Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
I nodded, letting him know I understood, but continued to hold my breath.
“I’m too focused on my career to be in a relationship,” he explained. “If you asked my ex, she’d give you a long list of my flaws as a boyfriend. And I probably should have scrubbed her from my posts, but honestly, I just don’t care that much. Seems like a waste of time.”
At my limit, I exhaled slowly and nodded. “I get it. It’s not like it erases the past.”
“Exactly. Anyway, I do not have a girlfriend, but if you’d rather not hang out alone with me, it’s totally fine. I just like talking to you.”
My decision was made in a fraction of a second. “Let’s go out on the balcony,” I said. “Should I grab drinks again so you’re not attacked at the bar?”
“I’ll get them this time. If anyone tries to stop me, I’ll fight them.”
I laughed. “Okay. I’m going to use the bathroom real quick. Meet you out there in a few minutes?”
“Sounds good.”
Inside the ladies’ room, I fluffed my hair, checked my teeth, and swiped my perfume rollerball across my collarbones. I thought about reapplying my lip gloss, but just in case this night turned crazy and Joe Lupo wanted to kiss me, I left my lips bare.
Suddenly, Ari swept in. “What is happening? I saw you and Joe Lupo both come out here, and only he came back in!”
“He doesn’t have a girlfriend—those posts were old—and we’re going to have a drink on the balcony.” I tucked my perfume back into my clutch. “By the way, your cousin Eric is dating someone.”
“Oops—sorry.” She looked sheepish. “Didn’t realize.”
“It’s fine. We didn’t really have chemistry anyway.” I turned to face her. “How do I look?”
She fussed with a strand of hair near my face. “Perfect.”
“Thank you. Okay, I might be gone for a little bit, but text me if you get tired and want to leave. I’ll come find you.”
“Okay.” She grinned. “Have fun.”
We walked back into the ballroom together, and I made my way toward the doors that led to the balcony and pushed one open. Outside, it was dark and humid, the air heavy with mist. No moon or stars shone through the clouds, but two strands of party lights crisscrossed the air above our heads, their little round bulbs hazy in the fog.
Joe was already standing by the railing, holding a glass of whiskey on the rocks in one hand and a champagne flute in the other. After handing it to me, he pulled a napkin-wrapped slice of lemon from his pocket. “I brought you a present. Just in case you get the hiccups again.”
I laughed. “Thank you. So do you have all summer off from hockey?”
“Yes and no. We do take some recovery time—and I had to get some PT for a shoulder injury—but we have to keep training to stay in good physical condition.”
“Is it harder as you get older?” Realizing what I’d just asked, I shook my head. “Not that you’re old,” I said quickly. “You’re not. I mean, I don’t know how old you are, but you’re not old.”
He laughed. “It’s okay. I’m thirty-two, which is kind of old for professional hockey.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Most careers only last about five seasons. Some are done in one.”
“Wow.” I sipped my champagne. “So you must be really good.”
“I’m pretty good,” he said, his grin sheepish and cocky at the same time.
“So how much longer will you play?”
“Hard to say. As long as my body holds up, I guess.”
“And then what?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never really thought about it.” He shrugged. “Hockey is really all I know. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do.”
“Do you want to stay in Chicago?”
“I’ll go wherever the game takes me.” He sipped his drink. “So tell me more about what you do. I don’t know anything about museums except that my parents dragged us around to a bunch of them when we took a vacation to Italy.”
“You didn’t enjoy them?”
“Not really. I confess, I was more interested in Italian girls than Italian art.” He swirled the whiskey in his glass. “In my defense, I was only sixteen at the time.”
“So now that you’re older, you’re into Italian art?” I teased.
“Definitely. Leonardo, Michelangelo, Donatello, Raphael—all the Ninja Turtles.” He grinned. “But those are the only ones I know.”
I laughed. “It’s okay. I definitely couldn’t name more than four hockey players. Actually I might be able to name only one.”
“Which one?”
“Gordie Howe.”
“Wow. You went for an oldie. But a goodie,” he added. “Especially if you’re a Detroit fan.”
“My dad has an autographed card. My brothers are always arguing about who should inherit it.”
He laughed. “Maybe it should go to you. Aren’t you the one who loves memorabilia?”
It made me smile to hear the artifacts I worked with described as memorabilia. “Yes.”