Chapter 19 #2
“Hold on,” I say as I set the phone down and take my sweatshirt off. Heat is running through me again, this time from embarrassment.
When I pick up the phone again, his eyes slide up and down the phone screen. He takes in the spaghetti straps of my camisole. “Oh, are we at the taking-our-clothes-off part of the conversation?” His eyes crinkle in the corners as he holds in his smile.
“I mean, we could be,” I tease, running a finger under one of the straps of my cami.
“I like that idea, a lot,” he says, as he reaches behind his neck and pulls his shirt over his head. The phone is jostled as he switches it to his other hand to get the shirt off his other arm. “So, how does this work?”
“How does what work?”
“Phone sex. I’ve never done this before.”
I love the combination of amusement and vulnerability in his voice.
“Me either.” By the look on his face, my response surprises him. “I guess we’ll figure it out together.”
“Holy crap, Petra,” Avery whispers when the kitchen door closes behind us. “A warning would have been nice. You know, something like ‘By the way, my friend Emily is a supermodel.’”
I glance up at her and there’s a bit of panic in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, it didn’t even occur to me,” I say as I hand her the tray with the glasses before grabbing the pitcher of margaritas off the counter.
“It’s already awkward enough to be in Alex Ivanov’s house watching him play hockey on TV. But hanging out with a supermodel too? That’s next-level.”
“First of all, Aleksandr’s just a normal guy whose job it is to play hockey. You’ve known him long enough that you shouldn’t feel awkward around him.”
“Petra, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of an awkward person.”
I take in her freckles and the big brown eyes behind her glasses, her light brown hair up in a bun, her black tank top front-tucked into ripped jeans with black leather slides, her wrist with gold bangles.
She’s casual and elegant and adorable. “Screw that. You are not awkward, and if you are, it obviously just adds to your charm. And also, Emily is a perfectly normal person too. She just happens to be more gorgeous than the rest of us.”
“I love that hanging out with supermodels and living in a famous hockey player’s apartment is all normal to you,” Avery laughs as she turns with the tray to head back through the butler’s pantry.
“My life is a lot less glamorous than it seems right now,” I say as I follow behind her.
Yes, I’m living in Sasha’s multimillion-dollar co-op, but this isn’t my life and I’m essentially his niece’s nanny.
But guilt niggles at the back of my mind, because as soon as my show airs, she’s going to assume I was lying about the glamourless life.
It’s going to be hard work, and that’s rarely glamorous no matter how it appears on TV.
“Uh huh,” she says as she leads the way back through the dining room. Her disbelief makes me wonder if Tom knows Sasha and I are sleeping together and told her? He is one of Sasha’s best friends, not to mention his lawyer, so it would make sense if he’d told him.
We head through the living room and into the sitting room.
There on the couch is the least glamorous version of Emily I’ve ever seen.
She has about ten small ponytails coming off her head in different directions and each has been braided.
Some have colored barrettes at the end, and some have small Stella-sized scrunchies.
She looks like one of those Barbie hair salon dolls with the big head that a six-year-old got their hands on.
I laugh so hard I almost spill our drinks. How did Stella manage this in the few minutes we were in the kitchen? “I need a picture of you and Stella together,” I tell her. “This needs to be documented.”
Because she never takes herself too seriously, Emily happily poses for the photo. When I show it to Avery, I make sure to whisper, “See, totally normal.”
We settle in on the couch and chairs right as the pregame show ends and the players return to the bench from their on-ice warm-up.
Sasha isn’t on the ice for the face-off, but he’s jumping over the boards and into the play only a minute into the game.
I watch as Avery explains the logistics of hockey line switches to Emily, telling her why they’re so frequent and how they know who is coming in and out of the game.
She knows more than I do about the sport, and I grew up at the hockey rink watching my brother and Sasha play.
“How do you know so much about hockey?” I ask her.
“I used to play.”
I’m sure my eyes are as wide as Emily’s. “Really?”
“Yeah, I was on my high school team, and I played on our intramural team in college.”
“I’ve never known a female hockey player,” Emily says cautiously, “but I guess I envisioned them being bigger and tougher than you appear.”
“Some are.” She shrugs. “But like most women, hockey players come in all shapes and sizes. The important thing is how agile you are on skates, how much stamina you have, and that you’re not afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” I ask.
“Anything. The puck, the other players, getting knocked on your”—her eyes track to Stella—“butt.”
I’d say Avery’s body is average. She’s probably five foot six and one hundred and thirty pounds, with smaller breasts and a slim waist. She does seem athletic, but the thought of her being checked up against the boards or knocked over on the ice is alarming.
“Do you still play?” I ask.
“No, but I teach a learn to skate hockey program specifically for girls on Sunday mornings.”
“Really?” Stella says, taking her eyes off the game for the first time since it came on. “I want to take lessons with you!”
“Don’t you already know how to skate?” I ask her. I’ve seen figure skates in her closet.
“Yeah, but only with those white skates for girls. I want to learn how to be fast on hockey skates. I want to skate like Dyadya.”
Emily and Avery look at me, and I mouth Uncle so they know she’s talking about Aleksandr.
“I want to surprise him,” Stella adds. “Petra, will you help me surprise him?”
I want so badly to say yes. To tell her we’ll set up times for her to have lessons with Avery while her uncle is out of town, so that when his season is over, she can surprise him with her new skating abilities.
I want to take her to buy new skates, be there for her lessons, see the surprise on Sasha’s face when he sees her in hockey skates. But I can’t.
“I wish I could, honey. But you know I’m leaving in a couple days, right?”
The hopeful look on her face falls, and it’s replaced by a look that tells me I’ve just crushed her hopes and dreams. It about breaks my cold, dead heart because it’s real and raw and I hate disappointing her like this.
“But,” I continue, “how about I take you to buy a pair of skates after school tomorrow, and I’ll set it up with Raina so she can take you to some lessons with Avery. Then maybe we can surprise your uncle when I come back in a few weeks?”
Stella nods her agreement but doesn’t say anything. Then she gets up from her seat next to Emily on the couch and crosses to my chair, curling up in my lap with her arms wrapped around my neck and her head on my chest.
Over her head, I look at Avery. “Can we arrange that?”
“Of course,” she says, but even she looks sad. Emily looks disappointed. I feel like shit. This is officially the worse playoff viewing party ever.
We watch the rest of the first period, and when it ends with New York in the lead by one goal, I take Stella to bed. She’s tired and emotional and gives me a long hug. “I really wish you didn’t have to go,” she says.
I pause for a moment, resisting the urge to give her the reply that I’d normally make in circumstances like these. Instead of telling her I have obligations and explaining how work comes first, I tell her the truth. “I wish I could stay too. But I can’t.”
To her credit, she doesn’t beg me to stay or even ask why.
She accepts my leaving as inevitable, which only makes me feel that much worse.
I promised myself I wasn’t going to let her get too close because I didn’t want to hurt her by leaving.
I didn’t want her to have to experience losing another person she cared about. And I’ve failed at that too.
When I return to the living room, Emily has taken her hair out of the braids and she and Avery have their heads together looking at Avery’s phone.
I love seeing them getting to know each other because I love connecting people like this, building a web of friends.
And that’s what this would be, if I were staying in New York.