27. Astrid
ASTRID
“I have to suck on it?” Maggie Collins, a sports reporter from Portland, asks as Declan and I approach the small group near the food tables in the parking lot outside the arena.
Beckett grins at her and twists the tail off a crawfish, then sucks the meat out.
“Yep, you have to suck pretty…” He stops and sighs.
“I’ll be honest, Maggie, this would be the perfect place for me to say something flirtatious and slightly inappropriate about sucking heads and getting all the good stuff out, but I find it difficult to flirt with other women lately. ”
Maggie's wrinkled nose relaxes, and she gives Beckett an interested look. “The notorious flirt has a crush?”
He nods. “I do.”
“Well, that sounds like a better story than how to eat crawfish.”
Beckett perks up. “You want to write about me today?”
“This hockey league gets a lot of clicks when I do,” she tells him.
I am so relieved that Beckett, Alex, and Nora have clearly been entertaining the reporters while Declan and I were…busy.
I feel my chest start to tighten as I think about what we were doing, and how it did not go the way I wanted it to, and how disappointed and frustrated I am, but I take a deep breath and blow it out.
I can’t let those thoughts intrude right now.
I need to act normal here. Not only are there reporters here to talk to us, but Nora and Alex will definitely notice if I don’t paste on a smile.
It seems that things have been handled down here in our absence, though.
Maggie and Mark, sports reporters whom I expected to see, and Scott Stevens, a reporter with Hockey Hunks magazine whom I did not know would be here, have all been following Alex for years.
Beckett has never met a reporter—okay, a human—he didn’t want to talk to about just about anything.
He once did a spontaneous interview with a lifestyle reporter in a New Orleans coffee shop about the best places to get an oil change in the city.
Nora considers herself the hostess for everyone who comes to Rebel for any reason.
So the reporters have been in good hands.
If only upstairs had been more fun and…productive.
I push that away again. It was fun.
For a while. Until I…
Then I have to push that thought away.
I can’t dwell on any of this.
Not only do I have a job to do right now, but it would be horrible if I burst into tears in the middle of the crawfish boil before our game.
Beckett is about to respond to Maggie when Scott notices Declan and me.
“Declan!” Scott greets.
Hockey Hunks is one of the most popular hockey publications, and Scott interviewed Declan just last month. He has been trying to get an interview with me ever since I moved to Louisiana. But I have no idea why he’s here today. This isn’t even a real game.
“Scott,” Declan says with a tone that indicates he wasn’t expecting Scott to be here either. The men shake hands.
“This is quite a party,” Scott says, indicating the long table where crawfish are spread out with chunks of seasoned corn on the cob and red potatoes.
There’s another table laden with cornbread and various salads to go alongside, and another with drinks, including tea, lemonade, ice water, and a fruity drink made with lime drink mix and pineapple juice that we call Swamp Water. Inside the arena, adults can also buy Swamp Water with vodka added.
Bruce—one of our cooks, of course—carries a cook pot over and dumps a fresh batch of crawfish on top of the butcher paper covering the long wooden table.
“Eat up,” he tells us with a grin before returning to the area where the pots are boiling over propane gas flames.
Harley and Brewser are also helping cook. For a crowd this size, there simply aren't big enough pots, and the food has to be prepared in batches.
I watch for a moment as Lawson assists Brewser with his pot.
Lawson lives on the second floor of the older man’s big house. It’s turned into the perfect situation for both. Lawson needed a place to stay in Rebel, and he’s able to help with the tasks to keep the hundred-year-old house running.
Lawson hoists Brewser’s pot and carries it to another table where he dumps the contents out, and the waiting crowd converges on the fresh food.
“It’s tradition,” Declan tells Scott.
“I am surprised you’re doing it for your summer exhibition games too,” Mark, a reporter from New Orleans who has done several nice pieces for us over the past few months, comments.
I give him a smile. “Of course. Every time we play, it’s a party.”
This will be fine. I know how to put on the show. I’ve smiled and performed when I’ve been sick, hurt, and upset before.
All I have to do is convince a few people that I am happy to be here for a few minutes until the players take the ice.
Really, only until someone else distracts them. I am not the center of attention here, something I have very much enjoyed.
“You seem surprised to see me,” Scott says to Declan.
