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“And if I win, I want a massage every single night.”
“Done,” I say, holding out my hand, and we shake on it. “Ladies first.” The first axe Harper throws bounces back and nearly hits her. She gives me a look of horror. “I want to see you in something red,” I tease, sending a wink her way. Harper flicks her hair behind her back and concentrates on the board, and the next thing I know, thwack, thwack, thwack. She hits the target every single time. I stare at her in disbelief.
“What, like it’s hard.” She grins, quoting, ‘Legally Blonde’ which I found out recently is one of her favorite movies. She made me watch it when I said I hadn’t seen it because I was a toddler when it came out. She then went on an age spiral as she asked me all these different questions to see if I knew what she was talking about—songs, TV shows, movies.
Now it’s my turn. There is no way I can lose at this. I’m a professional athlete. I try to zone into the target, and the first one bounces off, too, and nearly decapitates us. Then the next ones make it on the board but all over the shop, not perfect bullseyes like she just did.
“Best of three,” I tell her.
“Don’t beatyourself up over it, you can’t be good at everything,” Harper tells me.
“I don’t understand,” I whine. Harper beat me at axe throwing, then at pool, and then at the stupid arcade games. “I’m starting to doubt a lot of things.”
“Golf, we should play.”
“Felix, I think you need to stop. You are perfect at hockey, shit at everything else,” Harper teases me. “Hope you’ve limbered up those fingers, my back is feeling awfully tight after winning all those games.”
I slap her ass, which makes her squeal as I rush her home.
“You look so handsome.”Harper grins as she fixes my bowtie.
“And you are breathtaking.” She’s wearing a black high-neck evening dress that molds to her curves perfectly, then the backscoops low, but there is a long train that falls from her neck all the way down to the floor. Her blonde hair is pulled up into an updo and she’s dripping in diamonds. I lean forward and kiss her gently, not wanting to ruin her makeup. “I’m the luckiest man in the world to be on your arm tonight.”
“Come on, you. We have to walk our first red carpet together and survive the media scrum.”
“I’ve got you,” I say, giving her a wink.
As istypical with New York traffic, things take forever, and thanks to the event it’s even worse. We eventually arrive, and as soon as the press knows it is us getting out of the car, we are assaulted by flashing lights and screaming people.
“Shit, is it always like this?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“Not normally this bad,” she says, taking my hand as we walk up the red carpet and pose for the photographers. When we get to the end, there are a couple of reporters. “We need to say hi and that’s it,” she assures me. I follow her lead.
“Felix, do you have anything to say about the engagement of your ex, Cynthia, and your former teammate, Stephen?” the reporter asks. Harper squeezes my hand. I thought hearing that news would make me feel some type of way, but I feel nothing. Oh no. I feel relief because if they hadn’t done what they had, I wouldn’t be here on this incredible woman’s arm.
“I wish them both nothing but the best. They got their happily ever after, and I got mine.” With that, I turn on my heel and walk off the red carpet.
“Are you okay? I had no idea they had gotten engaged.”
“Me either. I honestly don’t feel anything toward them. I’m glad they messed up because, otherwise, I would have never met you.” Harper wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me.
“You guys make me sick,” Sam says, breaking up our moment.
“You arrived,” Harper says, greeting her brother.
“Traffic was a nightmare. Have you seen Mom and Dad?” he asks.
Harper shakes her head. “We’ve only just arrived.”
“Come on, let’s get their meet and greet over with so we can party,” Sam states, leading the way through the crowd.
We eventually find them and walk over where we spend the next hour talking and smiling to whoever approaches that donated money to Harper’s mother’s charity.
“I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this. It’s nearly over,” Harper whispers into my ear. Then she stills.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Sam asks angrily. When I turn around, I see a smug-looking Josh, with some young blonde on his arm, walking up with a sour-faced older couple.
“You need to leave,” I say, getting up in Josh’s face. Sam moves and stands behind me.