19. Goldie
NINETEEN
GOLDIE
I wasn’t going to be able to see Ace until after he got back from Miami. Keeping busy was the only way I could get through the day without thinking about the night we’d spent together. He had sent some cute texts, and relied heavily on the use of GIFs, which I thought was cute. Throughout the days we were apart, I found myself smiling at my phone. When I told him that I was compiling data from the studies, he sent a cat typing furiously on a keyboard.
Tuesday morning, Morton and I trekked through a foot of fresh snow to the main house to have breakfast with my dad before he left for Miami. “Good morning, Dad,” I shouted as we stepped inside.
Morton trotted over to the bowls that Dad kept in the kitchen, slurped some water, and then made himself comfy on the living room sofa. “Morty,” I hissed. “Get down off there. You’re wet.”
My dog looked at me like he didn’t understand a word I was saying.
Dad came down the stairs, his tie loose around his neck. “It’s okay. I put that blanket down just for him. The housekeeper washes it every time she comes, so it’s only medium stinky.”
“Dad.” I shook my head. “You were the one who said that dogs were not allowed on the couch.”
My father shrugged and had a guilty look on his face. “He’s getting older and needs someplace comfy to sit.”
“He’s five.” I put my hands on my hips. “Wait a minute…” I pushed my dad aside and ran up the stairs to his bedroom. A blanket that matched the one on the sofa was spread across the foot of his bed.
“When did you become such a softie?” I called down the stairs and then met him at the kitchen island. Our hockey namesake dogs had been treated well, but they were never allowed on the furniture and definitely were not permitted on the beds. I’m pretty sure that Gretzky used to sneak up onto the couch after everyone went to bed, but he was always smart enough to return to his own before anyone got up for the day.
“I guess that happens when you get old.” Dad kissed me on the cheek. “Are you going to be all right while I’m away? I’m going to leave the keys to my car. Please take it; the streets are going to be a mess with all of this snow.”
I was twenty-five years old and my dad was still nervous about going out of town. “I’ll be fine and I’ll keep an eye on the house for you.”
Dad poured two cups of coffee and slid one across the island. I took some cream out of the fridge, but he held up his hand. “No cream for me anymore, kiddo. Have you ever tried putting cinnamon in your coffee? It’s delicious.” He held up the spice bottle like a social media influencer trying to sell it.
“I’ll try some, but you’re going to have to pull this cream out of my cold dead hands.” I laughed as I poured it into my favorite glass mug. Dad shook some cinnamon on my drink and watched as I took a sip.
“You’re right; it is good.”
Dad smiled, sat across from me, and tied his tie. It was his away-game tie, the same one he’d worn since his first day coaching. “Don’t you think it’s time for a new tie?”
“Marigold Swanson.” Dad gasped. “How dare you suggest that I get rid of my lucky tie, especially now that we’re on a winning streak.”
“Since when is one game a streak?” It came out a little harsher than I’d intended. Luckily, Dad had a thick skin.
“That was game one of our winning streak. You’ll see.” He adjusted the tie. “Since that ‘w’ against Vegas, the guys have been busting their asses at practice.” He sipped his coffee. “I’ve also noticed that the players who are working with you seem to be lighter on their feet. Are you doing some psychological magic in those sessions?”
That made my heart swell. Quite a few of the men had opened up about their emotions, unprovoked. It was as though they needed a place and a person who knew what they’d been through and would listen without judgement. I wasn’t an official psychiatrist or psychologist. My theory was this made me more approachable. “I’m just asking them questions about the game.” I held on to the warm mug. Dad usually lit a fire in the fireplace, but hadn’t because he was going away, so the house was a little chillier than usual.
“Whatever it is you’re doing, keep doing it. Have you been able to get to the bottom of the Bailey feud?”
“Not yet. The only thing I’ve discovered is that they’ve each had at least one concussion because of the other.”
Dad shook his head. “They’re scrappy with each other, but did you see the magic that happened at the end of the game? Maybe they’re ready to put the past behind them.”
I doubted it.
“Have they told you anything else?” There was hope in his eyes.
“No, and if they do, I’m not sure I can tell you any details.”
Dad took a deep breath. “I guess that’s appropriate, but if I need to trade one of them, you’ll figure out a way to tell me, right?”
“Hopefully, they’ve turned everything around and we won’t have to worry about that.”
Dad smiled. “I hope you’re right. That would be an expensive loss for the team.”
I hadn’t told Dad that I’d fired Ace from the study. It wasn’t any of his business, and the study and its participants were ultimately going to be anonymous. That’s what I told myself. The truth was I didn’t want to have to explain why I’d fired Ace. Dad didn’t need to know about what was happening between us, at least not until I knew that it actually was something. Sure, Ace told me that the sheets were mine, but part of me was still afraid that it was all too good to be true. There was no sense in upsetting the apple cart, or whatever that saying was. Maybe it would be a fast-and-furious fling and I would never have to tell Dad. If this was the case, I wouldn’t have to tell Ace about my dad either. No, it wasn’t the time to be shouting about our romance from the rooftops.
