Chapter 16
Olivia
I haven’t stopped thinking about Robbie for the last week. I dream about the way he hugged me and how perfect we fit together, like he was tailor-made for me. When I told him I couldn’t afford all the things he had planned for us in Chicago, I wanted to crawl under a rock and never show my face again. It felt humiliating to admit that to him, and I truly expected him to offer to pay for everything or get upset with me and cancel the plans.
When I was dating Weston, I always insisted on paying for my own food and tickets, mostly because his family already thought I wanted him for his money and I needed to prove them wrong. Not that it mattered in the end, but at least I had my principles. But every time he would plan something too expensive and I would tell him no, he would get mad and cancel the whole date. In hindsight, I probably should have seen that for what it was: a major red flag.
I think again about the places Robbie took me and smile to myself. It was perfect. He’s perfect. For the past week we’ve been comparing schedules and figuring out which cities we’ll be in together next. While I’m pretty meticulous with a planner, I don’t always enjoy planning things ahead of time. I like to just walk around sometimes and discover new places and food. But Robbie is adamant about looking up everything there is to do and see and make some plans ahead of time. We once again reached a compromise that he would do the planning and I would just show up. Except for this Sunday.
I will be in Wisconsin for the first time this season to officiate a game on Friday and then plan to see Jack and his family and return home Saturday afternoon.
When I told Robbie, he immediately went into planning mode and got me a ticket to the Saturday night game. He also planned to get another night at his hotel and booked a flight home instead of leaving with the team bus after the game. Since he has the day off Sunday as well and can fly out in the evening, that means we get to spend the whole day together.
So, instead of him planning everything out, I decided to take it upon myself and show him around the town I grew up in. I want to take him to my favorite taco place, go indoor mini golfing, and maybe even take him to meet my grandma.
I know it sounds stupid, but I really want her to like him. Grams and I are so close, she immediately figured out I had a growing crush on Robbie and insisted I put myself out there and ask him out. But I can’t. Can I?
What if all this is really just friendship to him?
I don’t want to look like a fool.
What if he’s got a girlfriend back home?
He doesn’t seem like the type of person to stay single for long.
What if he’s just getting close because he wants to hook up?
He doesn’t seem the type to do that either—and while he didn’t tell me any of his dating history during our heart-to-heart last time, he also said he wanted a family.
I’m overthinking again and I need to stop. I need to believe that he’s a good person and that he won’t break my heart if I let him in all the way. Otherwise I won’t ever make progress. I need to talk to him and find an answer to all of these questions swirling around in my brain before I even attempt to ask him out.
And what if he says no?
Then all I can do is hope he’ll still want to be my friend and move on.
As soon as I ring Jack’s doorbell, the door swings open and I’m enveloped in the biggest hug by Bonnie.
“Oh honey, I missed you so much! You are so skinny, have you been eating enough? I made roast chicken with potatoes and veggies and you need at least two servings,” she says all this while crushing me to her, which is surprising for a woman of her stature. She’s 5’2” with big round cheeks, lots of curves, and a short bob that’s mostly silver with black strands peeking through.
I chuckle and say, “I’m okay Bon, although I will never say no to your homemade cooking.” The woman makes the best food ever. I usually don’t cook because, for one, I don’t know how to, outside of the basic eggs and bacon, and, for two, I don’t really have the time to cook.
“Well, come in then, it’s cold out here,” she says and grabs one of my bags. I didn’t bring much with me since I’m only spending the night and then heading back home tomorrow, but my equipment is with me.
“Is that Olivia I hear?” Jack says from the living room where he’s watching a game of hockey and sipping a beer.
“Sure is, honey,” Bonnie says. “Why don’t you join him for a minute? The chicken is still roasting. You two catch up and I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
Jack stands up and gives me a hug, patting my back affectionately. I really missed him, and I feel bad for not reaching out more.
“Good to see you again, kiddo. How is the new job?”
I smile, “It’s really good, I can’t thank you enough for recommending me. Seriously.”
He shakes his head but smiles at me, “I just nudged you in the right direction. You have a good head on your shoulders and you know how to use it.”
I nod but worry my lip, which he notices immediately, “What’s that face for? Any troubles?”
“Not really. So far coaches and players have been respectful and the insults haven’t been too atrocious. But, there’s this one team that I’m a bit worried about. The Vortices. While the captain seems decent, the rest of the players are misogynistic and unnecessarily violent on the ice.” I blow out a breath. “I’m not sure what to do to de-escalate the situation sometimes.”
