowd below—something that probably only AJ and I notice, since we’re bringing up the rear. “Pretty sure everyone else should be buying him drinks after that shutout tonight,” she says with a laugh.
“He can afford it,” I say with a chuckle, because with his billionaire trust fund and his hockey contract, he’s never going to hurt for money. “Man, he’s been on fire this season. It’s so good to see.”
“It sure is,” she says, sounding relieved but not surprised.
“Is it still weird for you, coming out with the team like this?” I ask.
During the playoffs last season, I met her at The Neon Cactus when the team had specifically invited her out to celebrate her nomination for the General Manager of the Year award.
She’d mentioned then that she never goes out with the team, but this season, now that she and McCabe are together, it seems to be happening more.
“It’s getting . . . less weird,” she says, right as McCabe and Colt approach.
McCabe’s got a cocktail in his hand for her, and a beer for himself.
The way he comfortably wraps his arm around her lower back after handing her the drink, so at ease showing his affection for her in public, has a jolt of jealousy shooting up my spine.
My eyes meet Aidan’s gaze across the room, wishing he could be pulling me in close like that.
But not only is our relationship not like that, it also needs to remain private.
Colt turns, his head following my gaze. Before he can glance back at me, I say, too loudly, “Oh, it looks like space opened up at the bar. I’m going to head over and get a drink.
” And then I hightail it out of there, hoping that Colt didn’t actually notice the way I was looking at Aidan, and praying that if he did, he doesn’t say anything to AJ and McCabe.
I head to the bar, and when my phone buzzes, I’m expecting it to be a text from Aidan. Instead, there’s a new text from Sean, below the messages we exchanged an hour ago when I was busy finalizing the postgame content for social media.
Sean
My friends are too drunk for a place like The Lamppost, so we’re going somewhere more appropriate. I’ll be in touch once I’m back in Boston.
Morgan
No worries. We can connect then.
The eye roll emoji in that text made me think they’re headed to a strip club and he wasn’t thrilled with the choice.
But then there’s another text, sent just now.
Sean
Actually, I just realized we’re only a block away from The Lamppost. I’m going to sneak out and come have a drink with you. Hope that’s okay . . .
Shit, no, this is not good. Going on a date with someone else is one thing, but doing it right under Aidan’s nose is just plain rude. If I’d thought Sean might show up here, I wouldn’t have come.
I turn, leaving the bar behind to head back toward AJ. “Hey, I’m not feeling awesome so I’m going to head back to the hotel.”
“You okay?” she asks, while McCabe and Colt look on with concern.
“Yeah, I just have a headache. It’s probably best if I head back and go to sleep.”
“Do you want someone to make sure you get back okay? I can go with you if you want,” she says.
“No,” I tell her, my skin itching with anxiety. I need to get out of here. “I’m fine. You guys stay and enjoy celebrating another great win. Bye.”
I turn to leave, and I’m about three-quarters of the way down the stairs when I glance at the front door in time to see Sean walking in. I freeze, hoping that if I don’t move, he won’t see me and I can slip out. It’s just my luck that his gaze lifts and our eyes lock. Shit.
His face splits into a huge grin and he heads straight toward me. I feel terrible that I was trying to sneak out without him seeing me, when he’s so obviously happy to have found me.
“You came to meet me at the door? That’s sweet. Let me buy you a drink before I have to run back and babysit those drunk idiots I’m with,” he says, placing his hand on my lower back and guiding me over toward the bar.
Shockingly there are two seats available. As we order, an odd sensation rolls up the back of my neck. I feel like I’m being watched and sure enough, when my eyes flick up to the VIP section, Aidan stands at the metal railing, his head turned away from McCabe as he watches me.