17. Dawson
CHAPTER 17
DAWSON
I tuck the book under my arm as I stroll along the sidewalk, rubbing my hands to keep them warm.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” Noreen Harrison says from behind me. “Did you read the book?”
“Finished last night,” I say. Barely. I had to read it after the others went to bed and almost didn’t get it done.
She leans toward me. “I’ll warn you now. Mary-Ellen gets a little chatty. Red punch makes her extra giddy. Don’t ask me what’s in it, but someone adds an herbal concoction that’s supposed to promote mental clarity. Things get a little wild. But what happens in book club, stays in book club.” She gives me a playful wink.
We head to the back of the store, where a crowd nearly twice as big as the last meeting awaits. A dozen women stand around a table of appetizers and punch.
“You came!” Mary-Ellen squeals. “Would you like a glass of punch?”
She fills a cup before I can stop her and forces it into my hands.
I take the cup, give her a weak smile and look around for a plant to dump it into.
Just then, Emmy joins the group. Her hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and she’s wearing a green dress that looks amazing on her.
“Sorry I’m late, everyone! I just made another delivery to the Happy Horizons Ranch. Angel was so thrilled to get our book donations. If you’d like to buy another book for a kid in need, we’re collecting donations again tonight.”
So this is how she’s making book donations to the Happy Horizons Ranch? She asks people to buy a book for the kids’ charity and the store still makes money. It’s brilliant, actually.
I want to wrap my arms around her and tell her, but then I remember we’re not making this relationship “Instagram official” even if people are gossiping about us.
Emmy’s eyes meet mine before she nervously looks toward the group. “Can I talk to you a minute?” She motions for me to follow her to the children’s section.
She glances over my shoulder at the group. “Last chance to make your escape.”
I frown. “Why would I want to leave? I’m here for you.”
“Besides the fact that everyone is talking about us since the festival? We’re going to be discussing a romance book. It’s written for females.”
“So? Women play hockey too.”
She gives me a look. “It’s not about hockey, Dawson.”
“I know. I’m just saying you’re stereotyping me. I can read a love story.”
She frowns. “It’s about fictional people who fall in love in some over-the-top twist of fate. This doesn’t happen in real life.”
“Who said it doesn’t happen?” I put my hands on my hips. “People fall in love all the time.”
She lets out a shaky breath. “They also use it as a vent session to complain about how men don’t measure up. I just don’t want you to be... in the line of fire.”
“Why would I?”
“Because real men aren’t this way. I mean, it’s the nature of romance to make the heroes into something unattainable.”
I think back to my conversation with Romcom Book and how books don’t compare to real life. As a man, I want to set the record straight. Maybe we’re not perfect. We say and do the wrong things sometimes, but love can still be great. Exceptional, even.
Maybe I’m trying to convince Emmy of this more than anyone because I want her to see it too.
“I can handle this group,” I assure her. “Do you have any questions I should know about?”
“It’s not my questions I’m worried about,” she says before turning away from me.
Emmy takes a seat, and the chairs fill up before I can save the seat next to her. I’m left sitting beside Mary-Ellen and across the circle from Emmy.
“We can’t start yet,” Mary-Ellen says. “Mrs. Nelson is missing!”
Suddenly, Mrs. Nelson hurries through the door. “I’m here, dearies! Wouldn’t miss this for the world!” She sits on the other side of me and smiles.
Emmy pulls out a sheet of questions. “Who’d like to share their impressions of the book first?”
Noreen Harrison raises her hand. “I don’t understand why this woman feels like she needs to marry a professional athlete for his insurance. She could’ve married a rich businessman for his money.”
Mary-Ellen leans toward me and whispers, “She’s speaking from experience. She only married Hal for his money.”
Emmy frowns at Mary-Ellen. “Anyone want to respond to Noreen’s question?”
Mimi glances around. “It’s not his insurance that attracts her. It’s the things he does for her. And let’s face it, he probably looks good with his shirt off.”
The ladies laugh as Emmy’s face flushes. I bite back a smile.
Mimi gives me a mischievous wink. She clearly doesn’t give a fig what anyone thinks.
I raise my hand. Emmy looks my way before her eyes flick away. Then I clear my throat. Everyone else turns to me while Emmy pretends not to see me.
Mrs. Nelson waves her hand. “Our guest wants to talk.”
Her eyes finally meet mine. “Dawson, do you have something to add?”
“I think the main character knows her in a way that nobody else does. They’ve been friends for a few years, so there’s trust that’s already been established.”
Mary-Ellen turns toward me. “You actually read the book?”
“I even took notes.” I pull out a stack of sticky notes covered with my scribbles.
Mary-Ellen’s mouth drops open.
Mimi lifts an eyebrow. “Impressive.”
Emmy’s eyes widen before she looks down at her notes. “Okay, moving right along here.”
“Wait,” Mary-Ellen says. “I’d like to know what he took notes on.”
“Me too,” Noreen says. “That sounds interesting.”
She suddenly looks panicked. “But we have to get through the book club questions first.” Emmy holds up her neatly typed list.
“This isn’t a literature class, Emmy. It’s book club. We talk about whatever we want,” Noreen says before turning to me. “I want to hear your juicy details.”
Everyone shifts toward me, suddenly interested, except for Emmy. Her eyes fall to the ground. I think she’s nervous about whether my annotations are related to any women I’ve dated.
“Are you okay with it?” I ask Emmy.
She searches the group for support. “But what about our discussion on literary devices?”
I don’t even know what a literary device is, but it sounds serious.
