Chapter 10
Elise – Winning
Iwake up in a sweat, my heart racing, my legs tangled in the sheets.
I reach beside me for Jax, but he’s not here.
The marathon session of lovemaking was only a dream.
A fantastically hot dream. I’m so physically attracted to him, but it’s probably for the best that we haven’t slept together.
His friendship means more to me than having sex.
And honestly, there’s a little voice inside telling me that I might lose myself again if I surrender to him completely.
I need to guard my heart carefully, as well as my body and soul.
That doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep fantasizing about those lips and that beard going down on me, but a girl can take care of that herself.
Meanwhile, Jax and I have fallen into a comfortable pattern of sharing meals and conversations, further strengthening our emotional bond.
And we’re having so much fun acting like rabid hockey fans at the games!
I now know the words to every chant, cheer, and insult yelled out during games and have a full wardrobe of team attire.
The atmosphere in West Palm is electric as the Blades have secured a playoff position, despite Jax’s absence from the ice.
I know it’s bittersweet for him to be watching from the sidelines, and I’m committed to being there for him, listening when he needs to talk.
For now, it’s time to get up and start fueling myself with caffeine, as it’s going to be a long day of preparation and a big night.
Not only is there hockey, tonight is also the debut of my final piece at the arena.
It’s much more involved than the tunnel project for the players.
This installation is an immersive experience, where all visitors to the arena can walk through a glacier-like corridor with living plants visible within ice walls, symbolizing resilience and adaptation.
If it shows well, it could become a permanent display.
I’m especially nervous because the media will be here, not to report out on hockey, but to publicize my work.
It’s a good thing I’m not handling any tools today.
I don’t think my hands have stopped shaking since Shay told me earlier that one of the top international art publications with a connection to the Ottawa fellowship will be there, and they’ll most likely want an interview.
My phone buzzes on the bedside table and I pick it up to see a text from Jax.
Good morning, Princess. Looking forward to your big night tonight!
His thoughtfulness puts a smile on my face. It feels good to have his encouragement and to know that he truly is interested in my career.
Since tonight is a special night at the arena, Desirae helped me choose an appropriate outfit for the occasion.
I’m wearing a long-sleeved black knit dress with a gold pashmina wrap for extra warmth and black leather boots with a slight heel.
Warm, functional, and professional. I’m also treating my hair to a blow out and touching up my face with a little bit of glam makeup, which I typically only do on special occasions.
I look out at the crowd assembled for my presentation, searching for Jax.
Press, dignitaries, art critics, West Palm society, and arena management are gathered around.
I finally see him standing on the sidelines, outside of the spotlight, offering silent encouragement.
Hopefully my nervousness isn’t showing as I explain the work process and the design to the visitors.
I pause for questions, looking again over at Jax, who gives me a subtle wink of encouragement.
It’s enough to bolster my confidence, which is a good thing, because a news reporter poses a question, not about my work, but about my relationship with Jax.
Just as I helped Jax in the past to deflect intrusive questions, I don’t confirm or deny anything personal.
“Tonight’s about demonstrating the beauty of ice as art. I’m happy to answer any questions you have about that or my work.”
Later, after the visitors, the cameras, and the press all depart, I’m left standing alone in the lobby near the display with Jax.
“You did great tonight. I’m so proud of you.” He gives me a sweet kiss on the cheek. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
My heart is so full from the evening’s event, I can’t possibly imagine what else could be coming. “What is it?”
He extends an arm. “Right this way.”
Jax escorts me to the team area and through the tunnel, then out to the ice where the Fanboni is idling. He stands before me and takes a bow. “Your chariot awaits, my princess.”
I gasp in delight. “Oh my gosh! I’ve been wanting to ride this ever since I saw it at the first game!”
Whoever had the idea to rename the Zamboni ice resurfacing vehicle the Fanboni, and allow hockey fans to ride it around the rink while it repairs the ice between playing periods, is a freaking genius. It’s the most sought after fan experience in all of hockey.
Jax nods to Charlie, the driver, and offers a hand to help me up onto the vehicle.
I take a seat in the rear as Jax boards and hands me a gorgeous bouquet of roses that he apparently stashed on board earlier.
He sits down and puts an arm around me, then covers us with a blanket to offer a little more warmth in the chilly environment.
It actually feels much colder out here now with the solitude of the ice and the lights off than it does when the arena is full of people with body heat and bright lights.
The quiet hum of the vehicle purrs like a kitten as we begin our slow procession around the rink.
I curl in to Jax’s side, taking in the comfort and solitude.
“Are you happy, Elise?”
In this moment, I truly am. Coming off of a stellar career event, and celebrating quietly with a man who’s proven to be patient, supportive, and thoughtful. “Yes. Thank you for doing this.”
“Thank you. For being supportive of me. For listening when I need someone to talk to. And for being yourself. I’ve never met anyone like you before.
You’re unique. Talented. Beautiful. And amazing.
I know I’m not the greatest with words, but I know what I feel.
And what I am feeling for you is…love. I love you, Elise. ”
Say what? Did I really hear those words?
It’s as if everything comes to a screeching halt, even though the Fanboni is still smoothly circling the rink.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry or pinch myself to see if I’m dreaming.
This wonderful man just said the words that any woman in her right mind would love to hear.
But is it too good to be true? Am I living in a fantasy world where a man might give up his career for mine?
Can we figure out how to balance competing priorities and actually have a chance at a relationship, rather than one of us having to give up our dreams?
My head is spinning, and I feel his body tense when I don’t immediately respond.
My head is a jumble of thoughts, and before I can compose them into a coherent reply, I blurt out something that I haven’t yet had the courage to tell him.
“I need to be in Ottawa in four weeks. Most likely right in the middle of playoffs.”