“Well, I know this is going to sound strange, but maybe try to not engage as much with them. Sometimes you need to let fights happen and assess the mood of the game. Let’s say the play has been going on for about a minute, and things are getting intense, and maybe you see a minor penalty; holding, for example. Sometimes, it’s best not to call something like that for the sake of the game flow. I know you want to make the right call all the time because you’re a people pleaser, but sometimes you need to make some choices in the moment, even if they anger the opposite team or the fans. Their anger is not your concern.” Jack says all of this slowly, making sure the advice sticks with me.
“Dinner’s ready!” Bonnie calls out from the kitchen and we both head to the table. I ponder the advice he gave me for the rest of the night and on the bus ride home. Maybe it’s time to take a different approach when it comes to the Vortices.
The Manticores win 4-0 the next day and all the players are ecstatic as they head out of the arena and toward the bus that will take them back to Grand Marquee. Except for one player. Beautiful blue eyes meet mine as soon as he spots me leaning against the wall by the players entrance and for a moment, my heart stutters. Is he getting more attractive every time I see him? He looks incredible. He’s freshly shaved this time, and his hair is getting a bit longer and curling at his ears and nape of his neck.
He gives me his signature Robbie smile, dimples and all, drops his small duffel bag, and picks me up for a hug. My hands immediately move around his neck and I squeeze tight. We’ve talked every day this week over calls and texts, but I didn’t have this. His presence, his warmth.
“Hey, I missed you,” I say.
I can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “I’ve missed you too, Olivia.” My feet touch the ground and the hug ends but I’m not ready to let him go yet. So I wait for him to pick up his bag, then link my arm with his and guide him towards my car.
“Do you want me to drive you straight to your hotel? Or should we get some food first?” I ask.
“Um, about that.” I look up at him and notice that his cheeks and top of his ears are pink. “I meant to make the reservation on the way here yesterday, but got completely sidetracked. And then I asked about extending my room here downtown but they were all booked for tonight,” he rambles on while I look at him, shocked.
“So, anyway, I technically don’t have a place to stay, but I’m sure there’s something between here and your house that we can find. Like a motel or something,” he trails off as he takes in the expression on my face and his eyes widen.
“You’re mad, aren’t you?” he asks softly.
My hand drops from his arm so I can dig around for my keys and he frowns as he looks down at it. Am I mad? That he doesn’t have a place to stay? No. I’m embarrassed about what I’m getting ready to offer, because there’s no way I’m letting him stay in a crappy motel on my side of town.
“I’m not mad. I promise,” I say, making sure to hold his gaze so he knows it’s the truth, “I’m just a little caught by surprise. You can obviously stay with me tonight, I have a spare bedroom, I just didn’t expect to show you my house. It’s not exactly in the best shape, or neighborhood,” I gaze down so he doesn’t see the embarrassment and tears pricking my eyes.
“Olivia,” he takes a step towards me and his hand reaches up to cup my face. Slowly, his fingertips make contact with my jaw and chin and he tilts my head up so I can meet his eyes. He looks sad. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“For what?” I breathe out. I think. My mind is blissfully blank right now as I stare into his gorgeous eyes.
“For making you feel bad over something you have no control over. I didn’t do this on purpose, just so you know. I truly did forget to make the reservation. And I completely understand if you don’t want me in your house. We can find some other accommodation for me. But I need you to know, “ he says, eyes sliding to my mouth for a second before returning to mine, “that nothing you could possibly say or show me would make me think any less of you. I wouldn’t judge you for the condition of your house.”
I relax more with his words. “Unless you lived in a cave or something. That would be weird and I would totally nope out,” he jokes and it makes me smile. His thumb traces up and rubs the dimple in my left cheek. I lean my head into his palm more and he brings his other hand to my back, pulling me into a hug. I rest the right side of my cheek on his chest, right above his heart and I feel him softly kissing the top of my head.
“No cave, I promise. And I do want you there,” I say quietly as he nods against me.
“Okay. How about we get some food to go?”
“Sounds perfect,” I say as we break apart and get in my car but I don’t miss the way his fingers linger on me, like he wants to hold me longer.
After eating pizza and having lengthy conversations about both of our games this weekend, we are both lazily lounging on my beaten up couch. Robbie is sitting at one end, his legs up on the ottoman, and I am sitting at the other end, my legs tucked underneath me, my head propped in my hand on the back of the couch as I watch him.
He’s very animated when he gets excited about a topic, and that makes me smile. I’ve started to notice lots of things about Robbie that make my stupid little heart stutter recently. Like how he talks with his hands and always tilts his head a little bit to the left when he’s giving me his full attention. Or how he always leaves generous tips when we get food or drinks together. But my favorite part about him is how his eyes light up and a smile takes over his face as he talks about his volunteer work with youth hockey teams.
