Page 11 of Canadian Boyfriend

See? I huffed a sigh, even though what I wanted to do was scream, and turned to the woman approaching our table. Mid-forties, Minnesota-blond hair. She looked like a hockey mom.

“Any chance you’d sign this for me?”

Thisturned out to be her forearm.

“Sure,” I said flatly. She handed me a Sharpie, and I scrawled my name on her skin. It was the path of least resistance.

“I wasso sorryto hear about your wife.” The woman made what I called the fake-sorry face: head tilted, forehead wrinkled, but nothing in the eyes.

“Thanks,” I said, again opting for the answer that was going to get rid of her the fastest.

“Training camp’s about to start, though!” she trilled. “That’ll be a good distraction! And we’re so—”

“Excuse me,” Aurora cut in. “I’m sorry, but we’re kind of in the middle of something.” She made the fake-sorry face, too, a perfect imitation of the woman’s from a few seconds ago, except it was exaggerated, obviously yet subtly mocking. It startled a laugh out of me. Which was rude, but so was interrupting a man’s dinner and acting like you cared about his dead wife you’d never met.

“Yes, of course,” the woman said, but I didn’t miss her littlesniff. I watched her walk back to her table, and when she’d sat and resumed talking to her companion—probably saying something snarky about me—I returned my attention to my mission. To Aurora.

She rolled her eyes sympathetically, as if we were in league together. It was buoying. “I have to go back to work in a few weeks,” I said. “Well, I’m already back, but I have to start traveling for work.”

“Right. I understand you’re some kind of hockey star?” Her eyes danced.

“Not a star. Just a reliable stay-at-home defenseman.” I’d never been one of the giants of the league, even when I was younger and faster, and for that I was thankful. I would freely admit that I had a complicated relationship with the low-level fame that came with my job. Well, no, it was actually pretty simple: I hated it. Happily, I wasn’t recognized very much. Most of the media attention I’d had over the years had been about other people—my romance with Sarah, which because of her rich parents had captured the interest of the Chicago society pages, and my so-called bromance with Ivan. I tended to make the news only as half of a b/romance, and that was more than enough for me.

But I also probably owed my ability to keep a low profile to the fact that I was, let’s face it, a third-pairing player in the twilight of my career. These days, it was only serious fans, like the woman who’d approached our table, who knew me by sight. Or people in my hometown, where I was a bit of a “star,” as much as I loathed that word.

“‘A reliable stay-at-home defenseman.’” Aurora nodded sagely. “I have no idea what that means.”

With most people, even if they hadn’t initially known myname or face, the fact that I was in the NHL became… a thing. They were hockey fans, like the latest Ms. Fake Sorry. Or they weren’t, but they were attuned to the stuff that came with being a pro athlete—the fame, the money, whatever. So my first reaction when people went all starry-eyed over me was to bristle.

I just wanted to play hockey, and I hated all the other shit that came with it.

Aurora, though, seemed ignorant about both hockey and my role in it. “It means I hang back while the other defenseman roams around more. I’m the guy you send out when you’re trying to protect a lead.”

“It sounds like being in the corps de ballet.”

“Sorry?” I’d done a bit of poking around, and I knew that Aurora had attended the school at the Newberg Ballet, which I’d learned was a famous New York company. But I didn’t know ballet.

“There’s a hierarchy of roles in a ballet company. Principal dancers are the stars. At the bottom is the corps de ballet—supporting players.”

“Mm, I think maybe the hockey analogy is a grinder.” She looked at me blankly. This woman did not give a crap about hockey, and Ilovedit. If she said yes to my proposal, it would be because she cared about Olivia, not me and my “status.” “It’s not important. The point is I’m going back to work, which is a bit of a surprise.”

“How so?”

“I’m old and decrepit—” She started to object. “I’m old and decrepit for hockey; it’s a fact. Last season was the last on my previous contract. So when I took the last chunk of it off in unpaid leave, I assumed that would be it for me. It’s not normal to take that much time off, even for a death. But I was…”Not handling things well.But she didn’t need to know that. “Anyway, to my surprise, I’ve been offered another two-year contract.” I paused and considered whether I should explain why I was going back when the easiest, most obvious move would be to retire, but I remembered Dr. Mursal telling me I didn’t have to defend my choices.

“When the season starts, I’ll have to be on the road a lot. Olivia is going to stay with my friend Ivan’s wife, Lauren, while the team is traveling. Ivan’s on the team, and they live near us. Lauren will make sure Olivia gets to school and back when I’m not in town, and she can do Olivia’s Saturday ballet class run. The problem is your class on Tuesdays. Lauren has a yoga class at the same time. She’s offering to quit it, but I’m trying to find another solution. Olivia loves your class, and I’ve promised her she won’t have to give it up.” Aurora made an aw-shucks face. I probably should have led with how much of a fan Olivia was.

I was starting to sweat. Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t I find my stride like I could on the ice? A game could throw anything at me, impossible odds and power plays, and I was cool, but I couldn’t ask for a favor? “Since that four o’clock class is the last one you teach on Tuesdays, I’m wondering how you would feel about driving Olivia home afterward—well, driving her home and hanging out with her until Lauren can pick her up after yoga. I’d been planning to get you a car if you agreed.”

There. It was out.

“You can’t just give a car to a person you barely know.”

“I wouldn’t be. It’d be a long-term loan.”

“You can’t long-term lend a car to a person you barely know,” she parried without missing a beat.

I smiled. In another context, in anotherlife, I would have enjoyed bantering with her. “I can, though.”

---