As I approach Cloud Gate, the official name of the big, reflective steel sculpture in Millennium Park that locals have dubbed The Bean, I’m able to spot Jonah immediately, because he’s already drawn attention. A small group of people is clustered around him.
“Hey man, can we get another one with my brother in it?” a man is asking him.
“Sure,” Jonah says.
The guy snaps a couple selfies and asks Jonah if he thinks the Blaze will make it to the playoffs this year.
“I hope so,” Jonah says, grinning.
A woman cozies up to him for another photo, pressing her temple to his cheek. Jonah takes it in stride, smiling but not putting his hands on her like she’s doing to him.
“Hey guys, I gotta go,” he says as he signs an autograph for a boy and passes the paper back to him. “My girlfriend’s here.”
People start looking around, and when they follow his gaze to me, the looks turn to stares. As Jonah walks over to me, camera phones are whipped out of pockets and purses. My heart skips a beat as he approaches and I realize…I was wrong.
Jonah’s not really pretty at all. I mean, his eyes are definitely pretty. But wearing a gray T-shirt, black shorts and tennis shoes, with dark blond stubble and a backward baseball hat, he looks…manly.
He puts his arms around my waist and pulls me close, murmuring “hey” as his lips meet mine for a kiss. This one is nothing like our first. I smell his light cologne and feel the press of my soft curves against his hard chest as his tongue gently brushes mine. One of his hands comes up to cup the back of my neck as he pulls away, resting his forehead on mine.
“I like the ponytail,” he says softly.
“Thanks,” I manage, breathless.
He slides his hand around mine and asks, “Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” I say, even though it’s only 11:00 a.m.
Kai and I made the homemade scrub videos this morning, and we barely had time to finish that and get me ready for this date. I haven’t had anything to eat yet today.
Jonah lists a few different eateries in the area. “Are you hungry for breakfast food or lunch? There’s a good seafood place nearby, lots of great bar food places, or we could get some Chicago dogs.”
“Oh!” I smile brightly. “I want to try Chicago hotdogs.”
“Let’s do it. I figured we could walk to Navy Pier and stop there on our way.”
“Sounds like fun.”
He keeps hold of my hand as we walk, the sunny skies and light breeze making for a perfect day to be out in the city.
“Great game the other night,” I say. “I watched it with my roommate.”
“Thanks. Did you like watching it?”
“I actually did,” I admit. “It’s hard to see the puck on TV, but I liked the announcers telling me what was going on.”
“You’ll like it a lot more when you see it in person.”
“My roommate asked if you’ve ever been hit in the crotch by a puck.”
Jonah laughs. “Many times, yeah. But my gear protects the family jewels.”
“Have you ever been injured?”
“Yeah, lots of times. Goalies get lots of knee, hip and groin injuries that sometimes become long-term issues. I tore the meniscus in my knee my second pro season and had to get surgery.”
“So the gear doesn’t always stop injuries.”
“No, not at all. Guys get sliced by skate blades, that’s always a brutal one. I made a tourniquet out of a belt for a guy on the other team who had his leg sliced open during a game in college.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t believe all the injuries that have happened. I’ve heard of guys rupturing testicles.”
My mouth falls open in shock. “No way! How horrible. Do you worry about that stuff?”
“Nah. No point in worrying. I stretch a lot to prevent injuries and that’s all I can do.”
“So I noticed all the other guys take turns playing, but you were out there the whole game. Do you get tired?”
“Not really. I don’t have to skate up and down the ice like the rest of the team. It’s more mentally tiring for me. The physical work all happens outside the games for goalies.”
“So you’re the only goalie on the team?”
“We’ve got a backup, but I start the majority of the games. It depends on injuries or sometimes on our game schedule.”
“Is the backup as good as you?”
Jonah grins. “Hell no, he’s not. Our defensemen protect me and it’s rare for me to not play a whole game. There’s a saying that goalies are like testicles. You have two, but you’d rather not lose one.”
I laugh hard at that and say, “Lots of talk about testicles on this date.”
“Testicles don’t get enough love,” Jonah quips. “We should talk about them more often.”
“I think if testicles could speak for themselves, they’d want a different kind of love,” I crack.
“I suppose you’re right.”
My next words fly out of my mouth before I have time to think about them. “Have you been with anyone since losing your wife?” As soon as I realize what I’ve said, I cringe. “I’m so sorry, don’t answer that. I shouldn’t have asked.”
Jonah’s smile is easy. “It’s fine. I’ve been with a couple women since, but it was only one time with each of them.”
“Was that hard for you?”
He’s silent as he gathers his thoughts before replying. “Yeah, it was. The first time, anyway. At a certain point I think your physical urges just kind of take over, though. For men, anyway. It’s probably different with women.”
“I think so. Women are always thinking, you know?”
He laughs. “Always. Every single second.”
We walk in comfortable silence until we arrive at a little restaurant where Jonah opens the door and places his hand on my back as we walk inside.
Once we’re seated, Jonah scans the menu and says, “We’ve gotta get some chili cheese fries, they have amazing ones here. Obviously we’re gonna get some Chicago-style dogs, too. And don’t ask for ketchup, whatever you do.”
“How big are the hot dogs?”
“They’re decent sized, but if you’re hungry, I’d get at least two.”
I take his advice, and end up eating every last crumb of my two hot dogs and a lot of the fries, too. I think Jonah and I are both pretending we don’t see the guy snapping photos of us from a corner booth of the small restaurant.
“If you see photos anywhere of me inhaling those hot dogs, I don’t even want to know about it,” I say under my breath as we leave the restaurant.
“You looked like a Chicago girl having fun,” he says. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“It was fun,” I say. “Thanks for taking me.”
He takes my hand again as we walk and I ask, “Why are we getting along better now?”
“I figured you decided to lose the chip on your shoulder.”
I whip my head around and take in the serious expression on his face, and as I wind up with a fiery response, he bursts out laughing.
“I’m joking, Rey.” He squeezes my hand. “It takes time to adjust to someone new, you know? And I thought I’d never be on a date with any woman but my wife for the rest of my life. But we’re working through it.”