“Did you ever find your keys?” he asked. I’d had to borrow his spare set to let myself into my place. “I’ll call a locksmith. I don’t like the idea of keys to the carriage house floating around out there.”
I put my hand on his. “I’ll call the locksmith. You focus on getting to Miami and winning that game.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Thanks, Goldie. I love that I can count on you.”
Morton yawned and slunk off the couch like a snake, stretching his back legs behind him. He didn’t make eye contact with me as he trotted past the kitchen and up the stairs to where I assumed he was making himself comfortable on my dad’s king-sized bed.
The wind howled and the leaded glass windows on the front of the house shuddered.
“I hope that they don’t ground the flights today.” I shivered. “I’m a little bit jealous that you’re on your way to sunny Florida.”
“You can come with me next time.” Lights flashed as the town car pulled into the driveway. Dad rinsed his mug and put on his LL Bean jacket. “Bye, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of my head. “Bye, Mortman!” he shouted.
A thud from upstairs shook the chandelier in the living room, and Morton bounded down the stairs. “I don’t get that kind of reaction when I leave.” I pretended to pout.
Morton leaned against my dad’s suit pants, his tail thwacking at the island as Dad patted him vigorously. He dropped something white on the floor at my feet. “What’s this?” I picked it up with my fingertips. The white hat with the pompom was covered in drool, but it looked familiar.
“I don’t know where that came from.” Dad slung his briefcase over his shoulder and I walked to the door, giving him another hug after he put on his boots.
I turned the hat around in my hands a couple of times. “This looks like Mel’s.”
“Maybe she left it here on burger night.” Dad waved as he jogged to meet the airport car, leaving boot prints in the twelve inches of snow.
Mel and I had plans to meet for lunch, so I tucked her hat in the pocket of my jacket. “Come on, Morton. Let’s go to work.”
With all of my subjects on a plane to the Sunshine State, I spent my morning reviewing the recordings and compiling data. Since Morton came with me to work, Mel and I opted to go for a dog walk instead of a restaurant for lunch.
The snow had stopped falling and the sun shone in the clear blue sky overhead. It was one of those perfect winter days where the snow crunched underneath your boots, and the sun warmed your face. Morton trotted beside me, basking in the winter wonderland.
Mel met us downtown and held up a tinfoil-wrapped sandwich in each of her hands. “Shawarma or falafel?”
“Mel.” I groaned. “I’m going to wear that if I try to eat it while we’re walking.”
She pointed to a bench at the side of the Lakeshore trail. “Have a seat.” She took off her gloves, set them down on the bench, and plopped down on top of them. “It’s not too bad.”
I followed suit, sitting on my wool mittens. She was right; it wasn’t so bad. Morton chose to dig a hole in the snowbank beside us and curl up in the snow. Mel filled me in on all of her real estate deals. There were tales of seized-up lockboxes and frozen plumbing pipes. “It sounds like a nightmare,” I said.
“It’s been a tough week. I can’t wait until summer.”
“Me too.” I finished the falafel and cleaned my hands off with a napkin. “Although, you can’t beat a day like this.” The sun glinted off the buildings, and if I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine that I was with Ace, sitting on a bench on Miami beach.
Mel pulled her black cable knit hat lower on her head. “It’s better than yesterday, but my toes are still freezing.” She pointed to her leather boots. “Come on, let’s start walking.” She slapped her hand on my thigh. “You have to tell me all about your night with Ace Bailey.”
I laughed and brushed the crumbs off my coat, amazed that I didn’t have tahini all down the front. “I was hoping that you forgot about that.”
She looped her hand through my elbow. “My best friend gets photographed smooching the Tiger’s all-star in front of a taco shop? Yeah right. I’m going to need the details—all of them.”
“How did you know that we kissed on the street?”
The memory was a bit blurry, but when I thought about the way Ace slammed me against that building, my body remembered every second. I cleared my throat as I tried to shake the scene from my mind or, rather, my body.
Mel pulled her cell phone out of her handbag. “You’re in the Toronto Tattler .”
“What?” I grabbed at her phone.
The photo was grainy, and must have been taken from someone in line at the bar. If I squinted, I could make out my T-shirt. Ace was still holding my coat, and my back was to the crowd.
There wasn’t much of a story, and I breathed out a sigh of relief when I read the title: “Number 11 Celebrates Win with Mystery Brunette.”
“Don’t read the comments.” Mel swiped the phone from my hand.
