Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
That’d be an adventure, for sure.
But what would happen in the morning? We’re three lost souls, wandering around this desolate, post-relationship landscape, trying to figure out what’s next.
Thirty-six hours after a failed I do is not the time for me to say make it a double.
I swallow, trying desperately to reroute to Platonic-ville. I fiddle with my napkin and fold the linen neatly on the table. “I’d heard great things about The Green Pantry when I was planning. It’s a woman-owned business, and I try to support ladies when I can…”
I’m not rambling at all.
“Like Beverly’s diner,” Ledger points out.
I smile. “Yes.”
“That’s why you should root for the Golden State Foxes over the Sea Dogs. We’re a woman-owned team,” Dev says, and I picture Jessie Rose, the badass billionaire boss lady behind his team. Ivy’s not only the mascot for the team, but she also does some work for Jessie as a personal stylist and has said how much she looks up to the tough and brilliant team owner.
Ledger stretches his arms across the back of the chair. “But when you’re thinking about who to root for, don’t forget I’ve won two cups.”
The smug smile says try to best me.
Dev glowers a moment, then he straightens his shoulders, game face on. “And I’ll fucking play till I claim one too.”
More solemnly than I expect, Ledger offers a fist for knocking. “You will, bro. You will.”
“I will,” Dev seconds, and his faith in himself is admirable too. I imagine you need that steely faith to strap on skates for eighty-two games a year, to train every day, to keep your body in tip-top shape.
The moment remains solemn until Ledger yawns. An unstoppable yawn that has me laughing, and Dev rolling his eyes. “C’mon, old man. Let’s get you to bed.”
“Fuck you. Not old,” Ledger grumbles.
“But it is late,” I add gently. “So let’s go.”
Ledger doesn’t protest as we leave. We walk back along Main Street. I take a certain amount of personal pleasure in the fact that neither man glances twice at one of the pie shops Aiden wanted to check out for competitive intel.
At the corner, Dev’s attention snaps to the local convenience store we passed on the way here, the one with a wooden sign on its door advertising McDoodle Goods and Stuff. He stops right in front of a postcard rack by the door, like he’s helpless to the lure of the brightly colored pieces of cardboard. “Guys, go ahead. I’ll catch up,” he says, then heads inside the shop. As we keep walking, I reach into my pocket for my lip gloss, my room key slipping out too, then falling to the ground. “Shoot.”
I bend to grab it from the sidewalk, but Ledger’s faster, kneeling to grab it and handing it to me in no time.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Welcome,” he says, but he winces as he rises.
After I slick on some gloss, I swear I see him favoring one leg over the other for a few steps. I furrow my brow. “Is your knee injury acting up?”
“It’s nothing,” he says, shutting that down.
But is it? I rack my brain, trying to replay his recent career history. He didn’t have an injury that I’m aware of. I’m pretty sure he played regularly on the Sea Dogs last season, but a couple years ago he had a slight tear that took him out for a few weeks. Garrett mentioned it when he took me to a game that Ledger didn’t play in.
Maybe the knee still barks now and then? I’m about to suggest he use the hot tub when he snaps his gaze to me, saying quickly, in a surprisingly cheery tone, “You said on the way to the ferry that you want to hike, visit a ghost town, go grape stomping. You up for hiking tomorrow? That’d be a fun start.”
“Sure,” I say, going with his one-eighty.
“Let’s do it,” he says, upbeat once more.
“Okay. Sounds fun.” It also sounds decidedly friendly, and I suppose that’s for the best. What’s sexy about a hike, after all? It’ll be the perfect platonic honeymoon activity.
He spends the rest of the walk to the hotel chatting about hiking trails.
One thing is clear—this is the end of the knee conversation.
20
THE BANG PREDICTION
Aubrey
We’re back in the suite a little after eleven. The stars wink in the night sky, the quiet of the Pacific Northwest surrounding us. One by one, we take turns getting ready for bed.
The men insist on ladies first, so once I brush my teeth and slip into my sleep shirt and shorts, I return to the room while Ledger roots around in his suitcase and Dev heads to the bathroom.
I slide into bed. Adjust myself under the crisp covers. Paddle my feet to loosen the tight sheets some more. Arrange the pillows. Tug up the duvet.