Page 63 of Revenge Puck

Preston

Ican't believe that son of a bitch is still texting her, still begging for another chance. And since I'm so far away now, I can't help but wonder if Elle might give in to the asshole.

At least I get a response from Elle bright and early the next morning. She's definitely coming to D.C., and she wants to know when to arrive and for how long.

I jokingly text back to ask if now was too soon.

Her response,I should work for most of the day tomorrow, catch an afternoon flight, and be there for the puck drop.

Sounds good, I tell her.I can buy your plane ticket.

Elle:No, thank you. The tickets for tomorrow and Friday's game are more than enough.

Preston:So, you are staying through Friday?

Elle:How long did you want me to stay?

Sunday, I instantly respond.

Elle:Since I don’t have any appointments this Saturday and the salon is closed on Sundays, I guess I could make that work.

Preston:Great. Wednesday through Sunday. We'll spend the weekend celebrating the Warhawks winning the championship.

Elle:Ha! You wish!

As soon as I find out Elle is coming, I start speed cleaning the entire house from top to bottom. Maya and I keep it pretty tidy and clean, as much as we can with a four-year-old running around with about a million toys. Still, the whole place could use a late spring cleaning.

“You're dusting the freaking ceiling?” Maya asks from the entryway when she returns home from taking Finley to preschool.

“Yep,” I reply while running the duster head over the ceiling fan. “Going to clean the whole house today.”

“Oh really? Does this mean Elle is coming?”

“Yep.”

“Yay! I can't wait to meet her!”

Lowering the duster, I point it at her. “Be nice to her during the games. And please don't give her the whole history.”

“Why not?”

“Because...” I trail off, seeing a cobweb in a corner that needs to be knocked down.

“Do you trust her, Pres?”

“Yes.”

“Then why not tell her the truth?”

Shrugging, I mutter, “I don't know.”

“You're a stubborn jackass, that’s why,” she huffs. When I ignore her and start wiping down the baseboards, she says, “So, she's coming tomorrow and staying here with us?”

Shit.“I assumed she would stay here. I mean, if that's okay with you?” I finally face my sister again. “I should've asked you first.”

“It's your house, Pres. You can have guests whenever you want.”

“It's our house,” I correct her. “And that includes Finley. If you think it would be weird for him if Elle stays over, then I'll book a hotel room.”

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