Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jack
I grunt in annoyance at the sight of my dad’s name and number showing up on my phone.
I just sat down at a booth in the restaurant Maggie picked for lunch today, having ordered for both of us.
I convinced her to send me her order ahead of time so we wouldn’t have to waste time waiting in line, and I was just picking up my phone to text her where I’m sitting when my dad called.
Sighing, I wait. If I send him to voicemail, he’ll know I have my phone in my hand, and that’ll just make him call back instead of leaving a voicemail. I don’t really want to talk to him in general, but I especially don’t want to talk to him right now.
After what feels like forever, it finally sends him to voicemail and I can text Maggie.
As soon as I’m done, an alert pops up with a garbled transcription of his message.
The phone transcription doesn’t work well with his slightly Francophone accent.
He swears up and down that he doesn’t speak French anymore, but I know he grew up speaking it as a child.
When he was around six, my grandfather took a job that meant moving to the Anglophone part of Toronto, so he grew up speaking English too.
One day, the story goes, he decided to answer in English anytime they spoke to him in French, and he hasn’t spoken French since.
His accent isn’t particularly obvious, but there are a few words that definitely have a French flavor to them, and the automatic transcription on phones always does funny things with those.
Of course, the gist of the message is clear, even with the incorrect word here and there.
“What’s this about you dating a woman? Why am I learning about it from people talking on the internet?
Don’t you have enough respect for your father to tell me yourself?
Why do you think you need to date anyway? Women are nothing but …”
God, I don’t even want to read the rest of that, much less listen to it.
I knew this day would come, but I’ve been putting it off for as long as possible. Soon, I’ll have to call and deal with my father’s ire.
What does he care anyway? Like Connor reminded me, I’ve already achieved the major dreams I had.
Sure, I want to win a Stanley Cup and win gold at the Olympics.
But I’m a professional hockey player. I don’t need to worry about a girlfriend distracting me so much that I can’t play. I’ve made it. I’m playing.
And so what if I’ve let myself get so wrapped up in … whatever I’ve been doing with Maggie that I haven’t told anyone? That was before …
Before we kissed. Before it started turning into more than just for show. Before there was really anything to tell.
When my phone alerts again, I let out an audible groan. Fucking people won’t just leave me alone.
But this time it’s Molly with the Emerald’s PR team.
Molly
Been seeing some interesting stories about you lately. It’s getting big enough that it seems like we might need to address the rumors. I have some time around 3 pm to talk on the phone. Call me then.
Sounds good
I could beg off and try to postpone that phone call, but I don’t have a reason for it, and Molly only wants what’s best for me.
Well, she really wants what’s best for the team, but in this instance—as in most—those two goals are aligned.
The fact that she didn’t call and leave an angry voicemail is a good sign, too.
At least Molly’s not pissed off about me dating someone and not telling her about it.
“Hey!” Maggie says from next to me, and I turn, smiling at the sight of her and standing to greet her.
“Hey, Maggie.” I loosely wrap an arm around her and give her a kiss on the cheek.
She returns the hug, but when she pulls away she looks flustered, her cheeks pinker than normal.
I can’t help smiling in amusement. We kissed on the lips just a few days ago, and a kiss on the cheek has her all flustered?
That’s adorable.
Dumping her oversized tote bag down on the booth, she drops next to it with a sigh. “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this.”
I give her a curious look. “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment because you were so excited to see me or an indication of how bad your morning’s been.”
She laughs lightly. “How about both?” Leaning one elbow on the table, she drops her chin in her hand, looking at me with a mixture of irritation and amusement on her face.
“It’s been pretty much a shitshow this morning.
Brock’s had cancellations plus he still hasn’t hired an assistant, so he’s pissy and bitchy and there’s no one to run interference for me, and he wants me to call these places back and do damage control.
” She shakes her head. “Which is so far outside of my job description it’s not even funny, and he’s trying to tell me that it relates to social media somehow.
Arguing with him is stupid, but I’m not calling people back and begging them to come on the show.
Especially when—” She cuts off, clamping her lips together and looking down, shaking her head again.
“Anyway.” She meets my eyes again. “Enough about my asshole of a boss.” She grins, wide and genuinely happy.
“This is the bright spot of my work day. I’m glad you suggested it. ”
Passing her sandwich to her, I smile back. “My pleasure. I’m glad you could make it work, and I’m happy I can help make your day better just by existing.”
Chuckling, she takes the sandwich. “Seriously, Jack. This is amazing. Thank you so much for getting my sandwich already. I’m starving.”
Conversation turns to more innocuous topics—she tells me stories about playing basketball with her son and the fun plans he has with his grandparents this weekend—and I’m listening and telling stories about doing similar things when I was a kid, enjoying her telling me her own stories about herself as well as about her son, but the whole time I’m wondering if the reason guests are canceling is because of the hit piece he released about me.
I hope so. For several reasons—specifically that it damages his reputation and also it means that people know that the piece about me isn’t based on truth.
The only concern I have is whether or not that might affect Maggie’s job, other than in the obvious way she’s already described. If enough people cancel, will he be able to afford to keep paying Maggie?
