Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
EMMA
MAY
Liam and I sat in the seats below the WAGs box in Boston, my leg bouncing as we watched the Rusties warm up.
We wanted to get out of the swirl of the seemingly four million children between all the families there.
Liam had already been tackled several times by a mob of Harlan’s teammates’ children while playing mini hockey.
The real game hadn’t even started and he was already touched out.
He sat two seats away from me so he could stretch out.
I sank my teeth into a mustard-covered hot dog.
“Mom, how many hot dogs is that?”
“If I don’t eat a hot dog, my team loses. And more hot dogs means more winning. It’s science.”
Liam screwed up his face. “Then what happened in Cincinnati? You got a hot dog then.”
“That’s baseball. Different rules.”
“Sure,” Liam said slowly. “But more people eat hot dogs at baseball games than hockey games.”
“Do you really want to argue with science?”
The tips of Liam’s ears turned pink and he sat forward, giving a small wave of his hand. I searched the ice for his target and found Owen standing next to Garner, pointing up at us. Garner’s wife waved behind us, and I waved over my head, just in case Owen was really waving at me and not Liam.
“You’re being embarrassing,” Liam grumbled.
“What?” I asked. “Those are my coworkers down there. They were mine first.”
“Owen’s not mine,” he protested. “We’ve talked at like, two things. He’s just nice.”
My mom-ly Spidey sense told me I’d accidentally touched a nerve.
I rarely pushed Liam about who he was interested in.
“You’re right. Total sweetheart.” I twisted in my seat to look behind me, reading the other WAG jackets.
“I didn’t see anyone with his name on their jacket, either. Doesn’t seem like he has a partner.”
“Good for him,” Liam sniffed.
I patted his leg. “I’m going to go talk to Mara. And maybe even eat another hot dog.”
Tension prevailed in the WAGs suite. The Rusties were down 4-2 going into the third. Harlan had to be kicking his own ass over the four that got past him, but I knew to leave him alone. Once he was locked in for a game, he stayed in. No phone. No bullshit.
A two goal game is anybody’s game. Hockey could flip in a matter of seconds. A couple good rebounds, a couple lucky breaks, and it could be tied up.
Just before the team came out for the third period, Liam pulled his ballcap low and checked his phone. He coughed and I patted his back. “Alright, buddy?”
“Um, Owen just asked if I want to hang out after the game.”
I fought the urge to smirk. There could be worse sons-in-law than Garner Owen. “Oh. Well, you can do what you like. Harlan and I’ll be alright.”
“Ew, Mom.”
“What was gross about that? I said we’ll be alright.”
“Just, I don’t want to think about the two of you alone.”
I chuckled. “I didn’t ask you to.” I nudged his side. “Do you get this way about your dad and Michelle?”
“Sick! Don’t make me start!” he whined.
“I’m just saying, your imagination is not my problem.”
Liam huffed. “I’m getting nachos.”
I tweaked his cheek before he stood up. “You do that, baby.” Play started again as he was scooting in front of me and I grabbed his wrist. “Wait.”
Owen had a breakaway. I stood, gripped Liam’s bicep, and slapped his forearm with my other hand. Owen deked a few times, then oh-so-elegantly slipped the puck right through Nashville’s goalie’s five hole.
“That’s my boy!” Liam shouted, while I just screamed nonsense. High fives were exchanged around our suite.
4-3. Only down by one and with a fighting chance. I was way too charged up to sit, so I went with Liam up into the box. I high-fived Jeanine, Mara, and Violet when I got there.
Play resumed. I grabbed a drink and stood next to Jeanine.
“Crazy that he might be in L.A. next year,” Jeanine said.
“Who?” I asked.
“Royce?” She peered over at me and grimaced. “Oh, shit. Dylan talked to Obi, and yeah, I guess he probably wasn’t supposed to say anything. I just . . . assumed he would have told you.”
