Chapter 43
CHAPTER
FORTY-THREE
Mateo
The eucalyptus scent fills the massage room, just like it always does. I am right where I am supposed to be. The fountain bubbles in its familiar manner, and I turn on my favorite massage music.
This is calm and peaceful. This is home.
I miss Florian.
But it’s fine. I think we’re good. We have plans for Christmas. And Florian already sent me a text last night saying he missed me and already sent me a text this morning welcoming me to work.
He is really sweet. And completely far away.
And perhaps…
I frown.
At some point, he won’t be sending me texts every day. At some point I’ll simply be a name on the phone. Maybe he’ll even meet other Mateos, and I will be Mateo from Boston or Mateo the Massage Therapist so he can differentiate us.
No.
No way.
I love him.
He loves me.
In which case—
Oh, God. I shouldn’t be here.
I should be with him.
Obviously.
I’m not supposed to be in Tennessee. I never considered moving there. I never even wondered what it might be like to spend a weekend away there. I never longingly watched YouTube videos of Tennessee or Nashville, watching some bright-eyed influencer list all the wonders of the place.
But now it’s the place I most want to be.
I’m not going to stay here and miss him, when I could be there, not missing him.
It’s fifteen minutes until my first appointment, but I take out my phone. I google “massage therapy licenses in Tennessee.” I type in “transfer massage therapy licenses from Massachusetts to Tennessee.”
It’s possible. It’s doable. It will take some time, but it’s not like I’ll have to retake the bar or something. There are differences, but I can do this.
And if I were a lawyer and needed to retake the bar so I could work in Tennessee, I would do that too.
Of course I would.
I’ll find a new job in Nashville. Nashville is filled with hotels and athletic teams. Someone will take me.
A knock sounds on the door, and I jump. I rush to answer it.
For a moment, I imagine Florian on the other side of the door, like we’re in a romantic comedy movie.
But when I open the door, it’s Troy.
Naturally.
Florian is in Nashville. I know that.
“Hi, Troy!” I exclaim.
Troy beams at me. “Welcome back!”
I gesture to the massage table, and Troy scrambles onto it happily.
“I am so sore,” he says. “You give the best massages.”
I smile because I do love this job, then I put massage oil over him.
“Any new injuries?” I ask.
“You haven’t been keeping up with Blizzards games?”
“Well…”
He laughs. “It’s okay. You were busy. I bet you were watching Nashville Twisters games.”
“I was,” I admit.
And I shouldn’t be here now. I glance longingly at my phone. All I want to do now is research how I can move to Nashville.
“I got thrown into the boards once.” He points to his left shoulder. “But I’m fine.”
I speak more to him about his injuries, then I start the massage.
The main thing is that Florian is enjoying his life in Nashville. And I can get in touch with him. It’s not like we’re enemies or anything.
It’s just… well, I miss him.
A lot.
I blink rapidly.
“Mateo?” Troy asks.
I’ve stopped massaging him.
“Sorry,” I say hastily. “Sorry.”
And then I continue the massage.
Florian
I hurry through Logan Airport then rush to the taxi stand. I fling myself inside a taxi. “Get me to the Blizzards Arena, fast.”
The taxi driver chuckles. “Big hockey fan?” He turns around, and his eyes round. “Florian Richter!”
“You recognize me?”
“Of course. How’s Nashville?”
“Okay. And maybe it will be even better soon.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes. I have a plan.”
The taxi driver chuckles, then he quickens the speed. We fly in the left lane toward Boston’s large skyscrapers, then turn off at the exit to the Blizzards’ Arena.
I dash toward the entrance and its large double doors.
I am almost there.
I will almost see Mateo.
The security guard narrows his eyes. “Florian?”
“Hello. Can you let me in?”
“You don’t work here anymore,” the security guard says apologetically. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Oh.” I blink. “Oh. I—uh.”
I’m not supposed to be here. Obviously.
I don’t work here. But somehow, I didn’t anticipate that I wouldn’t be able to get through security. I didn’t think I would be stopped.
Clearly, I haven’t done much thinking.
“Do you want me to call someone?” The guard looks at me uncertainly, like he thinks I’m going to demand my job back or something.
I won’t.
Though if I could, I would.
If I could make some sort of change so that Mateo could stay in Boston, I would.
Because even though Annika said that he might want to come with me… He might not.
He might look at me with bafflement, wondering at my presence. He might tell me that of course he can’t go back to Nashville, that his life is in Boston. He might look at me with pity.
He might say that he loves me, but some things are more important than love. He might say that telling me ‘I love you’ was his way of saying goodbye, like my parents say ‘I love you’ at the end of phone calls.
And though maybe he’ll say we can be friends… It is perhaps difficult to remain friends with someone one has expressed romantic affection for.
I do not know.
The guard calls someone—probably Daniela, and I pace the entrance until he waves me through.
I hurry through the arena toward the massage room, waving at my startled former colleagues. Perhaps they worry that I am going to try to speak with Coach too.