16. Chapter 16
Dom
The second period ends. The Vancouver Vortex are leading three to two. With Mariana's brothers currently out front, everyone is having a blast.
The suite we're in is about the same size as the one we get for home games at the Strike's stadium.
It has enough room for food and drinks in the back, and a few rows of seats in the front overlooking the action.
That's where my friends and I have spent most of our time.
They sprawl over the space and chat with Mariana and her mom, while I remain in my corner seat and chat only with my immediate neighbors.
It's been a little awkward, but I'll survive it.
Anything to appear unbothered around anyone from my past. Especially them.
Logan and Evie sat next to me during the second period, but the QB gets up now to get drinks while Evie and I get on our phones.
"I thought you'd be up there mingling," I say to her with a teasing grin.
She doesn't take her eyes off her screen, but echoes my smile. "I have been. I will. This first."
"What's so interesting?"
Evie's eyes are glued to her phone. "As I suspected, there's media coming out about the football players attending a hockey game where everyone's connected. With the owner of the Vortex being the mother of two hockey players, and the football team's GM…"
"Mh, it seems you've read more about the Sinclairs since the last time we talked about them."
"Yep. Dad and Mom changed headquarters a lot since they married, but these days they spend most of their time moving through a handful of cities in North America.
They slowed down after Alicia left the charity to the eldest daughter back in the UK, and came here to buy the Vortex— I don't understand that part yet— and James' business exploded. Which you know, of course."
"Which makes me wonder why you're telling me."
She grins. "I'm hoping you'll explain why she bought the Vortex when her family were diplomats."
"I don't know." I shrug. "I always thought it was because their kids played the game."
I keep up the chat casually, despite being distracted by the text notification I expect to be from my mom but isn't.
Mariana: you can't sulk in your corner all night.
I narrow my eyes at my phone. In an automatic move, I glance at her. She's chatting with her mom, Bear, and Pen. Beaming. With her cell tight in her hand.
God, I still can't wrap my head around having a quickie with her in the study room, or the battling emotions that swept through my chest when she appeared in the pool room, asking me to vent my anger via text.
Something soft, and something rough. Jagged.
Like having sex with Mariana again— when I thought that could never happen— that it wouldn't happen— opened a door to a space within me that hasn't seen light in years.
I'm not sure of what's in there or whether I want to look, but sealing it off isn't in my control.
Just in case I get a chance to close that imaginary door, I collect mental wooden boards and nails.
Grip a hammer tight in my fictional hand.
Because I happened to read the last several texts I sent her so long ago.
The one when she left for England, and the collection of messages I sent her when I called her and she hung up on me.
The ones that remained marked with 'not delivered' in red beneath them.
All of them brought a pang to that space between my lungs, and blew oxygen on the simmering annoyance I've found solace in.
Dom: Are you seriously scolding me now?
I press send and watch her read the text. She stares at me and shakes her head in a tiny, chiding movement meant only for me. I snort and turn to Evie.
It's fine. Even if I can't figure out why we ended up kissing and having angry sex that day, I'm letting it serve as closure. A final goodbye, after I re-read those texts she never received, and it brought me back to being alone with my need to fight for us.
If it's farewell of a new kind, my hurt can hurt less, and my anger can tone down.
A good release has a way to bring about some peace.
Just not enough to have everything settled and resolved.
It's okay. Eventually the anger will go away too and, if I can do that, the emotional distance I've been looking for will be mine at last.
"Right." I frown and turn to Evie. "Are people in the media implying some sort of bias?"
I gaze down at the rink. The Zamboni takes care of the ice, while the large screens hanging from the ceiling in the middle of it all match game attendee lookalikes with famous people. Laughter erupts periodically around us.
"That's precisely what I'm monitoring," Evie says, ignoring the entertainment. "I knew it could be an issue when we accepted the invitation, but it's not like this stuff never happens."
"I bet that's why Cora isn't here. She has power over our contracts, and Alicia Montt wouldn't let her daughter show up if it could cause bad press. Casual relationships with a small subsection of players could look like favoritism to some people."
That has Evie casting a sideway glance at me. "Or, hear me out. Cora decided not to come to not blur the lines. All these circles— they're actually small. Overlaps happen."
I scratch my eyebrow. "Okay. I hear you."
The screens above the ice are now showing our group.
I scoff at the cheers and boos mixed in, and laugh when they put the kiss cam on Nat and Damián, then Saint and Ames, then Pen and Bear.
Date Night is written in hot pink, with a glowing heart where they frame each couple as they share respectable kisses in public. They get cheered on each time.
I didn't expect it to land on Evie and me. We startle and shake our heads vehemently, which only gets everyone louder. I point at Logan with one hand, while using the other to run a finger over my throat, like I'm afraid the QB would kill me. Evie points at her engagement ring and at Logan.
It's her fiancé that comes to the rescue, jumping to her side, turning her head to him, and planting a big kiss on her lips.
I feign relief by pretending to melt on my chair.
