Chapter 38
PATTERSON
THREE WEEKS LATER
Diamond is packed for a Saturday night, but being the guy who broke the all-time league scoring record has its perks. I was able to call in a few favors and get last-minute reservations.
We’re in the middle of playoffs, and my time has been stretched thin, but I’m now making an effort with my brother and sister. Something I haven’t done in years. Jameson and I are escorted to a booth in the back corner, where we can actually hold a private conversation.
On the way, three different people stop me to talk about the playoffs. We’re up 2 to 1 in the second round, and the whole city is losing its mind. A random guy wants a photo, and I take one with him.
“Must be nice,” Jameson says once we sit down.
“What?”
“Being famous.”
“What are you talking about? You were famous.”
“I was Brooklyn famous. You’re New York famous. There’s a big fucking difference.” He waves at the server. “Two whiskeys, top shelf. His tab.”
“It’s fine, my tab,” I tell the guy.
My brother grins and turns to me. “After you negotiated a sixty-million-dollar contract, you’re buying my drinks for the rest of our lives.”
I roll my eyes, knowing how much money he has. “Oh, you can absolutely afford it. You’re wealthy.”
“Not Patty Cross wealthy.”
I glance around the room. Diamond is an establishment where senators sit three tables away from pop stars, and nobody bats an eye. Crystal chandeliers hang from vaulted ceilings, and the lighting is dim enough to feel intimate but bright enough to see who’s worth knowing.
Tonight’s clientele includes a hedge fund manager I recognize from the news and an actress whose face I can’t place but who has definitely been on magazine covers. Nobody approaches our table without permission from the staff. That’s the whole point of a place like this.
The server returns with our whiskeys on a silver platter, along with a small plate of shrimp brochette that we didn’t order.
Before I can say anything, the guy speaks up.
“Compliments of the house, Mr. Cross,” he says. “Congratulations on the playoff run.”
“Wow, thank you.”
He disappears, and Jameson raises an eyebrow. “You’re really living the life.”
“Perks of being a champion.”
“You haven’t won yet.”
“Oh, we have. That Cup is ours.”
Jameson picks up his whiskey. “So, what’s going on? You said you wanted to talk privately.”
I take a sip and then set the glass down. “I’m going to ask Kendall to marry me.”
Jameson nods, like I told him the weather forecast. “Okay.”
“Okay? That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say? I’m shocked? I had no idea this was coming?” He takes a sip. “You were willing to give up your career for her.”
“Yes, but also me proposing to your ex-fiancée is a big deal.”
“You’re proposing to the woman you’ve been in love with for years. She may technically be an ex, but Kendall was always yours.” He sets his glass down. “You have a ring?”
I pull the box from my pocket and slide it across the table. Jameson opens it and whistles low at the emerald-cut diamond.
“Damn, Patty.”
“Too much?”
“Not at all.” He smiles, closes the box, then slides it back. “It’s perfect.” He leans back in the booth. “You tell Coach?”
“Yeah, weeks ago. He shook my hand and told me not to fuck it up. Then threatened me.”
“That’s basically a golden ticket from Coach Hart.” Jameson’s quiet for a moment, turning his glass in his hand. “He’s a good man.”
“He is—when he’s not a complete asshole.”
My brother meets my eyes. “Many would say the same about you.”
“Fair,” I say, lifting my glass to my lips.
He looks at me for a long moment. “You know I’ve been waiting for this. Not the proposal. This. You’re actually talking to me.”
“I know.”
“Patty, I’m always here for you.”
“I’m here for you too, Jamie. I know I’ve been a shitty brother. After the Kendall stuff and your injury, then you moving to Boston … we drifted.”
“And I fucking hate it.” He shakes his head. “You’re my other half, Patty. And you know, had you told me all those years ago that you had a thing for Kendall and didn’t leave me to speculate, I’d have ended it. For you. Because bros before hos.”
“Thank you, but also my soon-to-be fiancée isn’t a ho.”
“She’s not.” He picks up his whiskey, smirking. “I have something to tell you too.” He takes a drink.
My brows rise.
“I’m moving back to New York. Next month.”
My grin spreads so wide, and I scoot toward him. We hold each other in a tight hug.
“I’m happy for you. If you need anything from me—anything,” he stresses, “I’m here for you.”
“That goes both ways,” I offer, pulling away. “So, it won’t be awkward for you to be my best man?”
