Page 40 of The Slapshot and the Single Mom
When my phone alerts again, I let out an audible groan. Fucking people won’t just leave me alone.
But this time it’s Molly with the Emerald’s PR team.
Molly
Been seeing some interesting stories about you lately. It’s getting big enough that it seems like we might need to address the rumors. I have some time around 3 pm to talk on the phone. Call me then.
Sounds good
I could beg off and try to postpone that phone call, but I don’t have a reason for it, and Molly only wants what’s best for me. Well, she really wants what’s best for the team, but in this instance—as in most—those two goals are aligned. The fact that she didn’t call and leave an angry voicemail is a good sign, too. At least Molly’s not pissed off about me dating someone and not telling her about it.
“Hey!” Maggie says from next to me, and I turn, smiling at the sight of her and standing to greet her.
“Hey, Maggie.” I loosely wrap an arm around her and give her a kiss on the cheek. She returns the hug, but when she pulls away she looks flustered, her cheeks pinker than normal. I can’t help smiling in amusement. We kissed on the lips just a few days ago, and a kiss on the cheek has her all flustered?
That’s adorable.
Dumping her oversized tote bag down on the booth, she drops next to it with a sigh. “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this.”
I give her a curious look. “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment because you were so excited to see me or an indication of how bad your morning’s been.”
She laughs lightly. “How about both?” Leaning one elbow on the table, she drops her chin in her hand, looking at me with a mixture of irritation and amusement on her face. “It’s been pretty much a shitshow this morning. Brock’s had cancellations plus he still hasn’t hired an assistant, so he’s pissy and bitchy and there’s no one to run interference for me, and he wantsmeto call these places back and do damage control.” She shakes her head. “Which is so far outside of my job description it’s not even funny, and he’s trying to tell me that it relates to social media somehow. Arguing with him is stupid, but I’m not calling people back and begging them to come on the show. Especially when—” She cuts off, clamping her lips together and looking down, shaking her head again. “Anyway.” She meets my eyes again. “Enough about my asshole of a boss.” She grins, wide and genuinely happy. “This is the bright spot of my work day. I’m glad you suggested it.”
Passing her sandwich to her, I smile back. “My pleasure. I’m glad you could make it work, and I’m happy I can help make your day better just by existing.”
Chuckling, she takes the sandwich. “Seriously, Jack. This is amazing. Thank you so much for getting my sandwich already. I’m starving.”
Conversation turns to more innocuous topics—she tells me stories about playing basketball with her son and the fun planshe has with his grandparents this weekend—and I’m listening and telling stories about doing similar things when I was a kid, enjoying her telling me her own stories about herself as well as about her son, but the whole time I’m wondering if the reason guests are canceling is because of the hit piece he released about me. I hope so. For several reasons—specifically that it damages his reputation and also it means that people know that the piece about me isn’t based on truth.
The only concern I have is whether or not that might affect Maggie’s job, other than in the obvious way she’s already described. If enough people cancel, will he be able to afford to keep paying Maggie?
Part of me hopes he gets run out of business. But I also don’t want to wish for Maggie to lose her job. I want her to find a new job on her own because she’s tired of his bullshit, andthenhe should be forced to shut down.
Yes. That would be perfect.
Maggie’s chuckling, and I realize I missed the last thing she said because I was too much in my head—and thinking about her asshole boss, no less. I’m starting to understand what she means when she says that she doesn’t want to think about him when she’s not at work because he ruins enough of her life as it is. Not in those words, exactly, but that’s the idea I get from it at least.
“Anyway,” she says, waving a hand airily and taking a drink from her soda, and part of me wants to ask what I missed because I feel like an asshole for not listening, but I also don’t want to look like an asshole. She has enough assholes in her life. I don’t need to be another one.
She plops her chin in her hand again and studies me for a moment. “So,” she says, the word a punctuation mark closing off the last topic, whatever it was. “This weekend’s coming up fast.”
I dip my chin in a nod. “Day after tomorrow.” My pulse picks up at the prospect of spending time with her again—more time than this. No pressure to get back to work whisking her away long before I’m ready. She’s been checking her phone every so often—discreetly, but still. I know she has a time limit.
If we kissed last weekend, what could this weekend bring?
“Any thoughts on what we might do?”
Leaning forward, I prop both elbows on the table, steeple my hands in front of my mouth, and arch an eyebrow. “I thought our agreement was that you pick what you want to do.”
She meets my arched eyebrow with one of her own. “I thought we’d sort of progressed beyond the bounds of our original agreement.” She cocks her head to the side. “Or did I misinterpret the events and conversations of last weekend?”
Unable to suppress my grin, I shake my head. “No. I don’t think you misinterpreted anything. But I still want to take you to do whatever you want. I could see if there’s another baseball game in town.”
She shakes her head. “They’re on the road this weekend.”
“There’s a minor league team nearby, isn’t there? I’m sure we could find a baseball game of some level somewhere.”
Laughing, she shakes her head. “If us going to a professional game made the news, what do you think would happen if we went to like an adult rec league softball game.” She’s practically cackling at the thought, and I laugh along with her.
