Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“Where the fuck is Aly? She just cancelled dinner on us.”
I shrug my shoulders, putting down the frame. “No clue. She forgot her jacket, so I brought it back,” I say, not adding in that it was from this morning as I walk past him and out. I take my phone and see that Shannon’s text is still there along with Allison’s.
I text Allison first.
Your brother is looking for you.
I press send, waiting. And then I text Shannon.
Sorry, something came up. Maybe another time.
Then I toss my phone on the seat and make my way home. Allison never texts me back and the next day she is nowhere to be found. The light in her office stays off the whole day. I know that she has to turn up sometime. The next day is game day, so I know I’m going to see her, but little do I know that it’s for a two-second period, and as soon as the game is over, she’s gone. I pass by her house on the way home. It’s out of my way, but my car just goes there. The house is pitch-black.
I go to the rink early on Saturday, knowing for sure she is going to be there and I’m about to enter her office when I hear her.
“Come on, Matthew, you need to get me tickets.”
“I don’t have any tickets. You have just as much pull as I do. Why don’t you just call the PR that is taking care of the tour?”
“I can’t call Ed Sheeran and say, hey, can I have tickets.”
I walk away, not sure I want to go in there when Matthew is there, but I know by the end of the night we will be having a conversation.
Chapter Thirteen
Allison
This is my girlfriend Shannon.
My eyes blink open, his voice still in my mind like the dream. I was so stupid to think he wasn’t taken. So, so stupid. I turn on my side, thinking about the moment I saw the text and his hand shot out grabbing it. All I could do was blink. My mouth had gone dry, so dry, and my nose started to burn. I knew that if I didn’t leave fast it would not be good for anyone.
Okay, fine, I have a crush on Max Horton. Who the fuck doesn’t? Okay, I can name a couple of people who don’t, but once you get past the big chip on his shoulder, you have someone who is genuine, kind, funny-ish, and fucking hot.
I’ve avoided going to the arena if I don’t have to be there. But on game day, I have no choice, so I show up, do my job, stay out of the way, and take off as soon as I can. But Saturday games are impossible, especially tonight, which we deemed family night. I roll over as I hear my phone ring and see it’s Vivienne.
“Putin.” Slut, she says in French and I laugh.
“Yes, my leader.”
And she laughs. “You need to get us tickets to Ed Sheeran. He is coming next month and tickets are sold out.”
“How the hell am I supposed to get tickets?”
“Don’t you work for the company?”
“Yes, but I don’t do the entertainment side of it. I can ask, though.”
“Quel est le problème?” What’s the matter, she asks right away.
“Nothing, why?”
“You sound different, sad.” She picks up right away. “Do we need to bury a body?”
I laugh at her. She would be the first one I would actually call if I had to bury a body. “No. It’s really nothing. I’m just tired.” I turn in bed and then get up, walking downstairs. “I need to get my schedule for next month done.”
“D’accord.” Okay, she says. “Je te verrai ce soir.” I’ll see you tonight, she says and waits for me to say okay before disconnecting.
I sit at the island, picking at two pieces of toast, and drinking my coffee. I check and see that Charles confirmed for Monday morning. I forward it to Max and close it down. My phone rings and I breathe out when I see it’s Karrie.
“What’s the matter?” she says as soon as I answer.
“Jesus.” I laugh. “Nothing, I’m just tired.”
“I don’t believe you. You’re the fucking energizer bunny.”
I blow out a breath and finally cave. “I think Max is dating someone.”
She laughs out. “As if it’s just one person. He was the biggest whore of life a couple of years ago. We had bets going to see how long it would take for his dick to fall off.”
“Who won?” I ask and close my eyes, trying to make the nausea go away.
“No one.”
“Anyway, it’s stupid. I’m a kid and he’s, well, he’s Max.”
“Honey,” she says, whispering, “you aren’t a kid. You’re a woman who likes a man.”
“If you do the whole Notting Hill scene I’m hanging up.”