“You are a long way from home,” Declan replies.
Scott chuckles and looks at Maggie, who returns his smile.
“So are you. Which is, of course, why we’re here.”
I stiffen and Declan notices, slipping his arm around my waist and resting his big hand on my hip.
They’re here because Declan is here. Of course. If my brain wasn’t so muddled from what happened in my office—or what didn’t happen—and emotional because everything was going well until…well, until it wasn’t, I would’ve realized that immediately.
Declan being in town isn’t just a big deal for Rebel. Of course, other people would notice that. Particularly, people who follow hockey and people who are from Portland.
Maggie’s actually given our league a lot of attention since we started.
I assume it’s because of Alex joining us.
He was a big star in the pros and beloved in Portland.
His joining a small, not-exactly-real-hockey league was a big story.
Especially when he turned down the coaching position with the Grays to return to Louisiana. And Nora.
I have noticed that clicks on Maggie’s stories about Alex have decreased since it became clear he’s no longer single.
But Maggie isn’t here to talk about the ex-Grays star and no-longer-eligible bachelor. These three are here to shine a spotlight on the Grays' billionaire owner and why he is suddenly in a small town in Louisiana.
And his wife.
Which means that the spotlight will also be on me.
So pull your shit together. Today you’re a successful team owner. No focusing on your failures and disappointments.
“We just did an interview recently,” Declan tells Scott. “There can’t be anything interesting for us to talk about again already.”
Scott laughs. “Only that Portland’s richest man is now living in small-town Louisiana. Tell us more.”
Declan looks down at me with a smile. “Well, as you may be aware, my wife lives here.”
Scott looks at me. “Yes, we’re all very aware. So what’s going on? Just a visit?”
Declan pulls me more snugly against his side. I can feel my smile wobble, but I’m pretty sure I hold onto it.
This is a simple interview with one reporter.
It’s in the parking lot of my hockey arena, for fuck’s sake.
This is not a huge gymnasium where millions of eyes are on me, watching to see where I’ll stand on the final podium.
This is not a stage in a big auditorium where I’m addressing a thousand young people who want to be inspired by a story about overcoming adversity.
This isn’t even my home office where I’m online with millions of viewers tuning in to hear me say something insightful and full of hope and wisdom.
These are sports reporters here to watch a bonkers hockey game and ask questions about why my hot, charming, rich husband is here with me.
Because he fucking likes me, dammit.
I can fucking smile through this.
Just because I may never be able to have real sex with the man that I am madly in love with, and may never be able to actually have a marriage that I now want to have, may never be able to get pregnant—at least the old-fashioned way—may never be able to give Declan what he wants, and deserves to have…
I feel Declan squeeze my hip and realize that not only am I completely tense, but I’m frowning.
“Not happy that Declan’s here?” Scott asks.
I shake my head. “I’m thrilled Declan’s here,” I say.
“It’s probably been a big adjustment, though,” Scott says.
“How so?”
Scott barks out a laugh.
“Going from living a couple thousand miles away, having a house all to yourself, never seeing or talking to him, to having him right here all the time? That’s not an adjustment?”
It’s been absolutely amazing, and I can’t believe I actually tried to push this guy away.
I feel like sobbing.
I love him. I love him so much. He’s been beyond incredible about everything that I have shared with him, everything he’s discovered since landing on my doorstep. And it’s been a lot.
But we can’t do the most basic thing that husbands and wives do. The thing I very much want to do with him.
I have to really force this smile. “It’s been great, Scott. All this time apart was something we needed to do. We both had our businesses to take care of, other responsibilities, of course. But now, having a chance to spend time together like this has been wonderful.”
Scott doesn’t look like he’s totally buying it, and I don’t blame him a bit. He’s been covering Declan in Portland for years. Rebel does not seem like a place that Declan O’Grady would be comfortable. Which is exactly why I thought running him off would be easy.
Yeah, Scott, he surprised me too. Welcome to the club.
“So we were talking to some people before you made it out here,” Scott says. “It sounds like Declan’s fitting in here in small-town Louisiana pretty damned well.” He looks at my brother. “It was one thing for me to believe that Alex had become a small-town guy. But Declan?”
“Well, I felt the same way,” I start.