“I’m sure they’re cruel.” I shrugged. The scrutiny the players’ girlfriends went through in the public eye was disgusting. I hadn’t even thought about that angle, discovering another good reason to keep things with Ace a secret.
“Sooooo.” Mel zipped up her handbag. “Is he proportional?” She held her hands out as if measuring something about twelve inches wide.
“I wouldn’t know.”
Mel cackled. “You’re a terrible liar, Goldie Girl. So, it is big.”
I looked around to make sure no one would overhear our conversation. “The biggest I’ve ever had.”
“I knew it.” She clapped her hands together. “Was it good?”
It was all about the sex with Mel. How could I describe the connection I’d felt with Ace? Yes, we’d had sex, but it had been so much more. “I’m going to keep that between us.”
Mel stopped and grabbed my arm. “No, Goldie Girl.”
“What?” I thought that she’d be excited for me, but she sounded the opposite.
“You’re falling for him.”
“I didn’t say that.” My cheeks burned. What good was it trying to hide the truth from your best friend when they could read every little micro expression on your face?
“You didn’t have to.” She let go of my arm and we started walking again. “You’d be spilling all the dirty details if you didn’t care about that man.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay. Maybe I am falling for him, but in all fairness, I think that he fell first.”
“Of course. You’re amazing.” Mel smiled and pulled her scarf tighter around her neck. The wind from the lake was whipping directly up Yonge Street. “But what about your study?”
“Promise you won’t judge me?”
Mel laughed. “Do you remember who you’re talking to? I’d never judge you. I’d help you bury a body if you needed me to. Remember to always pile the dirt higher over the body. Because when they decompose, the earth will sink down and leave an obvious depression.”
Morton stopped to pee on a snowbank. “Should I be concerned that you know the intricacies of hiding a body?”
“It was on the Murderville podcast.”
Steam puffed as I laughed. “I must have missed that one.”
“Now, spill, Goldie Girl.”
“I fired Ace from the study. I was attracted to him and it was interfering with my ability to be an objective observer.”
We stepped aside as a little snowplow rumbled past, clearing a side street. We followed its fresh path. “We’re going to…date, I guess you could call it.”
Mel clapped her hands together. “Really? But he’s a hockey player.”
“He’s—”
“Different?” Mel’s voice raised dubiously.
“He is.” I was emphatic. “We’re keeping it a secret for now. I don’t want it to interfere with the study.”
“How would that interfere? I don’t understand.” Mel’s phone pinged in her bag and she took it out and typed an email while we walked.
“I don’t know how you do that.” I marveled.
“It’s my ADHD.” She laughed. “This is the perfect job for me. Now, get back to that whole keeping-it-a-secret thing.”
“Right.” The sun slipped behind a cloud, and the day that felt like spring reverted to winter: cold and dark. “None of the players know that I’m their coach’s daughter.”
“Ohhhh.” Mel nodded and I was glad that she understood. “Do you think Ace will be able to keep that secret?”
I took a deep breath, knowing this wasn’t going to go over well. “He doesn’t know yet either.”
“Gooooooldie.” Mel shook her head slowly as she growled out my name. “What are you doing?”
“He doesn’t need to know yet.”
“Let me guess. You’re going to keep this little secret from your dad too?”
My lips drew into a line and I nodded. “Only for a little while longer, until I figure out how to tell them…both.”
“You’re playing with fire. I know that it’s not an official rule, but do you think Ace would want to date the coach’s daughter, and vice versa? Do you think your father would want you to date one of his players?”
Morton tugged at the leash and stopped to take a number two right in the middle of the sidewalk. “I’m not going to rock the boat until I know for sure…there’s a boat to be rocked.”
Mel was uncharacteristically quiet, and even let a few text messages sit without responding to them right away. “This isn’t like you. You’re all about honesty and integrity. For the record, I think this is a bad idea. You’re lying to the two men in your life, and I know how you feel about lying.”
“This is different.” I groaned. Mel knew about my trust issues. “And what happened to helping me bury a body?”
Mel sighed. “It’s my job to tell you the truth. You need to tell Ace as soon as possible. It’s not fair to him for you to keep something that big a secret. Your dad…” Her voice trailed off. “Maybe you can wait to tell him.”
Her phone rang and she glanced at the screen. “It’s Aubrey. I’ve got to take this.”
We were at the corner where we’d have to part ways. I gestured west with my thumb. “I’ll see you later.” She nodded while she was talking, waved, and then turned to walk the other way.
After picking up Morton’s number two, we headed back to the office. I hung my coat on the hook on my office door. A hint of white caught my eye. The hat was peeking out the pocket. “Shoot.” I’d forgotten to give it back to Mel. I tucked it back into the pocket with a plan to give it to her the next time we got together.
Mel was right. I was going to have to tell Ace. I promised myself I would do it as soon as he got back from Miami.