I waved a hand. “It’s no big deal,” I croaked, but any fool could tell I was lying. “That’s exciting for him.”
Jeanine put her arm around me and squeezed my shoulder. “You guys have had a lot going on. I’m sure there’s a good reason he didn’t tell you.”
We tied it up right before overtime, and I exchanged all the requisite high-fives and hugs. But I felt numb. Harlan and I had always communicated well. He knew I wasn’t interested in secrets, so it hurt that he’d kept this from me.
Jeanine was right. He probably had a good reason. But I wouldn’t know for sure until I talked to him about it.
I was quiet as we headed back to our hotel room. It was hard for me to feel warm and fuzzy.
The door clicked shut behind us and I pressed my back against it.
Harlan looked over me, concerned. “What’s going on?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you might be going to L.A.?”
Harlan slumped his shoulder into the door and ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”
“I mean, I hope you have a good reason. Because I hope you wouldn’t lie to me.”
“No. Not at all. I was waiting until Liam graduated, and now we’re deep in the playoffs. I didn’t want to change the focus. And I didn’t want to upset you or make it about me.”
I nodded and sniffed. “I get it. How long have you known?”
He threaded his fingers into his hair, holding the back of his head with his elbows forward. “Since the shutout. The day after.”
“When I said I love you.” I hated that my eyes filled with tears. “I’m happy for you. Really, I am. It’s a great opportunity.”
“Emma, I’m sorry.” Harlan’s arms wrapped around me and I cried harder. His hand cupped the back of my head and he held me closer.
“I’m crying but really, truly, I’m so happy for you. Los Angeles is a great city. A huge market. And they’d probably pay you more.” I hiccuped and Harlan kissed the top of my head.
“Em.”
“They have so many good restaurants,” I tried. “The grocery stores . . .”
“Emma.”
My fingers curled into his jacket. “I wish I still hated you,” I warbled.
Harlan chuckled, and when he held me back by my arms, his eyes were wet. “Don’t lie, Chef. You still do.”
We both laughed, and his thumb swiped at my cheek.
“I hate you for making me laugh,” I said through my tears.
He nodded. “I know.”
Harlan’s fingers laced in mine and we both leaned against the wall. Those indigo eyes seemed deeper than ever, a color I wished I could capture and wear every day. “If I go, I want you to come with me.”
I stopped breathing, my brows stitching together. “What?”
“I don’t want to break up. I want you with me. Wherever I am.”
“Harlan.”
“I won’t go without you,” he went on.
I screwed up my face. “What? What do you mean?”
“I mean, if you want to stay, we’ll stay.”
“No. No no no. You can’t do that. This is too big for that.”
He shrugged. “I can do that, actually. You see, there’s this thing where I want to be around you—”
I looked up at the ceiling, stomped my foot, and groaned. “Don’t mansplain it, you dick!”
He smirked. “But it’s what I do best.”
I shook my head and sniffled, but I couldn’t hold back my smile. “I can’t stand you.”
He wrapped his arms around me. “I know. We both know that’s the best part.”
I nestled my face into his chest. “I get why you didn’t tell me. This sucks.”
“Thank you. I didn’t want to ruin everything when I don’t even know which I want.”
“I’m sad for you that you were going through this alone, though.”
He held me tighter. “It’s been hard not telling you.”
“I bet. I don’t want to choose. And I don’t want you to have to choose.”
His lips pressed into my hairline. “Statistically, at least one of us has to.” I groaned and he tipped my chin up to him. “Say it.”
“I can’t.” Looking at his stupid, beautiful, smug face made me sad all over again. My eyes burned again and his face fell.
“No, no. If you don’t, I’ll make you say it,” he warned.
I shook my head and whimpered. “I love you.”
He pouted down at me, looking genuinely sad. “No. Not that one.” He kissed between my brows. “I want the other one, princess.”
“I can’t. Not now.”
He bolted the door behind me before hoisting me up into his arms. “You leave me no choice.”