The camera leaves our section altogether, and Evie and I laugh. Logan shakes his head as fans in the level below us clap.
"The two of you," Logan growls. "Come chat with everyone. Stay out of trouble."
Evie and I laugh again, but do as told.
The game starts again, but I stay behind filling up a plate with food by the bar. That's where Alicia Montt approaches me.
"Dominic. Interesting seeing you again after all this time."
I smirk and gaze at her. She's aging beautifully.
Still dressing with that understated-yet-elegant look.
Her hair is peppered with white, unhidden despite the highlights that give depth to her dark brown hair.
More wrinkles than I remember surround her eyes.
Her make up is flawless. She smirks at me, too.
"Interesting word choice, Mrs. Sinclair." I put the plate down, clean my hands, and shake hers.
"You know I go by Alicia Montt," she says. "And that you can call me Alicia."
"I wasn't sure, after so long. Would you like a drink? Can I get you anything?"
I'm being overly polite. She's hosting the night, but I'm the one making sure she's comfortable.
"I'd love some wine, thank you," she replies.
I find a glass and study the selection of reds on the bar. Inspired by the fancy dinners I've had over the years, I pick a bottle and present it to her.
"Would you like a taste?" I ask.
"I know this wine. It will do. Thank you, Dominic."
"You know I go by Dom." I pour a deep, rich red in the glass, and offer it to her.
"I wasn't sure how proper you wanted me to be, after all this time." She lifts her glass in a small toast and sips from her drink. "Especially with all this formality."
I grab an energy drink, toast back, and sip. "If memory serves, your family cares a lot about manners and courtesy."
"And you don't? I don't remember you being rude, Dom."
"I manage if it's asked of me, but I'm much more casual."
"You're charming when you want to, I know that." She sips from her wine. "Congratulations on winning the championship last season."
"Thank you. We're hoping to win again."
"So I hear." She gives me a small smile. "I hope you do."
We study each other for a few seconds. Her well-wishes seem genuine, but I don't think it's more than general politeness.
As much as I want to prove to Alicia and her husband that I'm as successful as their children, I don't know that my achievements are enough to impress them.
To them, being at the top of my field is the bare minimum.
Alicia is about to add something else when she and I get distracted by Mariana coming to our side.
"Everything okay?" She's wringing her hands again, but catches herself and puts both of them in her pockets.
I wrap my drink in a couple of paper napkins, to catch the condensation and keep my hands busy. If I don't, I might end up reaching out for her. Again. Saying yes to more things than I meant to, just because her anxiety is showing up once more, and it makes me want to take care of her.
Closure. I'm supposed to be feeling like I can truly let go of things one day. Not sliding back to how things used to feel when we were happy and in love.
I don't make the same mistakes twice. I'm not letting tenderness get in the way of finally putting an end to this chapter of my life.
It's been years, man. Get over yourself.
"Absolutely," Alicia replies. "Dom is a perfect gentleman."
"I'm not so concerned about him," Mariana says, challenging eyes toward her mom.
Alicia laughs. "I would never be anything but polite, Mariana."
"Especially since people are paying attention," I add. "The media are talking about the owner of the Vancouver hockey team inviting players from the Seattle football team. The one where one of her daughters is the GM, and another the Foundation director."
The older woman purses her lips, but humor remains on her gesture.
"This is why it's so important to be exemplary.
We're too privileged as a family to rest on our laurels and do nothing with it.
But no one can criticize you if you keep everything clean and above board.
And if you're the best at what you do, then they have to admit it. "
"You know people can criticize anything, even things that are done right." Mariana glances at me, but still doesn't speak in my direction. "Some people just want to disapprove."
I narrow my eyes, but say nothing. She's talking about people in general. And also her mom. And me. Definitely me.
This time I can't attempt any kind of comment, as indirect as I may want to make it. Not in front of Alicia.
"As long as you excel at what you do," Alicia says, "criticism lands empty.
Besides, you can't control their judgment, but you can control your behavior.
Focus on that. On your goals and what you choose to do with everything you have.
That's integrity. You know that's why Cora decided not to come and we're meeting for lunch tomorrow instead. "
So Evie was right. Fine. It doesn't change the fact that I don't fit with this family. It's clear Alicia Montt won't accept anything less than a faultless life, and I'm well aware I'm an imperfect man.
Mariana sighs. "That I can't argue."
"If you don't mind," I say. "I promised I'd grab drinks for Nat and Damián."
It's a lie, but I take two cans out of the fridge and hold everything in my hands.
"Wonderful to see you again, Alicia." I nod to her, then Mariana. "I will make sure to say goodbye when the game ends."
"Of course. I hope you're enjoying the evening," Alicia says.
"I am." I give her a charming smile. "Thanks for having me. If you'll excuse me."
I leave.
Nat and Damián are surprised and appreciative when I sit next to them and give them the drinks. The game is looking like a win for the Vortex, but I know better than to say that out loud. Wouldn't want to jinx a team's chances. I get on my phone, finally checking Mariana's texts from earlier.