“Sorry, I’m talking too much, aren’t I?” he says after catching me looking at him too long.
“Not at all, I like it when you talk,” I say.
“Are you sure? You know, you don’t have to be polite with me. You can just tell me to shut up. I grew up with two siblings who were just as annoying as me. I learned a long time ago not to be offended when someone tells me I’m being too much,” he laughs, but it’s a sad one, and I can’t help but think how wrong all those people were.
How dare they tell him he’s too much? He’s perfect.
“You’re perfect,” I tell him, just like he did back in Chicago, although I don’t think he meant to say that out loud. He looks at me the same way he did that night too, soft and thoughtful. He blinks at me a few times and I can see how tired he is after a long weekend.
“I think it’s time to go to bed,” I smile and get up. I move to the linen closet by the bathroom and grab two pillows, sheets, and a big fluffy blanket for him. When I turn, I see he’s standing as well, cleaning up the pizza plates and glasses we used earlier. “I can do that, you don’t have to.”
“I want to help,” he says and heads to the small kitchen. I take the pillows and blanket to the spare room and make up his bed. I can’t help but think he doesn’t belong in this place. Not because I think he has high standards and would never live in a crappy house, but because he’s just too beautiful, he deserves better.
I could see him taking in the small living room when he first walked in, with the old, worn out furniture, and carpet stains that have been there for years because I couldn’t afford to replace it. I expected him to look disappointed or to pity me, like Weston did when I first brought him to my house. But instead, Robbie smiled as he looked down at me and asked “Where do you keep all your hockey memorabilia? I need to see it.”
I hear his footsteps down the hall and when I turn back I see him leaning sideways on the door frame watching me. He crosses his arms and part of his shirt rides up, giving me a glimpse of well-defined muscle. He looks so good in his athleisure black pants and T-shirt.
Did I imagine him? Make him up in my mind after reading too many romance novels?
“You didn’t have to do that for me, I could have made the bed,” he says and covers up a yawn.
“You’re my guest. Deal with it.”
“Well, you are an incredible hostess, Miss Wilson,” he smiles and moves into the room, plopping down on the mattress. As soon as his head hits the pillow he closes his eyes and lets out a satisfied sigh. I can’t help but stand there on the side of the bed watching him. My fingers itch to reach out and touch him. Anywhere. Everywhere. I want to push the long strands of hair off of his forehead and run my hands over his jaw the way he did to me earlier in the parking lot. I want to feel how soft his lips are. I want…
“What did you plan for us tomorrow?” he says, and I realize his eyes are now open and watching me. That soft smile is back on his face as he pats the bed next to him for me to sit.
I slowly perch on the side of the bed facing him and say, “Well, I’ll need to skip my league game, but I am taking you to a really delicious diner for brunch, then we’ll be mini golfing. Indoors, and glow in the dark,” I whisper that last part and notice a dip in his eyebrows.
“Why would you skip your league game?” he asks tiredly.
“Well, you’re my guest. I’m not going to ditch you and go play where you can’t join. But it’s fine, we can do something else instead. There is a museum of illusions around here, that could be fun?—”
“No,” he says, suddenly sitting up.
“You hate museums or something?” I try to joke.
“Olivia. Are you kidding me? You cannot deprive me of seeing you play hockey. That’s not fair. How many times did you see me play?”
“Robbie, it doesn’t count as watching you play if I’m there reffing,” I say on a laugh.
“Okay, what about yesterday?” he counters.
Well, he’s got me there.
“Fine, I’ve seen you play once,” I roll my eyes at him.
“And now it’s my turn. You’re going to that league game, and you’re going to win.”
I smile and shake my head at his insistence. “And if I don’t?”
“Then we can’t be friends anymore,” he says with mock seriousness.
“Shut up,” I lightly shove him back and he goes without a fight. I stand up and grab the king size fluffy blanket. It gets cold at night and I usually keep the temperature at 65 year round, so I want to make sure he’s comfortable. I fluff it up and throw it over him as he turns on his side and burrows in the pillows. I tuck him in lightly and he chuckles.
As I crouch down by his face I notice his eyes are closed, and I finally get my chance. My fingers reach out and gently brush his hair up and to the side. Robbie lets out a content sigh again and the corners of his mouth tug up. He opens one eye to peek at me and I run my hand over it and close it back, “Go to sleep, Robbie. Have a good night.”
“Goodnight, Olivia.”
I stand up and slowly move to the door, but before I can close it, Robbie says, “Olivia?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For letting me in.” My heart leaps, because I know he means more than just my house.
“Only you,” I whisper and close the door.