Chapter 16
LEAH
It’s time to take matters into my own hands. First, I have to air my grievances.
While Mirin and Branch have their weekly beard waxing ceremony while smudging the kitchen with sage and playing steel drums, I reply to Hudson’s last email. My weird roommates are the least of my problems.
I have to funnel this angst somewhere. Things have gotten complicated!
from:
to: Hudson Roboveitchek
date: Sept 23, 11:29 PM
subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Revenge bedtime procrastination
Dear Toad Slime,
You’re like a terrible pun. A joke told without a punchline.
A wish forgotten and unfulfilled. Next time you’re in public, if the person in front of you lets the door slam in your face, I hope it makes your nose feel like you swallowed spicy saltwater.
Then, when you’re at a work party, you have an allergic reaction and break out into hives.
Ooh. Even better. I hope the hives don’t come until you’re in full goalie gear, so that way you can’t scratch them.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to go to the doctor, but I had urgent care on speed dial while I watched your game.
You stink.
Actually, I bet you literally stink in all that gear and have such bad breath you scare away pretty ladies and children. Dogs too. Maybe someday I’ll reveal my identity to you. In the meantime, just know that there’s someone out there wishing you ill.
Until then, have a miserable day!
And good luck figuring out who I am, sucker!
Coldest regards,
Your Secret Adversary
I click send when I realize I changed the sign-off line. Whoops. Though I suppose it doesn’t matter. There’s no way for him to figure out my identity.
That night, sleep is an elusive thing while Mirin and Branch play Jenga with their friends—instead of wood blocks, they’re using their actual friends—Lloyd snores like a chop saw that repeatedly hits a knot in the wood, and Julius Cheeser’s kingdom wages a battle against an envoy of termites.
If I were getting married, which I’m not, I would entertain moving home for a while to save money and make planning easier.
Also, to sleep a little more, not that I’m complaining.
I wanted my independence and I got it, by Jove!
Who’s Jove, anyway? I’m about to look it up online when I get distracted by a lively social media debate about pizza toppings.
It’s midnight, munchy hour, after all. The best and worst two are pineapple and anchovies.
The next day, I practically crawl into Cobbiton on fumes for Gracie’s weekly Tuesday morning coffee and tea tasting with a BYOB policy.
As in bring your own baked goods, which include but are not limited to pastries, muffins, and scones.
Much like my family, the girls bring the treats.
Whit has cookies, Jess has Bundt cakes, Cara brought oatmeal raisin bars, and Ella made muffins that resemble, dare I say, hockey pucks.
Everyone in town is invited, but mostly, it’s a version of our book club, minus the paperbacks and ebooks. Occasionally, Sophia Snodgrass-Schuster shows up when the gossip around town is especially juicy.
I anticipate her rolling through the door any moment.
When we settle in on the assortment of cozy chairs and at the bistro tables, Gracie asks, “So, how are figure skating lessons going?”
I glance around, hoping none of the local nosy nellies are hiding behind a bookshelf.
“It’s silly because obviously Hudson already knows how to skate.”
Heidi raises and lowers her eyebrows. “Do elaborate.”
“I mean, he gets it. His power pulls are precise and the mechanics of his mohawk turns are solid. The guy can hold his edges.”
“How about laywoman’s terms? I only recently made it across the rink without bruising my butt,” Jess says.
“I think Leah’s saying she likes the way Robo moves.”
I scowl as I sink my teeth into a cinnamon butterscotch chip scone.
“How are the wedding plans coming?” Jess asks.
I gawk. “There won’t be a wedding of any sort.”
“The rumors are true? Robo asked you to marry him?” Delaney flurries in on a gust of ever-crisper autumn air.
Cara asks, “Didn’t you once have a crush on him?”
“That was Hunter.” I pout. “Cara, I thought you and I were best friends.”
Jess taps the air. “I thought it was the other brother.”
“There’s another Robo?” Emerson peels off her coat.
“Not you, too.” I cover my face with my hand.
Emerson asks, “Is he single?”
“What about Jett?”
“Until he puts a ring on it …” She wiggles her fingers.
“That’s a terrible personal policy.”
She pretends to slam dunk a basketball … among a bunch of hockey wives. “I don’t make the rules. I’m just available until he decides to make me a married woman. Unless he doesn’t …” She trails off and I make a mental note to discuss Jett with her later.
Waving my hands like I’m calling off a wedding, I say, “Listen. This is a fiasco.”
“The real dilemma is what kind of cake you’re going to have. I know, it’s the plight of brides everywhere. Sorry I’m late.” Margo sits down on the floor with a mug of tea.
