Page 28 of Playing for Keeps

Tugging on Emerson’s hand, I prepare to follow the staffer alongside her, but the guy appears uncomfortable. He winces. “Actually … um…”

Emerson smiles and pats my arm. “Gunny, honey, they only want you.” I grimace, and she pats harder. “I will be just fine out here. Go meet your fans.”

And then I’m swept away to some patient rooms, where a few adorable kids tell me about their broken bones and torn ligaments while I sign hockey sticks and jerseys, smiling for the camera. This stuff is easy. I don’t even have to fake any facial expressions with kids. They make the best fans. It’s only when they get older and try to invade my privacy that I get twitchy around them.

“What’s up, little dude?” I approach a hospital bed where a kid with both legs in casts. He looks tired.

“Hi,” he says, in a flat voice.

“What’s up? You don’t like hockey?” I squat down so we’re eye level.

He shrugs. “Not like I can play anytime soon.”

I whistle and gesture to his legs. “Yeah, that looks pretty uncomfortable. But you’ll snap back for next season, right?”

He turns away and stares out his window. “If I can make the team next season.”

“Hey,” I lean in closer to whisper. “I’ve been sidelined for a full season before. In high school. Groin pull.”

He turns back, his eyes wide. “Yeah?”

I nod. “Seriously. I promise they’ll remember you next year.” The kid brightens after that, and I sign a jersey for him, taking a selfie with him before I’m dragged back to the gala. If this is what Brian wants me to do to establish myself as a household name, I’m golden. I love this shit.

The gala room is much fuller now, filled with people in their finest black and whites sipping wine. My gaze locks onto Emerson as she chats with the team owner, and I’m drawn to her like she’s pulling me across fresh ice. She’s so at home right now, talking and gesturing, a smile brightening her face. Except it’s not the same smile I’m used to.

I realize she’s performing right now. My heart sinks at the thought that I’ve placed her in a position her father often does, to schmooze with wealthy people for an agenda. Sure, it’s a hospital fundraiser and an objectively good agenda. But I don’t like knowing that I’m just another man in her life asking her to smile and look pretty for the rich folks.

I’m about to reach for her, kiss her on the cheek, when the director of the hospital shouts, “Ah! Gunnar Stag! The man of the hour.”

I turn to face him, smiling with my own performance expression. Brian prepped me for this. “Flaherty. Great event. Thank you for letting me be a part of it.” We shake hands very enthusiastically. “Have you met my wife, Emerson?”

Flaherty’s expression must be genuine as he smiles at her. “I had the pleasure just moments ago. My heartfelt congratulations. I understand the happy event occurred right after our agreement! I don’t mind if I do assume that our partnership inspired your nuptials.”

Emerson’s laughter is a tinkle, like little bells in the stuffy space. “That must have been it. Gunnar is genuinely excited about interacting with all the children.”

“I’m sure he is, darling. Have you met Bradford Rollings from the Kent Endowments?”

I lose sight of the puck with all the names tossed at me. As the night goes on, I shake hands with various fancy people while keeping one arm around Emerson’s shoulders, impressed at the way she keeps the conversation light and focuses away fromherself. She remembers everyone’s names and facts about them. I feel like a stranger in a strange land, but I smile and thank them for their support whenever Emerson squeezes my hand.

I’m surprised to realize that a few hours have passed, and after several speeches and rounds of applause, we’re all dismissed into the night. One thing is clear to me: I owe my wife big time for her help this evening, and even more because giving me this support put her in an uncomfortable position.

CHAPTER 19

EMERSON

We passthrough the hospital’s sliding doors into the crisp autumn night, deciding to walk home. Gunnar has taken off his tux jacket, loosened his bowtie, and rolled up the cuffs of his dress shirt, looking sinfully good with the black coat slung over one shoulder. He whistles as he places a hand on my lower back and steers me down the hill toward Butler Street.

I squeeze his arm. “That was kind of fun. Did you get to meet any of the kids?”

He nods and makes a contented sound. “The kids are great. I had no idea what to do with myself for the rest of it.” He gives my bottom a squeeze and then doesn’t move his hand away. “I was really glad you were there to talk me through it all.”

Warmth spreads in my chest at his remark. “Well, you know, I can rub elbows with the best of ‘em.”

Gunnar makes a low sound and then pauses at the corner. “I feel like I’ve put you in an awkward position, asking you to do that when you came here to get away from that kind of thing.”

My mouth drops because he’s right. And yet tonight felt different. I never once felt pressured to say anything specific or promise anything beyond a whirlwind romance with the man ofthe hour. “Gunnar, I…I had fun tonight. I enjoyed talking you up.”

“Yeah?” His crooked smile is adorable.

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