Part of me hopes he gets run out of business. But I also don’t want to wish for Maggie to lose her job. I want her to find a new job on her own because she’s tired of his bullshit, and then he should be forced to shut down.
Yes. That would be perfect.
Maggie’s chuckling, and I realize I missed the last thing she said because I was too much in my head—and thinking about her asshole boss, no less.
I’m starting to understand what she means when she says that she doesn’t want to think about him when she’s not at work because he ruins enough of her life as it is.
Not in those words, exactly, but that’s the idea I get from it at least.
“Anyway,” she says, waving a hand airily and taking a drink from her soda, and part of me wants to ask what I missed because I feel like an asshole for not listening, but I also don’t want to look like an asshole. She has enough assholes in her life. I don’t need to be another one.
She plops her chin in her hand again and studies me for a moment. “So,” she says, the word a punctuation mark closing off the last topic, whatever it was. “This weekend’s coming up fast.”
I dip my chin in a nod. “Day after tomorrow.” My pulse picks up at the prospect of spending time with her again—more time than this.
No pressure to get back to work whisking her away long before I’m ready.
She’s been checking her phone every so often—discreetly, but still. I know she has a time limit.
If we kissed last weekend, what could this weekend bring?
“Any thoughts on what we might do?”
Leaning forward, I prop both elbows on the table, steeple my hands in front of my mouth, and arch an eyebrow. “I thought our agreement was that you pick what you want to do.”
She meets my arched eyebrow with one of her own. “I thought we’d sort of progressed beyond the bounds of our original agreement.” She cocks her head to the side. “Or did I misinterpret the events and conversations of last weekend?”
Unable to suppress my grin, I shake my head. “No. I don’t think you misinterpreted anything. But I still want to take you to do whatever you want. I could see if there’s another baseball game in town.”
She shakes her head. “They’re on the road this weekend.”
“There’s a minor league team nearby, isn’t there? I’m sure we could find a baseball game of some level somewhere.”
Laughing, she shakes her head. “If us going to a professional game made the news, what do you think would happen if we went to like an adult rec league softball game.” She’s practically cackling at the thought, and I laugh along with her.
“Honestly, I doubt we’d get that much attention. Maybe a few people would recognize me and ask for my autograph, but I could wear a hat and some sunglasses. No one would expect me to be there. We’d probably be entirely left alone.”
Her laughter subsides, but she’s still smiling. “I suppose that’s true. Don’t you want us to be seen together, though? I mean, that was the whole point of you taking me out every weekend.”
“Originally.” I add, though that’s not entirely true either. “And it wasn’t the whole point. It was just part of the reasons I gave you.”
She narrows her eyes at me, her lips still curved in a slight smile. “Okay, fine. Still, though. It’s working, isn’t it? I know people are talking about us.”
I’m not sure if it’s something in her voice or what, but that has me drawing my brows together. “Wait. What happened?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing.” A sigh. “It’s nothing, really. Just … Brock mentioned that he’d seen an article about the two of us.”
“Is he giving you trouble over it?” That hadn’t occurred to me before. Why would her boss have trouble with her dating me anyway? Or dating anyone? As long as she continues doing her job, why should he care about her romantic life?
She shakes her head, but her expression isn’t convincing. “Seriously. It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry about Brock. I know how to handle him.”
Of all the things she said, the last one is what I believe the most. If he said something, it’s some kind of deal. But I believe that she knows how to handle him. “Okay. Fine. But if you need anything from me where he’s concerned …”
She rolls her eyes. “I won’t, but I appreciate the thought. So. Back to this weekend.”
“While I don’t mind if people see us and we get talked about, it’s never been my goal to force us into the public eye. The ball game last weekend is because I knew you’d like it. The press coverage wasn’t something I considered at all.”
“Okay. So … parks and rec league softball? And concession stand snacks for dinner?” She laughs when I wrinkle my nose.
“Okay. What else?” Picking up her phone, she scowls at the screen.
“Fuck,” she whispers, then looks at me. “I’m sorry.
I thought I could extend my lunch a little bit today, especially after the morning I had, but Brock seems to be having a meltdown and I need to get back.
Call me later, though? We can figure out our plans for Friday after Liam’s in bed tonight. ”
“I can handle that,” I say, standing along with her. When she moves to pick up her trash, I wave her off. “I’ll take care of that. C’mere.” Standing next to our booth, I hold out my arms, wanting a real hug.
She seems to hesitate for half a second, then steps into my embrace, her hands reaching behind my shoulder blades and clinging to my shirt like I’m some kind of lifeline for her. And hell, based on her description of her morning, maybe I am.
What is it about this woman that rouses every one of my latent protective instincts? I hate that I have to release her to go back to a man who I know treats her poorly. I’d hate it anyway, but knowing that douchebag’s on the heels of her deadbeat ex …
I want to go punch his teeth in. For me. For her. For people everywhere who’ve had to deal with his brand of smug, entitled, assholery for far too long.
She lets out a heavy sigh, pulling back and looking up at me.
I brush a soft kiss over her lips before releasing her. “I’ll talk to you tonight,” I murmur, stepping back.
Her lips part like she wants to say something, but at the last second she just nods. “Thanks again, Jack,” she whispers, then she grabs her bag and disappears.