He smirks. “Nah. It’s almost like we traded places.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Please don’t remind me.”
“So, when do you plan—”
Movement near the entrance catches my eye. Addison walks in with Kendall right behind her, both of them looking way too excited. They had their first official meeting with the gallery owner about the art show that’s happening in six weeks. They spot us immediately, and are escorted over.
“I’ll keep you updated,” I say.
“Better.”
Addison slides into the booth next to Jameson and immediately reaches for his whiskey. “You will not believe the afternoon we’ve had.”
“Good or bad?” I ask.
“Great. Amazing, actually.” She takes a long sip and hands the glass back. “We gave the gallery the final list of artists. Our names are going on the marquee. It’s actually happening.”
Kendall slides in beside me, and I pull her close, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“Missed you,” she says, smelling like vanilla and paint, which means she was working before the meeting.
“Missed you more,” I tell her. “How’d it go?”
“She loves our concepts and expects to sell out of all the tickets. We’re taking the entire main floor.” Kendall’s eyes are bright with excitement. “Addison’s subway series on one side, my collection on the other. The owner believes this will be one of the biggest openings of the summer.”
“That’s incredible, babe.”
“I still can’t believe any of this is real.” She looks at me with stars in her eyes. “Everything is actually working out.”
“Of course it is,” I say, stealing another kiss. She leans into me. “I can’t wait to see it on display.”
The collection of paintings is all of her and me. It’s our shadowed faces and tangled limbs and moments she captured before either of us was brave enough to call it love. The whole city is going to walk through that gallery and see exactly what we are to each other.
“I can’t wait either,” I say, and I mean it, knowing how hard she’s been working to add paintings to it.
The server appears to take their drink orders. Wine for Kendall and whiskey for Addison.
“So,” Addison says, pointing at me, “I have a bone to pick with you.”
Jameson chuckles. “Oh, Lord.”
“What did I do now?” I ask.
“I’m actually getting pissed that you stole my best friend.”
Kendall starts laughing. “I’ve heard this all day. Enjoy.”
I make a face at my sister. “I didn’t steal her. If anything, she stole me.”
“Bullshit. With your schedule, I basically have to make appointments to see her.”
“That’s not true,” Kendall says, shaking her head.
“It’s true,” Jameson says, and Addison nods. “But then again, it’s always been like that.”
“I’m sorry?” I say sarcastically, grinning at my sister. “You’re right. But you should be mad at Ken Doll because she’s a better best friend to me than you.”
Kendall gasps. “Don’t you dare instigate this!”
Jameson chuckles. “Are you trying to start a war?”
“Yeah, are you trying to piss me off?” Addison adds.
“Okay, okay.” Kendall holds up her hands. “Can we not? I’ve been painting for fourteen hours, and I don’t have the energy to referee you two.”
Addison grins like she won. “How are playoffs going?”
“You’ve been at every game,” I tell her.
“Of course I have. No way I’m not going to be there, but I want to hear it from your own mouth, big bro,” she says.
“Great. I’m having the time of my life,” I say.
As I look around the table, I genuinely smile.
Jameson settles back in the booth. “What about you, Addy? What’s the plan after July first?”
Addison blinks. “What do you mean?”
“What do you plan to do after the gallery opening? What comes next?”
She’s quiet for a second, swirling her whiskey. “I don’t know, actually.”
“You always have a plan,” I say, watching her.
“Not this time.” There’s something lighter in her mood. “I’m going with the flow for the rest of the year. Your guess is as good as mine. I’m hoping the gallery opens new doors for me. I think I need some excitement in my life.”
Jameson reaches over and pinches her.
“Ouch, what the hell was that for?”
“Making sure you’re not a robot or something. You don’t go with the flow. Ever.”
“Maybe I’m trying something new.” She takes a drink. “I spent so long creating artwork, keeping a rigorous schedule, and being overly strategic about my career. This is the first time in years I’m creating art because I want to. That’s freeing in a way I can’t describe.”
“It is,” Kendall says with pride in her voice. “I’m proud of you.”
“It feels good.” She raises her glass. “A toast to painting our hearts out and not giving a fuck.”
Kendall clinks her wine against Addison’s whiskey. “In any order.”
Conversation drifts to the playoffs because it always does, and Jameson gives me shit about game two, where I missed an easy shot in the third period.
“It was a bad angle,” I say.
“It was an open net.”
“The goalie got lucky.”
