Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
He draws a deep, fortifying breath, then nods a few times. “All right. I’m going in.”
After we order, we grab a table in the corner. The place is pretty empty. Aubrey glances around, then something flashes in her eyes. A decision, maybe? Like something’s been on her mind, but she wants it off her heart too?
“The bird on my ankle?”
“Yes?” I ask.
“I said I got it for my dad. And that’s true. I did. Just to remember him by. But also to remember things he said. His words about being happy and doing things you love. So it was for him, but it was also for me to remember those words. To do those things. Except, I think I messed it all up,” she says, her tone stretched thin.
“What do you mean?” I ask, concerned.
“I told you I only wanted to marry Aiden because my dad thought he was the right guy for me,” she blurts out and she said that at dinner the other night, but the emotions in her eyes tells me there’s more to the story. “My mom was so sure of it too. I thought I was making them happy. I always wanted them to be happy when I was younger,” she says, barreling on. I was not expecting this new confessional, but judging from the speed and her vulnerability she needs to share this.
“But when I was in junior high,” she continues, “they went through a rough patch, and I was pretty much the only kid at home. I tried really hard to make them happy. To entertain them. To tell them stories. To cover up the silence. The tension. The way everything felt so strained. Later, after they stayed together, working through whatever it was, I just became that person. Always wanting everyone to have a good time. Making sure everyone has everything they need.”
I get why she’s telling us this. “Are you saying that’s why you took us around today?” I ask, but I’m not mad if that’s the reason. I am, however, intensely curious.
“Because you don’t have to make us happy. I can only speak for me, but I already am,” Dev says.
Her smile is soft, relaxed as she shakes her head. “I don’t feel that way with you guys at all. That’s what I like about…this thing. I did feel that way about my family. I just wanted you to know the deeper reason for why I almost got married. I wanted to share it since you’ve been so good to me. I’m glad Aiden showed his true colors, I’m glad you guys were there for me at the church, and I’m glad I’m here now with both of you,” she says, then breathes a sigh of…not exactly pure relief. More like delighted relief.
“Me too,” Dev says, meeting her gaze with utter sincerity and something else—a look in his eyes I haven’t seen before. One that’s not hard to read at all. A look that says he’s falling for her. “Really glad.”
It feels too easy to say the same thing. Instead, I say, “Then you’re going to sit back and enjoy the hell out of it as we make you happy the next few days.”
“Fine. If you insist, then I’m all in.” Her smile turns a little naughty. “And there are some things I want to try…”
She shares a few of those things, and it’s not my heart that melts this time. It’s my brain.
“Yes. We’re up for that,” I say immediately, certain I can speak for Dev in this regard.
And I need to since he’s speechless.
The naughty conversation ends when a server brings our food. After we thank him and he leaves, I blurt out impulsively, “This will be my last season.”
I didn’t plan on saying that. Hell, I wasn’t even sure this was going to be my last season. Until now. But now feels like the right moment to declare myself, alongside all these other confessions. Just voicing what’s been swirling inside me lessens some of the tension, some of the uncertainty.
I feel lighter. More free.
Aubrey’s eyes are warm as she reaches for my hand across the table and squeezes it. “Good for you.”
“Why is it good?”
“Because you sound ready. Ready is good.”
“Should I have a breakup party?”
She smiles, answering sincerely as she says, “Maybe you should.”
Dev offers me a fist for knocking. “Man, you’ve had a great career.”
I don’t knock back. Instead I push my hands against the table, downplaying it. “Yeah, yeah.”
I feel better, but not completely. Something is still nagging at me. The inevitable what happens next. There are too many choices for life after hockey and that pressure to work hard and be the best—to be chasing the next big thing—has been drilled into me since I was a kid.
But now is not the time to deal with what’s next. There will be plenty of time for that when this trip ends.