“We’re having a thing,” Jason says, digging his spoon into the ice cream.
“A thing?” Silas asks. “Is that, like, a relationship? I thought you were over those.”
“So did I.” Jason shrugs. “Did you get my text?”
“Sure did. Just came from Bayer’s place. I brought him a glass of water and tucked him in, so you’re off the hook.”
“Thank you.” I feel guilty, though. “How is he?”
“Fine, but…” Silas shakes his head. “He keeps saying the R word.”
I’m stumped. “Relapse? Revenge?”
“Retirement,” Silas and Jason say at the same time. And I swear both of them shudder. “That’s horrible, man,” Jason says.
“Yeah.” Silas clears his throat, and the mood is as somber as if someone died. “Early pre-game skate tomorrow.”
“I’ll set an alarm,” Jason promises.
Silas gives us a wave and heads off to bed.
“You have to work tomorrow?” Jason asks.
“Sure do. At the stadium, too.”
“What’s your new job this week?”
“Oh, you’ll see,” I promise. “You won’t be able to miss me.”
23
Jason
The next morning, I feel…reflective. I guess that’s the right word. It’s not that I regret asking Heidi to trust me. Our “thing,” as I insisted on calling it, is something I want.
But as I shower after the morning skate, I wonder if my rusty heart still knows what to do. Let’s face it—the last time I started dating anyone I was sixteen years old. I didn’t have to shave every day, and I thought a trip through the drive-thru at McDonalds was a fun night out on the town.
Heidi deserves only the best. I just wonder if that’s really me.
On the way home, I stop at the florist’s. Flowers never go out of style, right? “What should I bring home for my new girlfriend?” I ask the tattooed woman behind the counter.
“Honey,” she growls. “This is New York City. I have seventy-six different flowers in that cooler, from all over the world. Columbia. California. Ecuador. The Netherlands. Even Thailand. You gotta give me some guidance.” She opens a binder on the countertop that’s filled with photos of arrangements. She flips to a tab labeled Clueless Boyfriends & Husbands. “Here. This is your section.”
“Wow. You got us all figured out?”
“You’ve got no idea. Prices range from forty bucks to three hundred and fifty. And if you need to narrow down the occasion, I can guide you.”
“Guide me, then.” I point at an overflowing bouquet of pink flowers. “That’s nice, right?”
“Yeah, but those orchids say I’m sorry I forgot our six-month anniversary.”
“Oh.” When did flowers get so complicated? “What does this one say?” I point to another bouquet in red.
“That’s for when you canceled a dinner date because you had to work late.”
“Well, I’m looking for the bouquet that says we had a fun time together. That’s all. I want her to know I’m thinking happy thoughts about her.”
“Ah. You’re not up to page three yet. You’re still on page one.” She turns back a page.
“How many pages are there?”
“Thirteen.”
“What’s on page thirteen?”
Her glance is filled with disdain. “You don’t want to know. Listen up, Mr. Page One—we have some nice Peruvian lilies that just arrived. They look smashing with yellow roses.”
“Sold,” I say, slapping my credit card down on the counter.
“Okay. I’m on it.” She moves over to the cooler and opens the door. “How big a bouquet are we talking about, here?”
“Impressive,” I say. “But not obscene.”
She turns to me slowly. “Can I give you a word of advice?”
“Okay?” I’m not sure I have a choice, anyway.
“I’ll make you up a medium-sized bouquet, and she’s going to love it. But save the impressive bouquet for another time.”
“Why? Not enough roses in there?”
She shakes her head. “It’s easy to celebrate new relationships. You haven’t fucked it up yet. But someday you’re gonna come through my door again and say, ‘I need some flowers because I’m an imperfect human and started a fight about nothing.’”
“Yeah, okay,” I agree just to move things along.
“You don’t believe me,” she sniffs, pulling some pretty orange lilies out of the cooler and laying them gently onto a work surface. “But the rough times always come.”
“Yeah, thanks.” As if I need help remembering that.
Fifteen minutes later I walk into my apartment building carrying a very pretty bouquet. “For me?” Miguel asks. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Who’s a smartass?” I ask him, and he laughs.
“Nice choice for Heidi,” he says.
“How do you know they’re for her?” I ask as he presses the elevator button for me.
“Cause I got eyes. Have a good game tonight.”
“Thanks, man,” I say as the elevator door closes on his smirk.
I open my apartment door, hoping Heidi is already home. Striding into the living room, I find that she is. Unfortunately, half my hockey team is there, too, taking up all the sofa seats and sprawling on the floor.
To a man they all swivel their heads to watch me enter the room carrying a bouquet of flowers.
Heidi is seated at the front of the room, her computer on her lap. She looks up quickly, her eyes widening as she takes in the flowers and my startled expression.
As I watch, her cheeks pink up, and her mouth parts. And—boom—every hesitation I had this morning is gone. There’s just her intelligent eyes and that pencil behind her ear. She’s busy taking over the world, and I’m the lucky guy who gets to be here to watch.
“Hi,” I say into the silence.
“Hi.” Her blush deepens. “You’re late.”
“For…?” I’m a little confused right now.
“The meeting!” Bayer says, his bad leg propped on my coffee table. “Somebody doesn’t read his texts.”
“Whoops,” I say cheerfully. Then I cross the room, set the vase of flowers on the coffee table and lean in for a kiss. Our lips meet in a quiet snick, but there’s nothing quiet about the way I feel. I’m filled with a rush of optimism and gratitude as I help myself to a quick taste of her perfect lips before forcing myself to stand up again. “Carry on, then. Anybody want a water?”
When I turn around, I’m met with a row of astonished faces. Nobody raises his hand.
Whatever. I head into the kitchen to help myself. Someone joins me a couple seconds later. It’s Leo Trevi.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey, yourself. What’s this meeting about?”
“Silas’s birthday surprise. Georgia is going to be pumped when I tell her we’re going to a Delilah Spark concert.”
“Heidi found the tickets already?”
“She’s called, like, six ticket brokers, asking them to compete on price.”
I laugh because my girl is hilarious.
“So?” Trevi says. “You and Heidi? I didn’t see that coming.”
“Apparently you and I are the only ones.” I reach into the fridge for an apple that I didn’t have to shop for.
“That’s big, man. Her dad is going to lose his shit, though. Didn’t he threaten you at the fundraiser?”
I just shrug. “He hated the idea of his little girl in a trashy blog post. But that won’t happen again. Besides, he’s not the coach. He’s not the team owner or the GM. What’s he actually gonna do to me?”
Leo grins. “I don’t know, but maybe we need a secret panic phrase. If you think your life is in danger, text the secret phrase to my phone.”
“What phrase should we use?” I ask, humoring him.
“Butt pimple,” Leo suggests. Then he laughs.
“Somehow I don’t see myself needing a rescue. But thanks, man.” I fill up a glass and hand it to Leo. Then I get one for myself.
“Checks are fine,” Heidi says as we reenter the living room. “Or you can use the Belle Pepper Pay Portal.”
“Awesome,” O’Doul says, rising. “I’m in, but I gotta get back to my place now. It’s nap time.”
“Class dismissed,” Heidi says. “Watch for my invoice.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Leo says. “Hey—when do we get to tell Silas? I need a video of his face when he hears.”
“Not yet!” Heidi says. “I want the whole plan nailed down before he hears about it.”