Chapter 21 #2
That actually gives me a thrill. “I hope so. Tell them all they can send in ideas, too. This isn’t just my show.”
“You’re so good at it, though,” Ingrid says. “I mean, we’ve been working on all of this stuff for a while now. I think we all understood the basic concept. But bringing it all together tonight, and actually performing, really made it real.”
“Playing,” Alex interjects.
Everybody looks at him.
“What?” Ingrid asks.
“We were playing hockey tonight. Not performing.”
She waves her hand. “Tomato tomah-toh. But really, it was more of a performance, don’t you think?”
Alex looks at me, and I can tell he’s thinking, yes, it was, and it’s all your fault.
I just grin at him.
“So you’re all fine with it?” he asks, looking directly at Lawson. “Nobody’s frustrated? We don’t need to talk about anything that went wrong? Anything that was confusing or chaotic?”
Of course, he uses his favorite word.
Everyone shakes their heads, and Zeke sets his fork down, his plate clean.
He starts to dig for his wallet, but I stop him. “It’s all on the house.”
Zeke gives me a smile. “You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s not like you’re all making millions playing here. I think we can throw in pie once in a while.”
“But we could make a lot more,” Beckett says. “If this catches on, we could get sponsorships and all kinds of stuff. When we fill up that arena, money is gonna be pouring in.”
Alex sighs but doesn’t say anything. I don’t say anything either, but I want to say, “Damn right.”
“Do you want something to eat?” I ask him.
“Sure. Just… bring me something. Anything.”
I love that answer. I actually have a surprise for him. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”
I gather up the used dishes and head into the kitchen. I have stored my surprise in the refrigerator, planning to give it to him before he goes up to his apartment. I grab it, unwrap it, and grab a spoon.
Back at the table, I set it down in front of him.
“Oh, man,” Beckett moans when he sees it.
“I didn’t know that was an option!” Teddy protests.
“It wasn’t,” I say with a wink. “This is just for Alex.”
Teddy slumps on his stool. “Damn my love for dick. I don’t think I can do the things to you that got Alex that pudding.”
Everyone laughs.
Except Alex. When I look at him again, he’s staring at the bowl in front of him with a pained expression. When he looks up and meets my gaze, he tries to cover his horror, but I see it.
I frown. “It’s banana pudding.”
He nods. “I figured.”
“Wait, you don’t like banana pudding?”
“I don’t… I’ve never had it.”
I narrow my eyes and look at Beckett. “Someone told me you’re crazy about bananas.”
Beckett gives me a mischievous smile.
Oh, no.
“I love bananas,” Alex says. “But I don’t like banana…things.”
“Banana things?” I repeat.
“Things made with bananas. Like banana pudding.”
I look at Beckett, a hand on my hip. “I wonder if this person knew that.”
Alex also looks at Beckett. “I think that person did. And I’m guessing that person really likes your banana pudding and was hoping to snag it when I didn’t want it.”
“He does, as a matter of fact,” I say, my eyes on Beckett as I push the bowl toward Teddy. “Everyone does.”
“Oh well, if you insist. I mean, if you’re not going to eat it,” Teddy says to Alex, grabbing the bowl and cradling it against his chest. “Well, I gotta go. See you all tomorrow.” And then he’s off his stool and out of the shop before anyone can stop him.
Before Beckett can stop him.
“That was cruel,” Beckett says, staring after Teddy.
“Yes, it was,” I say, smacking his arm. I look at Alex. “I’m sorry. I was led to believe that my pudding would be the perfect treat after your first scrimmage.”
“It’s…fine,” Alex says. He looks very uncomfortable suddenly.
“Okay, then I gotta get outta here too,” Zeke says. “There are rules at my house for how long any single adult has to be alone with our twins. Letting them outnumber you is never a good idea.”
Everyone chuckles and starts to move to leave as well. The plates all have only crumbs left, and Beckett is even closing his notes app on his phone.
“You’re leaving too?” Alex asks.
Beckett stretches to his feet. “Got work early, man. Actually, I was gonna ask you if you’ve got anything big going on tomorrow.”
Alex shakes his head. “No. What do you have in mind?”
“I need to head into New Orleans and pick up a new stove for someone. I could use an extra hand.”
“I could do that,” Alex says.
“Great. I’ll meet you down here for breakfast.”
Everyone heads out, stopping here and there to chat with people on the way to the door.
Leaving just Alex and me.
“Let me get you something else,” I say, turning away.
“Wildflower.”
That name always makes my stomach flip. I turn back. “Yeah?”
He looks like he wants to say something important, but he just says, “Thanks.”
“Be right back.”
When I get back to the table with a club sandwich, he’s hunched over his phone, frowning as he types.
“Everything okay?” I ask as I set the plate down and take the stool to his right.
“My emails and texts are blowing up.”
I press my lips together, so my grin isn’t too bright when he looks up. “About the scrimmage?”
