I’m just dropping off Apollo, then heading home.
I hold my phone, feeling its small weight in my palm. Then I tap in another message. How about dinner?
We’ve gone out on what I guess could be called dates, but after we had sex that first time, we basically agreed that’s what we were doing—having sex. She doesn’t want a relationship as much as I don’t, so that’s great.
Maybe I should have just asked for a booty call.
I roll my eyes. That’s not what this is about, even though I want to pretend it is.
My phone buzzes and I start. I glance down at it.
Okay, sure.
I smile. I’ll come by your place at seven.
I get a thumbs-up emoji in return.
I grin at Otis. “We better go for a walk now. I’ve got a hot date.”
* * *
—
She answers her door wearing black leggings, a big, loose blue sweater with a cowl-neck, and her usual boots. “Hi!”
“Hi.” For a moment, I’m without words. I don’t know why. She looks casual and put-together but not speech-robbing. It’s her smile that does it—wide and glowing and engaging, her eyes full of light and life.
“I’m ready.” She pulls her jacket on and picks up her purse from the small table near the door. “I feel like Otis is missing.”
“He can’t come on a date with us.”
She locks her door and slants me an amused glance. “Is that what this is?”
“Call it what you want.”
We step outside and descend the stairs to the sidewalk. “Where are we going?” She tugs the neck of her soft sweater up under her chin.
“Let’s walk up to Broadway and hail a cab. There’s a place in Hell’s Kitchen I like.”
“Okay. We can take the subway, though.”
“I’ll spring for a cab tonight.”
“That’s very generous of you.”
I laugh. “That’s me.”
Luckily we have no trouble getting a taxi which makes its way through bumper-to-bumper Manhattan traffic to the restaurant.
“I’ve never been here,” Lilly says as we get out of the car at Piccolo. “This looks fancy.” She glances down at herself.
I know what she’s thinking. “You’re fine.” I set my hand on the small of her back to enter the eatery.
I called and made a reservation right after she agreed to have dinner. This is a popular place, but I got lucky and we’re shown to a table for two. She slides onto the banquette and I take the upholstered chair opposite her.
“This is the best thing on the menu.” I read off the description of the black linguine with lobster in a spicy tomato sauce.
“That sounds amazing.”
“You order it. I’ll get something else, and we can share again.”
“Are you sure?”
It’s one of my favorite dishes in the world, but I’m sure. “Yeah.” I look over the menu. I end up ordering veal scaloppini with artichoke hearts, blue cheese, and truffles.
We also get a bottle of Sangiovese, which the waiter pours into enormous glasses.
“This is lovely.” She catches her bottom lip between her teeth. “You’ve been taking me to all these nice places and I feel guilty.”
“Why?”
Her lips now press together briefly. “I can’t afford places like this these days.”
I don’t want to dismiss her feelings, but she really doesn’t need to feel guilty. I also don’t want to sound like I’m bragging about how much money I have. “Next time, you pay.”
One corner of her mouth hooks up in a wry smile. “Okay. Can’t wait to take you to McDonald’s!”
I laugh. “That’d be fine with me. I love a Big Mac.”
Lilly sips her wine, then holds up her glass. “I feel like we should be celebrating something.”
“More like drowning my sorrows.” I make a face.
“Uh-oh.” Her eyes soften. “What?”
I tell her about the power play and Coach’s dick move.
She bites her lip. “Is it possible it’s justified?”
“No!” I lower my voice. “No. I know I screwed up last game, but I don’t deserve that. It’s not like I haven’t been scoring.”
“Okay then, he’s just a twatwaffle.”
I choke on a laugh.
She leans closer across the table. “You’ve heard of karma?”
“Yeah.”
She nods knowingly. “He’ll get his.”
“Fuck, I hope so. I hope I can survive until it happens.”
“Does it make you that miserable?” She sips her wine.
“I try not to let it. I don’t want it to mess with my head and make things even worse. I just get so…furious. It’s frustrating. I hate feeling like I have no control.”
“You do have control. You always have choices.”
I frown.
“But there are consequences, of course. As I know.” She rolls her eyes.
She does know. And I know too, that’s why I try to keep my mouth shut. “I tried to defend myself yesterday when we had our meeting, but he obviously didn’t like that.”
“I’m sorry.” Sympathy shadows her eyes and she reaches for my hand. “It sucks. You’re one of the best hockey players in the world, doing what you love, and you should be happy about what you’ve accomplished.”
My forehead creases. “Do I sound ungrateful?”
“No! That’s not what I meant. I meant it’s a shame that you’re in a situation like this.” She bites her lip. “Would you want to be traded again?”
I close my eyes. “I can’t do that. They were happy to get rid of me in Vancouver. If I ask for another trade, my reputation will be shit.” More than it already is.
“I understand.”
I meet her eyes and it occurs to me that she totally understands…because she’s been through this. She knows what it’s like to try to do your best and do the right thing and be criticized for it. To be unfairly accused of not being a team player, when the truth is she was trying to be the best team player.