“The goalie was on the bench for an extra attacker. There was no goalie.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I tell him with a laugh. “I already have a set of highly qualified coaches. I don’t need your two cents.”
Kendall laughs and squeezes my thigh under the table. “He’s been beating himself up about it all week.”
“As he should,” Jameson says. “That was embarrassing to the Cross name. But speaking of coaches, how are things?”
“My dad is coming around,” Kendall says. “He told an actual joke at dinner last weekend.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t repeat it.”
“Oh, tell us,” Addison says, just because she likes to go against the grain—often. Runs in the family.
“Why did the hockey player bring a ladder to the game?” Kendall pauses and looks around. “Because he wanted to play on another level.”
Jameson stares at her, then glances at me. “That’s terrible.”
“I know. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it wasn’t funny,” I say. “But I did give him a smile.”
“It was a little funny,” Kendall says.
“Dad jokes,” Addison offers.
A month ago, Coach wouldn’t even look at me. Now he’s telling dad jokes at Sunday dinner and asking about my playoff strategy. We’re not besties or anything, but we’re something. Family maybe. Or at least heading in that direction.
“Oh,” Jameson says. “Now that we’re all here, I have news.”
Addison perks up. “What kind of news? Are you dating someone?”
He makes a face at her. “I’m officially moving back to New York.”
“Officially?” Addison practically shrieks, loud enough that a few heads turn in our direction. In a place like Diamond, that’s saying something. She wraps her arms around Jameson and squeezes him so tight. “I’m so happy!”
“Boston is boring, and everyone I care about is here.” He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Moving back to my penthouse at The Park next month.”
“Jamie! This is the best news I’ve heard!” Addison nearly knocks over his drink.
“Your reactions are always the best,” he tells her, chuckling.
“That’s great! Maybe you won’t be a stranger anymore,” Kendall tells him.
“Oh, please, Ken Doll. That one gets pissed if I even look at you,” he says, pointing to me.
I narrow my eyes at him. “I don’t get pissed when you look at her. I get fucking pissed when you’re supposed to play it cool, and instead, you stick your tongue in my girlfriend’s mouth. There’s a difference,” I explain.
“Is there?” he asks, but I can tell he’s playing.
Kendall shrugs. “You don’t have to worry about that ever again.”
“Ever?” Jamie says, waggling his brows.
“Ever,” I confirm.
“So, who do I need to get with to request a plus-one for the gallery opening?” Jameson asks.
Addison raises an eyebrow. “So, you are seeing someone?”
“No. But six weeks is plenty of time to find a hot date,” he says. “Have any friends who are searching for a very attractive, charming ex-hockey player?”
Addison chuckles. “You’re very something. Charming though? That’s a stretch.”
We order two more rounds of drinks until we’re all tipsy. Kendall tries to hold back a yawn, but I know she got up at the crack of dawn this morning to start working.
“It’s Saturday night, and both of you look like you’re falling asleep,” Addison protests.
I flip her off. “I’m in the middle of the playoffs.”
“And?” Addison looks at Jamie. “Want to keep this party going?”
“Absolutely,” he says.
“I think we’re going to head out,” I tell him.
“Yes, I’m so tired,” Kendall says.
“This is what I’m talking about,” Addison says. “You stole my bestie!”
All I can do is laugh at her as our tab is being closed. The four of us walk to the door and exchange hugs on the sidewalk. Addison and Kendall whisper about something.
Jameson pulls me into a hug. “If you need anything, I’m always here for you,” he says quietly.
“Goes both ways.”
He pulls back and meets my eyes. “Don’t fuck this up.”
“I won’t.”
He claps my shoulder. “Good. Now take your girl home. She’s exhausted.”
Kendall moves toward me, and we climb into the car.
“Tonight was nice,” she says, her head on my shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I like this. All of us together.”
“It is,” I say.
The car pulls away from the curb. Through the back window, I watch Jameson and Addison walk toward a blacked-out SUV, knowing they’ll probably party all night. They’re arguing about something, and Addison playfully shoves his shoulder while he laughs.
“I love you,” she whispers, leaning into me.
“Love you,” I say, holding her close.
Kendall’s breathing slows, and within minutes, she’s asleep against me. I hold her, watching the city lights blur past the window. A smile touches my lips.
For seven years, I waited for her, and now we’re together.
Soon, she’ll be my wife.
Kendall Cross.
I fucking love the sound of that.