“If this gets back to Mrs. Gormely …”
Whit says, “She already knows. Mr. Gormely asked me about it when we were adding a banner for the Milk Mustache to the back of the trolley the other day. Nancy Linderberg is wondering if this means you’re canceling the Happy Hockey Days event next January.”
“Absolutely not. There is no—” But I’m afraid if I finish that sentence with the word wedding, I’ll mess something up for Hudson’s career or my parents. This needs to be handled carefully, preferably with a PR professional. I’ll talk to Chuck.
Gracie, a sucker for love stories even though she’s married to her very own knight in shining armor, leans in expectantly. “So tell us about this high school crush.”
They pester me until I break. And I can’t eat any more cookies, otherwise I’m going to have a blood sugar attack, so I say, “There’s not much of a story. Growing up, I was best friends with Hunter Roboveitchek.”
Ella bunches up her shoulders. “Aw. Young love? It started all the way back then?”
Cara corrects, “No, she’s talking about Robo’s twin, Hunter.”
“Are they identical twins?” Emerson asks.
“They were close enough,” Heidi says.
The more I think about it, the more distinctions I see between the two of them, at least in my memory.
“Had you asked me at the time, I would’ve adamantly denied the crush, especially when I learned it was unrequited.”
“But what about the other brother? The one who plays for the Knights now? Who came into the Fish Bowl last week?” Emerson asks.
“Her fiancé,” Whit says unhelpfully.
I shrug. “I thought of him as rude, snobby, arrogant ...” And I’m his secret adversary.
“What did he do?”
“My parents would invite him to family barbecues and stuff. I always believed he declined because he thought he was too good for us. But he recently told me Hunter told him not to come.”
“I saw you two at the anniversary party. You looked mighty cozy,” Cara says.
“I thought you were on my team.”
“Looks like our girl Leah found her great hockey romance,” Ella adds.
I will, just not with him, but I’m afraid to expose the truth. My loyalty is to my family first. The joke Hudson made about this being a pickle is true. I giggle.
Gracie does too. “I know that sound. You’re thinking about him.”
“No, I’m thinking about dill.”
“The cooking herb?” Delaney asks.
Emerson waggles her eyebrows. “So tell us more about Love Candy on Legs.”
My cheeks turn pink.
“They look so good together, right?” Jess declares it as an irrefutable statement of fact.
The others agree.
“I’m afraid I’m not his type,” I admit mostly because this whole thing is arranged and not a love story like my parents, even though they’re the culprits behind the nonsense I’m living out in real time.
Heidi winks. “What do you mean? I saw the way he looked at you when we were at the Fish Bowl not long ago.”
“He usually dates petite women.”
She is immediately on her phone, scrolling social media. “I can verify or debunk this.”
“My hair isn’t sure whether it wants to be straight or curly,” I say as if this would be a legitimate reason not to date someone.
“But you have so much of it.”
Margo smiles. “The blonde looks great, but you also make a beautiful brunette.”
“People pay a lot of money for hair like yours,” Jess says.
“I’m taller than roughly seventy-five percent of women.”
“We all wish we were as tall as you.”
“You do realize that Liam constantly teases me about my stature.” Jess’s smile suggests her affection for the guy despite this.
“But he loves you.”
“Robo loves you.”
They cut off my squawking laughter with examples as if that were somehow true.
Emerson says, “He has deliciously dark lashes, lush lips, and—”
“Then you marry him.”
“I’m holding out for Jett.”
“Then why were you asking if there’s another Robo?” Thinking of some of the things Hunter used to say to me, I add, “I have an athletic figure and guys prefer—”
Cara, finally stepping up to bat and taking my side, says, “Don’t talk about my best friend that way.”
Shifting tack, I carefully say, “He and I don’t always get along.
” But I’m not sure if I’m talking about Hunter or Hudson.
The past and the present meld together, getting blurry.
Or it could be the fatigue combined with overconsumption of caffeine and sugar.
The more I let myself think about it, the more I wonder why I had a crush on Hunter.
“You mean you two banter? It’s part of the fun.” Delaney presses her lips together, forcing back a smile.
But we do it more than I do with my own siblings. Actually, we’ve grown out of bickering for the most part.
Gathering my bag, I say, “Guys, I have to go to work.”
“You mean you’ve finally gotten what you always wanted and now you’re unsure,” Cara says.
I lift a shoulder. Gracie plants her hand there and passes me a book. “Read this and call me in the morning.”
I stuff the novel in my bag and head over to O’Neely’s, once again feeling like the best course of action would be to hide behind Sir Goalwain the Green Knight Gretzky.