“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” I grumble. “Just another error.”
“You’re full of them lately.”
“Thanks, Ma. You always know what to say.” I roll my eyes. She can’t see that, either.
“What do you want from me? I tried. But your uncle did everything according to the bylaws. If you’d opened that packet sooner, you would have understood what he was up to. And you could have fixed this before the deadline.”
“Thanks for that reminder.”
I shouldn’t be short with her, because she’s right. Several weeks have passed since that packet of documents was delivered. And I’ve spent all my time on three things: winning hockey games, traveling, and spending time with Charli. I haven’t had a moment for paperwork.
It’s been a great month. But I missed the con my uncle had pulled—as president of the board, he changed the date of our quarterly foundation meeting to coincide with one of Charli’s away games. She’ll be on a bus to Boston on the Friday afternoon when the board is meeting to vote on next quarter’s charitable activities.
I hadn’t registered my objection to the new date within ninety-six hours’ time. Which means my side of the family can’t wield our new majority like a cudgel, and I won’t be able to force my uncle to change the terms of my mother’s trust.
“Neil, I think your wife should support you on this,” my mother says. “You can ask her to change her plans and be there for you.”
Oh, hell no. “She doesn’t have plans, Mom. She has a game.”
“At four in the afternoon?”
I want to scream. “It’s an away game. She’ll be on a bus to Boston. They’ll leave at two. The game is at seven.”
“What if we flew her up there right after the meeting?” she asks. “We could have her at Teterboro by… six. Wouldn’t that work?”
I’m ashamed to say that I’ve already done this math. And of course, it doesn’t work out. “You can’t just jet in and arrive at the rink when they’re singing the national anthem. You have to be there with your team. This is Charli’s career. She can’t treat it like a hobby.”
“How about a sick day?” she suggests.
I’m betting Charli never took a sick day in her life. “Look, I’m sorry. Maybe this is God’s way of telling us not to fuck with Uncle Harmon.”
It had been a stupid idea in the first place. I should have known his evil ass would outmaneuver me.
“There’s always next quarter,” my mother says with a sigh.
And now I feel like a giant dick, because there won’t be any next quarter.
Then my mother twists the knife. “I sent you and Charli an email with several party venues today. Did either of you get a chance to look at them?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No, we haven’t had a chance. Like I said, there’s just too much going on in our lives to plan a party right now. It makes, uh, more sense to do this in the summertime.”
By then we’ll be divorced, of course. And my mother will stop asking.
I can’t believe I’d thought this lie was a reasonable idea. Our charade has accomplished nothing, except for me being an ass to my family and making Charli uncomfortable.
“I’ll plan the party by myself, then,” my mother says, sounding snippy. “You can’t get married and expect nobody to acknowledge it.”
“Mom.” I hold back a groan. “I have to go. We’ll talk about the party another time. For Christ’s sake, don’t book anything without speaking to me.”
She says a stiff goodbye, and I carry my phone back into the locker room where my teammates are horsing around together. Newgate is trying to recruit people to go with him to a party, but he’s having a hard time.
“Did I mention there will be Sports Illustrated swimsuit models there?” he asks, upping the ante.
“Look, Newguy.” Leo Trevi puts a hand on his shoulder. “I know this is difficult for you young bucks to understand. But some of us already found the perfect woman, and we’re happy going home to hang out with her.”
“Yeah, it’s date night,” Mike Beacon says.
“For me, too,” Silas agrees. “Delilah just got back into town.”
Newgate’s gaze swings to me. “And Drake? None of us can figure you out, man. Are you married for real, or is this just a phase?”
I chuckle uncomfortably as the whole room turns to hear the answer. Even though I’m close to these guys, I haven’t confided in my teammates at all. For very good reason. “It’s complicated.”
And that’s an understatement.
“Huh.” Newgate puts his hands on his hips. “Does that mean you’re in or out, tonight? It’s going to be awesome.”
“Sounds like fun,” I lie. “But I guess it’s date night for me, too, since the Bombshells have the night off.”
“I’m stoked!” Anton agrees, shouldering his bag. “Sylvie better be waiting for me at home. Naked. In our bed. It’s been a long week.”
He’s not wrong. We got back from a road trip last night at eleven. I climbed into bed beside a sleeping Charli and passed right out. She was gone when I woke up.
“What are you doing for date night?” Newgate asks.
“I kind of need to buy a sofa,” I tell him. “And I thought Charli and I could go look at them.”
The whole room erupts with laughter. “Wait, wait. How long have you guys been married?” Castro asks. “Thirty days, or thirty years?”
“Jesus Christ, you really are an old married guy now!” Tank says, slapping me on the shoulder. “Welcome to the club, man.”
“Laugh all you want,” I tell them. “But I finally got rid of the couch you’ve all bitched about. The charity picked it up this week. And we can’t watch hockey in my apartment until I have somewhere for you assholes to sit.”
“We can’t watch TV in your apartment until you actually get a TV in that big-ass living room of yours,” Trevi points out.
“I’m working on it. But I need some guidance. Where do you shop for a couch?”
A silence falls over the room. Newgate shakes his head. “See this?” He loosens the towel from around his waist and flashes his cock at me. “It’s called a dick. The fact that I have one means I don’t shop for furniture.”
“You must be very proud,” I deadpan. “I guess I’ll just google it, then.”
“Don’t you have people for this?” Castro asks.
“Yeah, but the decorator bought that first monstrosity, so I thought I would go it alone this time.” I pull out my phone to google furniture stores in Manhattan, but I text Charli, instead. Big idea! Let’s go buy a couch tonight. You down?
My phone rings a moment later. “Hey,” she says, a little breathless. “Long time no speak. I didn’t even hear you come to bed last night.”
“It was late.” I sit down on the bench so I can give her my full attention. “We’re having dinner later, right?”
“If you still want to,” she says.