Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
A knot of emotion launches into my throat. I’ve spent my entire life wishing my parents attended one of my games, but gave up on that dream many, many years ago. Seeing my father here –wearing my fucking jersey– is a lot to wrap my head around at once. We’ve spoken and seen each other more the last few months than we have since I was ten, and it’s all Josslyn’s doing.
She invited him over for Christmas Eve, and then New Year’s Eve, and sent a cake to his office on his birthday from the two of us—unbeknownst to me, of course. In the grand scheme of things, they’re small gestures, but they all things that initiated phone calls, texts, and most recently, getting together for golf.
Being around him made me realize my father and I didn’t know each other at all, and even though I’ve had reason to dislike him, I now understand some of his actions. I still don’t necessarily agree with them, but I understand. He grew up under his father’s thumb, doing everything asked of him to ensure he was in his favor.
He gave up his dreams of playing professional golf, broke up with the woman he was in love with, married my mother, and continued to make decisions based on expectations rather than personal fulfillment. He hasn’t said it, but I know part of him is proud of me for defying him at every turn and going after what I want.
My mouth is still hanging open when I see Josslyn’s hand on the plexiglass. Finally, I tear my eyes away from my dad’s and look at her. The amount of love in her eyes nearly brings me to my knees.
“I hope you don’t mind the crowd I brought,” she says loudly, eyes twinkling. “None of them have been to a hockey game before, which is just preposterous, don’t you think?”
I feel my lip twitch. “I didn’t know you were such a fan.”
“I prefer basketball,” she responds with a shrug. “But hockey’s pretty cool.”
“She bought us all jerseys,” Tiago shouts beside her.
I hadn’t even noticed him. I realize he’s wearing Dame’s jersey before I glance at the rest of them. They’re all wearing jerseys. A lot are mine, some are Dame’s, and the rest are other players on the team.
“I opted for the one with my last name on it. I had to convince her to match me until it becomes her last name as well,” my dad says, making Josslyn laugh.
My heart feels like it might burst in my chest.
“That, and I’m kind of in love with number seventeen,” she says, grinning.
It’s something I’ll never tire of hearing her say, especially when she announces it to the world like this.
“Go kick some ass,” Dad says, slapping the plexi.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “I’ll see you after the game.” I lock eyes with Josslyn. “I love you.”
She responds by making a heart with her hands and blows me a kiss. I’m still in a trance as I skate away, still processing that my father is actually at my game. I have no doubt that if things were different, my mother would be here as well. My father won’t outright say it, the general consensus is that he forced my mother to go on a long journey of self-discovery. When she called me last month, I finally caved and answered the phone.
I’d been ready for confrontation, but I got none. Instead, she apologized and asked how things were going—something my mother never cared about in the past. I don’t think I’ll ever truly forgive her for her role in what happened with my sister, but it doesn’t matter. I’m content with how things are.
“Why does everyone think we’re married?” Josslyn asks, glancing at me when we get to our floor. “By the time the third security guard congratulated me, I had to ask what it was about. Imagine my surprise—and your father’s—when they informed me I’d gotten married.”
I fight a smile as I open the door and let her walk inside. My eyes trail down her back and land on her perfect, round ass. I pick up the pace and grab one ass cheek before wrapping my arms around her and kissing her neck.
“That’s because I call you my wife when I talk about you.”
She laughs. “But I’m not your wife.”
“Yet.”
“Yet,” she agrees, and my hands, which were making their way down her body, freeze.
Heart pounding, I set them on her shoulders and turn her around. The conversation I had with her mom at the hospital haunts me, especially since the few times I’ve brought up marriage, Joss hasn’t jump out of her seat with excitement. She’s never said she wouldn’t say yes if I ask, but she’s never confirmed it either, and it drives me crazy.
I’d never been unsure of anything until Josslyn walked into my life and turned my world on its axis. Living with her isn’t enough. I know she’s happy with me. I make sure of it. But it’s not enough. I want more assurances. The thought crosses my mind more than it should.