ELLIE
“Why can’t I see him yet?” Kelly’s best friend, Tom, stands on his tiptoes as he peers down at the ice. “Shouldn’t he be out by now?”
He’s been asking the same question for the past ten minutes, but as if by magic, there’s a rumble of cheers as our guys step out onto the ice for warm-ups ahead of the semi-final game.
Next to Tom, Kelly rolls her eyes, though she claps along.
“There’s Mike,” she says, nudging my arm and I turn to see a flash of auburn as he settles his helmet down onto his head; my heart thudding like crazy at the sight of my number six.
“But where’s Johnny? Do you see him yet?” Tom asks, bouncing on the spot. “Why is he always last?”
“He’s the captain,” Kelly says. “It’s like a thing.”
“It’s offensive, that’s what it is,” Tom says.
But I can hardly hear their conversation play out. I’m watching Mike take his usual half-laps of the ice.
He shoots one puck towards the empty net, circling around to repeat the shot a second and then a third time before stopping on the blueline.
Dropping to the ice he positions his stick out in front of him so he can do that ridiculous-looking ‘frog pose’ stretch he demonstrated on my living room carpet.
It shouldn’t send a tingle of excitement through me, but it does. And the same feeling makes me think about that moment in the rink—that shady room that I now associate with one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had .
And it’s as if he knows I’m watching. He gets to his skates, turns and locks eyes with me for a brief moment before he winks.
My knees wobble.
Oh, God.
“So, what I was saying before Tom rudely interrupted…” Kelly says, bringing me back into the conversation. “Oh yeah, you haven’t told my mam yet?”
I was telling her and Jen about the deal with Greg. The cheque, the wedding certificate, the bonding experience he had with Mike in his office before the excitement of warm-ups took over … oh, and the fact that Mike and I are moving in together.
The focus of the latest part of the conversation, understandably, had been surrounding the legitimacy of the certificate and the fact we’re waiting to hear from the solicitor Mike enrolled to help.
And we should hear back at any moment.
“I think we’ll tell your mam and dad once we know for certain,” I say. “But she called to ask me to remind Mike to pop in and check through the paperwork she got down from the attic before she does it herself. It’s probably for the best that we tell them as soon as we know.”
I meet Kelly’s gaze.
“Yeah, she’d do that—actually, I wouldn’t put it past her if she’s already done it and she knows full well there’s absolutely nothing for Mike to find.”
“Well—”
“You know she’ll be okay with the outcome though right?”
Kelly rests a hand on my shoulder, and I nod, trying not to let my true feelings show.
I’m dreading the answer. Because the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced it’s fake—I mean, I was so sure it was real before, but now …
it’s all too good to be true. And the truth is, I’ve been feeling …
I don’t know, sort of happy to have an extended family unit on my side.
Because I feel the warm th and love of Mike’s parents and his sisters from the limited interactions I’ve had with them.
It’s like I fit right in.
“Mam has got over the shock now … and she really likes you. She thinks you’re good for him. Level-headed and whatnot, and you know … whatever the outcome, we’re glad it brought you two together.”
Kelly gently squeezes my forearm as she beams at me but I don’t have chance to reply because Jen is nudging me to get my attention.
“El, did you see this?” she says. “The forum’s blowing up. Shame we are about to shut it down.”
Kelly leans over to look at Jen’s phone, held out for both of us to see.
I’m half-expecting to see more slander… more opinions… more gossip. But it’s the complete opposite.
It’s an apology. An apology from?—
“Oh my God … is that?—?”
“Yeah,” Jen says grimly. “‘ilovetopuck60’. Rochelle. Someone finally linked the account to her by the look of it because she crossed-posted on another forum. Everyone’s piling in now—calling her out properly.”
She scrolls, and my eyes catch on the replies. Line after line of fury, disbelief, and righteous anger.
‘You almost wrecked a man’s life for what? Breakup pity points?’
‘Hope you’re proud, Rochelle. This was psychological abuse.’
‘What were you trying to achieve?’
And my personal favourite…
‘Pathetic.’
Jen whistles low. “Look at this one—‘You built an entire smear campaign and called it grief … and brought his brother into it? Unforgivable.’”
And to think—people actually believed her at times.
“She’s trying to backpedal now,” Jen adds. “Look—she’s posted again. ‘We all make mistakes. I was hurting.’”
“Oh, give over,” Kelly mutters. “You don’t get to hide behind heartbreak when you deliberately lie.”
“Yeah, and people are using your hashtag,” Jen says, scrolling down. “There’s a whole different vibe on this forum tonight.”
Jen’s right. All I can see is line after line of ‘#justiceforBettsy’.
“About bloody time,” Tom yells above the noise, but he’s not talking about Rochelle, he’s signalling towards Johnny Koenig, who finally steps out onto the ice. If I didn’t know any better … I’d think he and Johnny were a thing, not Johnny and Kelly.
And as if on cue, Johnny turns towards us and offers Tom a wave.
But behind the team captain, I spot Mike, moving towards the line at centre ice, and then I spot someone moving towards him with intent; like they are purposefully meeting there for a quick chat.
Is that normal? Do they do that? Fraternising with the enemy during a semi-final game…
But then I clock who it is. My breath catches. The player stops on the red line and turns at an angle and I notice the name on his jersey.
Langdon.
“Oh, my God,” I say.
Rick.
He’s here.
I gape at Mike—though he can’t see me, so instead, I turn to Jen, nudging her arm.
“Rick is here,” I say.
She looks up from her phone, and a second later, her face mirrors mine.
“I thought Vicky said he quit?” she says.
“Well, yeah. I did too.”
I glance back at the ice—at the way Rick nods, and the way Mike claps him on the shoulder before skating away.
And I know.
That’s why Mike asked me for his number. He didn’t want to ‘show him what he was missing’—he wanted to ‘show him what he’s missing’.
And that’s just one of the many reasons I love him.