Page 91 of Trouble in Love
Our Minnesota game ended with another W and with me racking up the most minutes I’d spent on the ice since my return.
Every single part of me was in P.A.I.N.
My feet, especially my still-healing Achilles, my arms, my ass, my hair, my teeth—all of it—hurt like hell. Lactic acid burned through my muscles as I glided around for one last lap of the ice, waving goodbye and thanks to local fans and those who traveled to see us play.
Their jubilation over another win took the edge off, but only the very edge of the edge.
“D’Cruz. Hey, Luca.” I turned to see Will Carter, our rookie skating towards me with his little brother holding his hand and skating along beside him. “Coach Brown let me bring Donny out onto the ice, but he’s not interested in his boring brother. He only wants you.”
“Little dude,” I laughed. “You have impeccable taste, my man.”
“Yeah, I don’t think he knows what that means.” Unlike me, Carter had minimal ice time and was fresh as a daisy. “He wanted to know if he could get a photo?”
“Sure thing.” Bending down and hoisting Donny up and onto my shoulders with his legs dangling either side of my neck really, really hurt. This was made obvious by all the grunting.
“Don’t pull anything, old man,” quipped Carter as he pulled out his phone and began to snap away.
“I think I liked you better when you didn’t speak.”
“Me too,” Donny chuckled. It would have been cute had it not made him jiggle, which in turn made the blades of his little skates jab into my pecs.
“I knew I liked you when I saw you, kid.”
With Donny riding high, I took another lap on the ice. He waved and cheered to his adoring fans and then skated back over to the bench so his brother could remove him from my weary body. “Thank you, Mr. Luca.” He smiled as he wrapped himself around Carter.
“Anytime, little man.” Desperate for a rub down and shower, I began to move but stopped when Carter grabbed the hem of my shirt.
“Luca, before you go, I want you to meet another fan.” He swallowed heavily, took a deep breath, and pulled a young guy who had been hovering behind him before me. This is Jasper. My …”Say it, kid. “My boyfriend.” Jasper, who looked more surprised than anyone, put out his hand and gave a tentative smile.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jasper. Carter tells me you’re a B’s man. You got a good team this year. Not as good as us, of course.” I pointed to the number 24 on his sleeve. “Do they know you’re wearing this jersey?”
“No, they don’t and hopefully they never will.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” I said, leaning in and slapping the side of his impressive bicep before turning back to my teammate. “You did good, kid. Your man’s a tank. Now, let’s get the hell out of here so you two can enjoy that post-game ... Ahhh … special time we talked about.”
Blushing in unison, Carter and I waved to Donny and Jasper then headed down the corridor to the showers. My mind instantly started to count down the hours till I could enjoy my own special time with Polly.
Polly
During Luca’s impromptu roadside proposal, several convincing arguments were used to sway me to marry him, and it seemed he was correct with most of them.
As he indicated, once word had spread that I was not a two-headed Australian hussy, was not pregnant, and that Luca and I had settled down in a normal home, not some kind of swinging-from-the-chandeliers Bi-sex den, the media speculation all but died. He was back on the ice, and his once-tarnished golden boy reputation was back to beaming.
Interest remained, of course. Luca was a big-time hockey star, but thankfully, the paparazzi who hounded us wherever we went for my first weeks in the States began to see us as just another boring married couple, not two walking dollar signs.
Perhaps that transition was aided by Luca’s absence. He’d been away more than he’d been home, playing in Canada, California, and Seattle in as many weeks, his ice time increasing with each game. And this week, just two before Christmas, while he was off chasing pucks and blocking shots in Minnesota, I washome, working on the house, toilet training Toto, and facilitating my cooking classes with hearing-impaired tenth graders at a local school.
Another point he’d been bang on the money with. My mum. Since that first olive branch call in Tilly’s car, we’d been in touch several times, and not a peep had been peeped about kids, disappointment, reputations, or God’s plans for my immortal soul.
Would her nonjudgemental support continue? I doubted it, but it was a start.
So many aspects of my life changed dramatically in such a short time, I could hardly recognize it as my own.
I had real-life human friends.
Meaningful work I loved.
I lived in a mansion on the beach with a picket fence and a garden, and a husband I fucked on every surface possible within that house … and outside of that house, and on FaceTime when he was away.