“Yeah. Apparently, Ruth got some really good video. A couple of players from the Grays who follow me saw the tag, checked it out, and shared it.”
My stomach flips with excitement, but I still tamp it down. Then I frown. I don’t want to tamp down my excitement about things with Alex. “That’s so great,” I say with enthusiasm.
He lifts a brow. “Tonight was a mess.”
I shake my head. “Tonight was a fantastic first effort. Are there things to smooth out? Sure. But then not being smooth and polished is part of the fun.”
He sighs, then opens his mouth, but before he can respond, I say, “I know you don’t agree with that. But everyone loved seeing you out there, Alex.”
“Because I looked like an idiot?”
“You didn’t.”
“I’m a professional hockey player. I shouldn’t be tripping and missing shots with wiffle balls.” He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t be taking shots with wiffle balls.”
“Everyone knows that you are an incredible hockey player. That’s not what this is about. They loved seeing you doing something different. They loved seeing you be goofy and have fun.”
“I didn’t have fun.”
“Liar.”
“I don’t like it when I don’t know what to expect.”
“I thought you said you were getting used to that around here.”
“Getting used to it and liking it are two different things.”
I prop my elbow on the table and lean my chin onto my hand. “You know, just because you’ve always done hockey, and love it more than anything, and think it’s all you’re good at, doesn’t mean that that can’t change and you can’t be good at something else.”
“So you admit that wasn’t hockey we were playing tonight.”
I grin, even though I know it’s going to irritate him further. “What you were doing tonight was making a bunch of people happy and entertaining them.”
He studies me for a long moment. A very long moment. “It made you happy,” he finally says.
I nod. “Very.”
“I’m sorry,” Alex says.
“For what?”
“I was a bad sport tonight.”
“You really don’t understand, do you?”
“Understand what?”
“How great it is to see someone like you do something like tonight. You’re a famous, rich, incredibly talented hockey player, Alex.
There is nothing you can’t do in a pair of ice skates with a hockey stick.
It’s fun to see someone like you be able to let go of that polished persona and have fun.
Do some things that are definitely outside of your comfort zone.
Let yourself not be perfect. It gives other people permission to let go of the idea that they have to be perfect and can never just enjoy the things they are most dedicated to.
” I shrug. “Everyone has goals and dreams. Everyone’s working for something.
And everyone wants to be great at something.
But you can’t just work and drive all the time. ”
“You can,” he says.
“But then, when something out of your control happens, like a natural disaster, a financial hardship, or, I don’t know, a major injury that changes what you’re able to do—”, I say, giving him a pointed look.
“Then it’s harder to pivot. Because it was work.
It was something you did because you had to.
It’s important to also love what you’re working for, to laugh and have fun with it, too.
That makes it easier to remember why it matters when things are tough. ”
“But I didn’t have a good time tonight,” he mutters. It lacks conviction, though.
“I don’t believe you. Not completely.”
He frowns at me. “I do not like being uncomfortable. I do not like feeling like I don’t know what’s going on or what to expect. I like when things go according to a plan. Nothing about tonight went according to any plan.”
“That’s not true. My plan was—”
“Let me clarify,” Alex interjects. “Your plan was to put us on the ice and deal with things as they came along, just try things out willy-nilly, and put on an exhibition. So yes, it went according to your plan.”
He’s not wrong. “And like we talked about at movie night, success depends on what your goal is,” I remind him.
“And I didn’t even know how to have a goal because I didn’t know what was going to happen tonight. I mean, I don’t think the point of any of this is actually to win the game, is it?”
“No.”
“I don’t know how to play hockey like that, Nora. I know how to score points and win games. What was the final score anyway?”
I laugh. “We honestly don’t know. We kind of stopped keeping track.” But I say quickly. “I promise that won’t happen again. Tonight was also an experiment. To see what things worked and what things didn’t. Obviously, our score-keeping tonight didn’t work.”
“As far as I’m concerned, none of it worked.”
I shake my head. “But it all worked because everyone had a good time.”
He blows out a breath and rises. “I think this is just where we’re going to agree to disagree.”
I feel my heart drop. I really thought I could bring him around.
I shouldn’t be surprised, but I’m a little disappointed. I’d thought he would have more fun with this tonight. I thought once he was out there, he would see the point and understand it. But I can’t force this on him. I can’t force him to enjoy something. He’s either going to or he’s not.
“Well, at least it’s only ’til April,” I quip, trying to lighten the moment.
Instead, I feel a lead ball settle in my stomach.
My words make him stop. He studies me, frowns slightly, then nods. “I guess that’s true.”
I watch him head for the stairs, but as he brushes aside the curtain that covers the doorway, he looks back.
He looks a little regretful. I’m not sure about what, but I’m hoping maybe it’s that he didn’t kiss me goodnight.
After all, he’s my pretend boyfriend. I want more of those not-at-all pretend kisses, dammit.