Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I lean back against the counter, the coffee in both hands as I argue with myself over the fact I want to go visit Stone for the weekend. “Or you show up to get him out of your system and worst case is you stay the weekend, having amazing sex and a tremendous number of orgasms.” I shake my head. “It’s a bad, bad idea,” I finally say and walk into my bedroom to get ready for work.
The whole time the lingering thought about going to surprise him is in the back of my mind. Even when I get to the office and slide on my shoes, I’m talking myself out of it. When I sit down and turn on my computer to search flights to Nashville, I tell myself it’s a bad fucking idea. I buy the ticket, just in case I want to use it. Worst case, I can cancel, and it’s no big deal. I also go online and look for hockey tickets, but I’m so out of my league it’s not even funny. So I pick up the phone and dial the one person I know who I can ask. It’s also the one person I don’t want to tell, but I have no choice. “Well, well, well,” Gabriella answers right away. “Look who it is.”
I laugh, turning in my chair and looking out my window at the skyline. “It’s your favorite sister-in-law,” I tell her, and she snorts.
“Considering you are my only one, I agree,” she retorts. “What’s going on? It feels like I haven’t spoken to you in forever.”
“Not much, busy preparing for a case, same old same old…” I trail off. “I have to ask you something but I need you to promise me you won’t tell anyone, and then you won’t judge me.”
“Uh-oh,” she mumbles, “am I going to need bail money?”
“No, nothing like that.” I smile, happy I know she would have my back. “Hypothetically—” I start.
“I love hypothetical questions.” Her voice pitches high. “They are always my favorite.”
“Good to know.” I take a second to think how to word this question, but there really is no way to sugarcoat any of this. “Let’s say I would want to go to Nashville and watch a hockey game. What tickets should I get?”
“Watch a hockey game,” she repeats, “in Nashville.”
“Correct.” I ignore the thumping of my heart and the way my palms are getting even more sweaty than humanly possible.
“Why would you want to do that, Ryleigh?” Her voice is questioning.
“Hypothetically, of course,” I start, “I would be going to visit a friend.”
“A friend,” she huffs. “Does this friend have a name?”
“Okay, knock it off,” I finally snap. “You know damn well he has a name.”
“Oh, I know he has a name, but you were doing all your lawyer cross-examining questions, and I decided to play along.” I roll my eyes. “Now, I have to ask, are you insane?” Her voice pitches high. “You have to be insane because, well, I don’t really know why, I just know this is a very bad idea.”
“Is it really? He was here last weekend, and we enjoyed spending time together.”
“He was there last weekend?” she repeats, her voice in disbelief. “And you enjoyed spending time together?”
I exhale. “What tickets do I get if I wanted to surprise him?”
“Surprise him,” she groans. “Listen, as someone who went to surprise a man, that did not work out for anyone.” My stomach feels like it’s going to vomit all over the floor. “Why don’t you give him a heads-up?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I haven’t decided whether I’m going.” Oh, you’re going, my head screams.
“Ugh, fine,” she finally concedes. “I think I can get you tickets.”
“No!” I shout at her. “You’ll have to call your family, and this is a do-not-get-family-involved situation, so I just need you to tell me where I should sit.”
“You can sit anywhere, really. What you want to do is show up before the game and go down to the glass so he can see that you are there,” she instructs me, “but don’t make a sign.”
“Don’t make a sign?” I question the statement. “What the hell does that mean?”
“People write signs and stand around the glass like ‘You’re My Favorite Player’ or ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors for a Stick.’” I’m amazed at this.
“I could make a sign that says, ‘You Banged Me so Good I Came Back for More.’” I laugh while Gabriella groans.
“I don’t tell you how good your brother is in bed.” I close my eyes and fake vomit. “So it’s a two-way street.” I agree. “So no sign.”
“That I can do,” I assure her. “So like what time should I get there?”
“You should get there as soon as the doors open so you can get a good place at the glass. I would stand next to the kids since the players usually go where the kids are,” she informs me. “Maybe I’ll come and meet you for the game.”