“That’s not the kind of man for you.”
“Why do you even care?” I take a couple of steps closer. “You’ve never cared about who I date before.”
“Roman Moretti is perfect for you. He doesn’t mind that you have no ambition.”
No ambition.
Well, I guess that’s how it looked when I decided not to go to college to look after Cat. Still, my stomach tightens, and I bite down on my bottom lip.
“I am not getting back with Roman,” I say.
“You haven’t given him a chance.”
“And I’m not going to. Goodnight, Vince.”
I flee, heading to my room.
I hate arguing with Vince. I’m used to him being indifferent to my presence, not pestering me to go out with someone. I appreciate that he continues to provide for me even though I’m not his biological child, but he’s not my father, and he has no say in who I date or marry. Jeez, even my real dad wouldn’t do that.
I undress and put on my nightshirt.
Most of the time Vince doesn’t care what I do. But for some reason, this has become a mission for him. I don’t totally get it. And I hate it.
I sit on the edge of my bed, fingers clenched together, and stare at the rug.
Vince thinks I’m dating Owen, which is good. We’re pulling it off. But it is annoying Vince. My insides roll unhappily. I don’t know to what extent he’ll go to get what he wants. It worries me. Maybe I should end things with Owen.
I’ll sleep on it.
We’re at a place called the Amber Horse, near the Apex Center. It’s long and narrow with concrete floors, a high, dark ceiling, and big frosted windows. The bar runs all the way down one long side of the room, which is packed this Saturday night.
Some of Owen’s teammates are already here, and they wave from the back. Owen clears a path through the crowd with his impressive stature, me following in his wake. I take in the looks he gets from men and women, some of them looks of recognition, others admiration. He does look amazing in a suit.
Somehow, we find a few stools and pull them up to a couple of small tables grouped together. The guys are standing, the girls sitting. Owen holds the back of the stool for me as I climb on.
“Everybody, this is Emerie,” Owen calls.
I lift my hand in greeting, taking in the crowd. I don’t know anyone, but they all give me friendly smiles.
“Do you want me to name everyone?” Owen asks in my ear.
“Yes, please.” I’m good with names.
He goes through a list pointing. “That’s Barbie. And his wife Nadia.”
“Wait. Barbie?” He’s pointing to a big guy with shaggy hair and a crooked nose.
“That’s his nickname. Igor Barbashev.”
“Igor.” I nod. “And Nadia. Hi!”
“Guess I’ll use real names,” Owen mutters. “Hunter and Kate. Josh and Sara. Colton and Layla.”
Yikes. I recognize Layla. She’s a model.
“Evan and Hannah. And Easton and Lilly.”
“Hi!” I repeat everyone’s names, noting something about them so I’ll remember.
“And single dudes Jammer, I mean Jamal, and Brandon.”
“Hi guys.”
We order drinks, Owen requesting just water. I decide to have a beer.
“So was Moretti in your box?” Owen asks me. He moves in close, his body pressing lightly against mine.
Heat curls low inside me. Trying to ignore it, I give him shocked eyes. “What?”
He winces. “In, uh, the box. You know.”
“Oh, right!” I grin and he does too, shaking his head.
“You knew what I meant all along.”
“Yeah.”
“You have a dirty little mind.” He pauses. “I like that.”
My heart bumps. “I don’t know if he was up there. I didn’t sit there.”
“Oh. I thought you would.”
I shrug. “I bought myself a ticket.” I didn’t want to take a chance on Roman being there again. “It was a great seat, only three rows off the glass.”
“Shit. I didn’t even see you.”
“Do you pay any attention to the people in the crowd?”
“Sometimes. If they’re hot.”
I lower my chin and give him a look.
He bursts out laughing. “I’m kidding.”
“Not me,” Brandon puts in. “I always notice the beautiful women. You were in section one twelve, right?”
“Uh…yeah.” I blink at him.
Owen frowns. “Hey.”
Brandon laughs. He’s very good looking, with a charming, boyish smile. “Don’t get your jock strap in a twist. I can’t help but notice pretty girls.” He winks at me.
I can’t help but smile at his flirty comments.
“When’s your next game?” I ask.
Owen picks up my hand and twines his fingers through mine. I gaze down at it, taken aback, but also…enjoying it. I melt a little inside. “Monday. A quick trip to Raleigh. Then Wednesday against New Jersey.”
I nod.
“After that we’re off for three weeks. For the All Star game and the Olympics.”
“Oh wow. You get a holiday.”
“Yep.”
“Aruba, baby!” Igor shouts, lifting his drink.
“Ve vill drink rum!” Nadia calls. “Lots of rum!”
I grin. I love their accents. “You’re going to Aruba?” I ask them.
“Ve all are,” Nadia says, waving a hand. “Eet will be a party.”
“You too?” I ask Owen.”
He makes a face. “Maybe. Depends on what happens next week.”
“What’s next week?”
“They pick the all stars for the All Star Game. If I get picked, I won’t be able to go.”
“Oh. That sounds like a tough choice. All star or a week in Aruba.”
“I’m not much of a partier.”
I give him a look. “Oh, come on. You could let loose for a bit.”
“Yes!” Nadia agrees. “You tell him, Emerie.”
“Aruba’s beautiful,” I say. “I went there once. You’ll have a great time.”
“You are not coming?” Nadia asks.
I quickly shake my head. “Oh, no.”
“You should come!”
“Da!” Igor says. “Yes, come!”
I glance at Owen with a tiny headshake.
“You could come.” His hand moves to my upper back and rubs. More melting occurs. Touching is part of the deal, I guess. I just wasn’t prepared for how it would make me feel. “If I go.”
I turn and whisper in his ear, “We don’t have to go that far.”
He shrugs. “It’d be fun.”
It does sound like fun. A trip with a bunch of friends. I’ve never done that. A wistful feeling unfurls inside me. “I can’t leave Cat that long.” I meet his eyes. I told him about her, about her problems when she was younger. She’s so much better now, but still…
He nods in understanding.
“It’s not even a week,” Layla says to me. “Six days.”
She doesn’t understand my situation with Cat. Also, Owen and I barely know each other. I sigh inwardly. “I just can’t do that.”