“We’re not literary critics,” Mary-Ellen says. “We want to know what our guest of honor likes.”
“Precisely,” Noreen agrees. “We want a man’s point of view.”
“Okay.” I glance at my yellow squares and avoid looking at Emmy. “I liked the little things he did for her, like when he surprised her with a picnic overlooking the ocean. He even finds her favorite food and secretly orders it for the date.”
“That was so thoughtful,” Mrs. Nelson adds.
“Or how about when he tells her he will never put an end date on their marriage, even though it’s a marriage of convenience,” I say. “And then at the end, he has to choose her or the NHL contract, and he chooses her.”
The ladies nod in agreement.
“But she runs away because she doesn’t want to ruin his dreams, and he goes after her,” Mary-Ellen says. “I sobbed during that part.” The punch is loosening her lips, just like Noreen warned.
“You’re quite good at this,” Noreen says. “But which kiss did you think was the best?”
“There’s only one kiss that mattered,” Emmy says.
“No, there’s not,” I say. “There are four and they all matter.”
“But there’s only one real one,” she says, trying to correct me.
I shake my head. “There are four kisses that lead to the pinnacle moment when they finally realize they’re in love.” Then I lean forward, elbows on knees, and hold her gaze. “First, there’s the forced kiss at the chapel in Vegas where they wed. It was an awkward kiss that established the lack of trust in the relationship. Then there’s the kiss she uses as a bargaining chip to get him to put an end date on their marital arrangement. At this point, we know they both have feelings, but they don’t trust each other fully. She wants to give him an out, and he refuses. The same for kiss three when they made her ex jealous. It’s clear they have chemistry, but they’re not ready to make a commitment even though the kiss is incredible. The fourth one on their honeymoon is when she finally chooses to kiss him. By that point, they’re both ready to be vulnerable.”
She chews her lip, considering all four. “But that last one is the only one that matters. It’s her leap of faith.”
“But is it the one that brings them together?” I ask, shaking my head. “I don’t think so. Because he has to earn her trust first. It takes all four kisses to get her to stop wanting an out from their relationship. He has to woo her slowly, intentionally, with the end goal in mind: to make her see how much he loves her.” I leave the words dangling between us, sucking oxygen from the room.
Alarm creeps over Emmy’s face. Because this isn’t about the book anymore. It’s about us.
Everyone holds their breath like they’re watching a tennis volley at Wimbledon.
I knit my fingers together, gazing at her from across the circle.
“She thinks it’s a mistake, getting so close to him,” she says under her breath. “She doesn’t know how the ending will play out—if he feels forced to give up the NHL because of their marital contract. Those other kisses aren’t real for her because they haven’t acknowledged their feelings yet.”
“We don’t have to see them acknowledge it to know it’s real for him ,” I tell her, my eyes locked on her.
“It was real for me,” Mrs. Nelson says, nodding.
“Me too,” Noreen says. “I felt it.”
“As intense as a hot flash in July,” Mimi says, fanning herself. The ladies nod in agreement.
“Who thinks that all those kisses were needed to bring them together?” Noreen asks.
All hands go up except Emmy’s.
Emmy scoffs. “I don’t think she knows what she wants yet. Those other kisses were just for show.”
“How could she not see how much he loves her?” I ask. “Everything he does is for her.”
“Maybe she was afraid he’d change his mind when he found somebody better.”
“There was nobody better for him,” I insist.
Emmy blinks, then shakes her head.
She can’t agree because it’s not about the characters anymore. It’s about her trusting me. No matter how much she argues with me, I want to prove I can be the man for her. To woo her over, slowly and intentionally.
“Let’s take a snack break,” she announces suddenly, then walks away from the group. I want to follow her, but a few ladies corner me with questions.
She’s pacing the sidewalk when I finally find her outside.
“Hey,” I say gently. “What’s wrong?”
She stops, lifts an eyebrow. “If you want to take over book club, be my guest. You’ve won them all over.”
I frown. “I wasn’t trying to take over.”
“Oh, really? So you weren’t trying to become the darling of Maple Falls? Woo these women?”
I shake my head. “No. I came tonight for you . I want to be part of your world. See what you do, how you spend your time. That’s all.”
She stares at me for a beat. “Here’s the thing, Dawson. You could never be part of my world. You don’t belong here. Not really.”
“Why not?” I ask, my stomach sinking. “Those ladies think I do.”
“They adore you because they see you as a hockey star. I don’t know why you bothered coming tonight when you’re leaving after these games are over. You’re just getting everyone’s hopes up, and then you’ll dash them later.”
Are we still talking about the ladies in there? Or her?
She glances at the yellow notes still in my hands. She doesn’t know how many comments I wrote in the book. Random thoughts scratched onto the margins.
I hold up a sticky note. “I wanted to read the book because you liked it and I wanted to know why. When I got halfway through it, I saw the other side of this tough hockey guy. All the little ways he won his girl over. Then I wondered, Is this what women want? Is this what you want? ”
She studies me for a beat, then shakes her head before brushing by me. “It’s just a book, Dawson.”
It’s not until I get home and check my messages before bed that I see that Romcom Book has posted a new video. I click on the video and immediately recognize the song “Ice Ice Baby” as hockey players skate across the screen. It’s a faraway shot. I can’t make out the details, but there’s something so familiar about these players. The rink. The warm-up routine. Then I see the goalie warming up and my stomach drops.
I’ve studied every goalie in the league. I make it my business to know how they practice so I can learn from the best. Even though the camera shot is zoomed out, I know where this was taken. I know who the goalie is.
It’s me.