Chapter 8
~Daley~
The bar. The cab ride. The hotel room.
Deacon.
As soon as he crosses my mind, I’m aware of the solid arm beneath me and the steady, rhythmic breathing coming from the large mass of man beside me.
So, he is real. Good to know. It would have been horribly disappointing to realize it had all been a dream.
Gingerly, I pull back the covers and slip out of the bed, careful not to wake him as I tuck the covers back in around him. He lets out what sounds like a long sigh, but his breathing resumes its normal rhythm afterwards, showing no sign that he’s conscious.
On the other hand, I’m wide awake, fully naked, and needing to pee.
Besides the bathroom in the bedroom, there’s another one off the living area of the suite, so I take quiet, careful steps out of the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind me before I gather up my clothes still strewn across the living room floor and duck into the spacious, gleaming bathroom.
The mirror reflects a woman I only barely recognize.
Somehow, nineteen years have passed since the last time I left a man’s bed feeling like the world had completely changed around me.
For a moment, I can almost glimpse the young woman I was then, full of certainty about things I shouldn’t have been certain of, but when I blink, she’s gone, and the older and wiser version of me has returned.
This time, I can appreciate what happened for what it is: a wonderful one-off night that has no future beyond this moment, but the memory of which I’ll treasure forever.
Without any of my make-up or hair products available, I do the best I can to make myself presentable after re-dressing in last night’s outfit.
The ‘walk of shame’ must be a common ritual in Las Vegas so I’m not too worried about any sideways glances I might get, especially since I’m not ashamed of last night.
I had a damn good time, and I’m pretty sure Deacon did too. I definitely don’t regret it.
On the desk in the living room, I find paper and a pen and leave a short note of thanks and goodbye before taking another minute or two to admire the stunning view out of the hotel window.
Even at almost five in the morning, the lights of Vegas continue to glow brightly, and plenty of people still fill the open space in front of the hotel.
They say New York is the city that never sleeps, but Las Vegas must be a close second.
Taxis are waiting outside the hotel entrance, and I make it back to my own hotel room without running into River or his friends, which would have been the only thing to ruin this night for me. A perfect crime, I think, as I head into my shower and start my day properly.
Except the only thing criminal about last night is the fact that I may never have sex that good again.
It’s almost eleven by the time River and his friends knock on my door.
“Hey, Mom.” My son’s aftershave hits me as he leans down to kiss my cheek. For some reason, it’s always the aftershave that makes me a little sentimental, reminding me of the fact that my little boy is not so little anymore. “Is there still time for breakfast downstairs? We’re starving.”
“What else is new?” I tease, but it’s no joke. Without the sponsorships he has, I don’t know how I would have afforded to keep him fed, let alone all the costs that come with his hockey career. Small towns are good for rallying behind one of their own, and we lucked out that way.
We’re lucky in so many ways.
“The hotel breakfast is over, but I already found a place nearby that does all-day brunch. You can all fill up there.”
The four of us walk the short distance down the strip to the large chain restaurant, and I don’t miss the way young women stop and stare at River as we go.
His height naturally draws attention, and his T-shirt shows off the muscles he’s worked hard to develop this year.
He has my naturally wavy blond hair with his father’s brown eyes rather than my green ones.
He’s still got a few spots of teenage acne that betray his youth but that doesn’t seem to deter any of the women who crane their necks for a better look.
Brayden and Jonny, on the other hand, are much more average-looking 18-year-olds.
Neither of them quite hit six feet tall and although neither of them is unattractive, no one seems to notice them next to River.
Thankfully, my son’s childhood best friends don’t let the attention River gets dissuade them from staying friends with him, or from keeping his ego in check whenever he needs to be taken down a peg or two.
I’m grateful to these boys, and just as fond of them as they are of me.
“Did you stay out late last night, D?” Brayden teases me when we’re all seated at a table for four, River barely fitting into the wooden chair across from me.
“Of course I did. Hit the male strip clubs after you all went to bed,” I deadpan.
Brayden and Jonny howl with laughter, clearly finding the idea of me in any kind of sexual situation unthinkable, while I open my menu, trying not to blush at the memory of what I actually spent last night doing.
River, meanwhile, shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “You didn’t really, did you? By yourself?”
“Of course not.” I give my sweet, protective son a reassuring smile before swiftly changing the subject. “What are you having?”
After ordering nearly half the menu, the three boys regale me with stories of the things they saw on their exploration of the Strip the night before.
Although River has been all over the country with his major junior team, between training, games, travel and schoolwork, he doesn’t usually have a lot of time for sightseeing.
Being here in Vegas with his friends is a real treat for him, and I love seeing his face bright with excitement and good humour as they trade reminiscences.
It might be the last ‘normal’ moment he gets for a long time if tonight goes the way we hope it will.
It’s almost two o’clock by the time we get back to the hotel, and I send them back to their room to get ready for the reason we’re here in Las Vegas: the first night of the NHL draft.
All the league’s teams are in town to take their pick between the top 18-to-20-year-old prospects from around the world, and as unbelievable as it feels sometimes, my son is on that list.
Whether or not River will get drafted tonight is still very much up in the air.
It’s only the first round tonight, and although he’s one of the best defencemen in his age group, only 30% of first-round draft picks go to defence.
It’ll depend on what the individual teams are looking for and who gets snapped up before him.
If it doesn’t happen tonight, he’ll be picked up in the second or third round tomorrow, I have no doubt, but being selected at the big kick-off event tonight would be a dream come true for him.
For me, it’s a hard balance between seeing him through my rose-tinted Mom glasses, where he can do no wrong, and being realistic about his chances.
Every time we talk about it, I do my best to prepare him to accept whatever happens, but deep down, I want this for him so badly, I can taste it.
I didn’t know anything about hockey until River started playing and I’m still far from an expert. River doesn’t care. He needs me to be his mom and his cheerleader, not his manager, and that role, I can definitely play.
When I think they’ve had enough time to get ready, I knock on River’s door. “You need any help in there?”
Jonny opens the door and tugs me inside. “Thank God you’re here, D. Tell him the tie he has on looks fine. He’s been trying to decide for 20 minutes.”
The situation quickly becomes clear: River stands in front of the mirror with a tie on and one in each hand, holding them up as he tries to decide between them. Another half-dozen ties lie scattered on the bed, all of them once belonging to his great-grandfather.
When his eyes meet mine through the mirror, for just a moment, I can see the little boy looking up at me with big, uncertain eyes before his first hockey game.
Just like I did then, I put a hand on my son’s shoulder and turn him towards me, but now, I’m reaching up instead of down. “The silver one,” I declare, leaving no room for argument as I take the ties from his hand. “Take the red one off.”
His shoulders slump in relief as he pulls off the tie and I thread the silver one around his neck instead, tying it like I used to before he could reliably get the knot right himself.
“There. Perfect.” I give his lapels a pat before taking a step back and surveying him from head-to-toe. He looks like he’s ready for graduation in his suit, and in a way, he is. This is his big step into adulthood and the career he’s always wanted.
“Don’t cry,” he warns just as the tears begin to pool in my eyes.
“Then stop looking so grown up!” I shoot back, making all three boys smile. “All right, let’s go. Taxis are downstairs, we can grab one to the arena.”
The boys head out of the room, chatting animatedly about what the night ahead will bring, while I take one last, bittersweet look around the room and the chaos they’ve left behind. Things are changing so fast, and all I can do is hold on for the ride.