Page 112 of Ice Ice Maybe
Nolan hesitated, then glanced at me. “Is he serious?”
“He never jokes about hockey—you should know that by now,” I said.
“But I haven’t played competitively since the accident,” Nolan said. “And I’m not even on the roster.”
“I beg to differ,” Dad said. “I added you to the roster the day before you came to my office and agreed to date Zena. It was my insurance, in case I needed leverage to convince you to go along with the plan. There’s already a jersey with your name on it. Lucky number thirteen.”
Nolan turned to me again, his eyes wide with disbelief.
I nodded, smiling encouragingly.
Dad leaned forward in his seat. “It’s time for you to feel the rush of NHL ice under your skates, son. Experience what it’s like to play in the best hockey league in the world, the anticipation buzzing in your veins, the adrenaline surge as you hop over theboards for your first shift in front of eighteen thousand diehard hockey fans.”
Nolan’s eyes glistened, and he shifted in his seat.
“Life is unpredictable, that’s for sure,” Dad continued. “And who knows why you were in that exact place and time to get caught up in a freak skiing accident with an out-of-control teenager on the slopes.” He shrugged. “But even if it’s just for a few shifts, this will be your chance to live the dream that was snatched away from you, and show the world that the heart of a hockey player still beats strong within you.”
Nolan swallowed hard as he struggled to find words.
“I don’t know what to say, sir. Thank you doesn’t seem enough,” he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper as he wiped his eyes. “That’s the best gift anyone could have given me. Except for the gift of your daughter, of course.”
“You’ve earned it,” Dad said, raising his glass. “Now, let’s celebrate.”
After we raised our glasses and toasted, Mom said, “We have a special dinner planned, plus a night at a fantastic hotel on the water in Santa Barbara. And we can even chat about the trip we’re planning after the last game of the season.”
“I can’t wait!” I said, then tilted my head to the side when Nolan seemed pensive. “Everything okay?”
“That depends …” He glanced at Dad, a hint of panic in his eyes. “Please tell me we have separate hotel rooms this time.”
Dad chuckled. “I made sure of it. We learned our lesson in Nashville.”
The tension melted from Nolan’s shoulders, then he raised his glass. “To separate rooms, and to Zena, the woman who makes every day an adventure.”
The four of us toasted and said cheers.
While Mom went to talk with the flight attendant in the back of the jet and Dad made a phone call, I used the opportunity to have a private moment with Nolan.
I leaned in close, my lips brushing his ear. “Can you handle sharing a hotel room with me again?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” he said.
I smirked. “I can handle it just fine. You’re wearing those infamous black boxer briefs, right?”
He grinned, a playful spark in his eyes. “Of course. What about you? Did you pack the silky red nightgown or theSimpson’sT-shirt?”
“Both,” I whispered back, enjoying the way his eyes widened.
“Both?” he echoed, clearly disappointed with my answer. “Which one are you planning to wear?”
I gave him a coy smile. “That depends on you and your behavior. Though I have to say, right now, I’m a little disappointed in you.”
“Why is that?” he asked, looking genuinely perplexed.
I shrugged playfully. “For a man who’s supposedly in love, you sure don’t express it very often.”
Nolan gasped in mock offense. “I said it first thing this morning when you walked through my door!”
“Eight hours ago? That’s almost yesterday,” I teased. “You need to seriously up your game if you expect to see that red nightgown again. The clock is ticking, mister.”
