Page 70 of Rebound
Oh, and Lavinia? When I get back, I’m going to make sure mine’s the only name you remember.
Heat floods my body at his promise. He’ll be gone for a few more days still. I put my phone down and get out of bed. The sudden serotonin boost is exactly what I needed to get going this morning.
TWENTY-THREE
LAVINIA
I grip the steering wheel tightly as we get to my parents’ house and park the car. Jules reaches over and turns off the radio, shutting off Sabrina Carpenter mid-song.
“You don’t have to do this,” she says. “I still don’t entirely understand why you agreed to this scheme. It’s so not like you.”
I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear and run a hand over my French braid to smooth the curls.
“That’s exactly the point, Jules. It’s not like me. My content is built on hockey, on training, on being a positive influence to young girls and women and women athletes. I don’t have hockey anymore, as I always knew would happen one day. I don’t want this marriage to be known as a drunken mistake and for it to overtake my accomplishments when half the time news outlets forget to add that I’m an Olympic medalist.”
“And they’ll suddenly remember it as soon as they’re talking about you fucking up,” Jules adds, face twisted in disgust.
“Exactly! Everyone already thinks or knows Roman and I have been talking and flirting, so instead of being a drunken mistake, it will be a spontaneous, romantic decision.”
Jules sighs, staring out the windshield. The lights are on, and my parents are probably putting dinner on the table. Grandmaand Aunt Constance will be bickering, and Gran will be reading about advancements on String Theory.
“At least the sex will be good,” Jules teases.
“I never said I’m having sex with him,” I protest. Even to my own ears it sounds weak, and the look Jules gives me confirms she doesn’t believe me for a second.
“If you’re not screaming this man’s name from the rooftops, what’s the point of this marriage? What’s the point of any marriage?”
“Love and companionship?” I supply.
“We have love and companionship.”
It’s not like I haven’t thought about the sexual aspect of our relationship. I was thinking about it even before we got married. I know myself, and I will develop feelings. Big, fat feelings that will lead to big, fat tears when the season ends, and we go our separate ways.
Jules and I exit the car and make our way to the front door. Mom must have seen us because the door is unlocked and we step into the foyer, removing our shoes and placing them on the rack.
“How do you want to do this?” Jules whispers.
“Quick and fast.”
“The motto of every bad boyfriend who thinks he’s good at sex.”
I snort-laugh so hard I see my afterlife, which causes Jules to laugh and we’re standing in the foyer laughing loud enough to wake the dead. It’s the kind of laughter which multiplies because suddenly you’re laughing about the fact that you’re laughing, and eye contact makes it worse.
“What’s so funny?” Mom comes out of the living room, smiling at us and shaking her head.
“It’s nothing,” I choke out. “Jules said something funny.”
We make our way into the living room and as I guessed, Grandma and Aunt Constance are bickering quietly about something and Gran is sitting in a corner chair, reading a periodical and sipping on sherry.
“Where’s dad?” I ask.
“Right here.” Dad walks in from the den. I go in for a hug and he squeezes me tightly. I’ve always been a Daddy’s girl. Which isn’t to say my mother and I don’t get along because I know it can be misconstrued that way.
Dad and I have our careers in common and I followed the same path he did, so I’ve more in common with him. For a brief moment, I’d considered following my mother into academia, and quickly decided against it.
“What did you want to talk to us about?” Keeping his arm around my shoulder, he turns so we’re facing the rest of the family.
My eyes meet Jules as she’s situating herself between Grandma and Aunt Constance. Gran lowers her periodical and sets her sherry glass down on the table.
