Page 20

Chapter Twenty

Christina

We have one more dance practice before Cam leaves for a week-long road trip tomorrow on a sweep of the eastern half of the Midwest, including Pittsburgh, Columbus, and Detroit. All are seasoned teams, and I suspect our Tornadoes are going to struggle against them as the guys are still learning to read each other.

Cam has been stressed after practice the past couple of days which is also affecting his dancing. He’s strung so tight, his muscles are tighter and his spins are faster.

I chose songs with faster beats. Competition ballroom is performed to music with 98 to 120 beats per minute, depending on the dance style. But the reality dance show competitions are often performed to music with significantly higher speeds, over 140 BPM.

I plan on using a faster song for our second dance anyway, so I focus on that this week, allowing him to get some of his angst out on the hardwood and loosen his muscles up.

The last thing he or the team needs is for the starting goalie to have a groin pull this early in the season. He’s done so well that Murphy only started two pre-season games and none since the regular season started.

Given the road trip, I’m hoping for more than dancing in this last practice so we’re meeting at my house. A knock sounds before he enters, as we’ve agreed. He smiles when he sees me in the kitchen tidying and places a bag with the team logo on the bar to come kiss me. “Hey, Dancer.”

I beam. I love that he’s given me a nickname.

“I brought you something.”

“Oh yeah?” I cock my head. He knows I can get team merch any time.

He goes back around the island and gestures to the bag, placing his hands on the counter, nearly vibrating with expectancy.

I tug it closer and peer inside, finding the heavy polyester of a jersey in a deep purple, our home color. Tugging it out, I hold it up, surprised to see “25” on it.

He’d told me he chose number twenty-five for several reasons. He’d been in Vegas on Spring Break when he saw a Vancouver goalie shutout. The guy’s number was 25, which is unusual for a goalie; they often choose numbers thirty or higher. Then he’d decided twenty-five was the age by which he’d have a seven-figure savings account, which still makes me smile and caused me to change his ringtone to Million Dollar Baby . He is well on track for that—especially if he’d let me direct him on investing a bit more.

More importantly, I never knew marketing tagged Cam as a popular enough player to order jerseys with his name and number. This is huge. I flip it around. Sure enough, “Hill” is in large white letters across the shoulders. “Cam!”

His grin is so wide I swear it must hurt his face. He deserves this. Greg’s team would only order this based on a combination of popularity and statistics. And his stats have been excellent so far.

“Congratulations!” I lean in to kiss him. “I’m surprised you didn’t wear it here.”

He shakes his head. “No, this is yours. I figured you could wear it to the games since you’ll be in my seats.”

My smile fades. We’re already pushing the envelope by me sitting there. I can’t wear his name on me. That would announce to the world that we’re together. Only lovers and families wear named jerseys in the players’ boxes.

When I say that to him, he scoffs. “Half the damn crowd is in Buzz’s number.”

“They aren’t in players’ seats.”

“No, but who is? Friends ”—he emphasizes the word—“and family. So it makes sense that they’re the only people you’d see in the player’s jersey. If I had a non-hockey guy friend here who came to the games, he’d wear it without worrying about people thinking we were lovers.”

“I really love the gift. But I can’t play favorites as an owner, just as Greg couldn’t pick a player’s jersey and wear it. I’m sorry, Cam.”

He grimaces and turns toward the over-sink window, leaning his hands on the counter edge. “I don’t understand why you’re drawing this arbitrary line. You’ll sit in my seats but won’t wear my jersey.”

“It’s more…,” I search for the right word. “Personal.”

“My hands will be on you in personal places, in public, when we dance. What’s a jersey?”

I tilt my head, surprised at the vehemence of his reaction. “I thought we agreed this would be casual as well as private? Why are you upset? It’s not like we’re in a relationship, planning marriage and kids.”

He stiffens and turns his head to look at me. “What if we were? Would you wear it then?”

Is he thinking along those lines? I thought he had as much as risk as me, if not more. Dammit, I was hoping by keeping it casual and short-lived so I wouldn’t need to have the conversation about children. Although the more time I spend with him, the harder it’ll be to move on after the ball. “We aren’t.”

He starts to say something, but I cut him off, needing to make this part clear. “And Cam, we won’t be. This ends at the Holiday Ball. I don’t plan to have children.”

This shouldn’t be a big deal as we’ve both agreed to the secret and casual thing. It feels big, though. I bite my lip waiting for his reaction.

“Wait, what?” He frowns.

I nod. “You heard me. This needs to remain secret and casual. I’m sorry I can’t wear your jersey. I respect your frustration. And I am excited for you. You’ll have a ton of women lining up to wear these.” And doesn’t that kill me to say or think about.

He’s still staring at me in shock. Shit. I knew this was too good to be true.

Finally he asks, “How did I not know this?”

I shrug. “It never came up.”

“Right. Secret and casual.”

Ugh. It should be our mantra. I hate hearing it as much as he clearly hates saying it.

He waves a hand at the jersey. “Wear it to sleep in or use it to wash your car. I don’t care. Oh, but of course you don’t wash your own car, do you, Princess?”

I was enjoying the idea of sleeping with his name on me but he went and turned vicious. “Hey. That’s not fair. I thanked you for the gift. I’m sorry I can’t live up to your expectations. You have no right to be mean.”

He sighs and drops his head, leaning back against the counter. “Sorry. Give me a minute.”

I stay quiet, arms wrapped around my middle. That last shot hurt. I’ve never thrown my money in his face, and he’ll make close to a million dollars this season so it’s not like we live on completely different planes.

He straightens and comes over to me, putting a finger under my chin to bring my eyes to his. “I’m sorry. Really. And yeah, based on my reaction now, I realize that part of my desire to see you in my jersey was because I want to publicly declare you as mine. I’m in your bed. Hell, I’m in you . And I want to see me on you when I’m playing. But you’re right—”

Wow . I can’t remember another boyfriend admitting to being wrong, even the few times I’d received an apology. Much less one who had figured that out with a few minutes of introspection. If I hadn’t seen Cam’s records, I wouldn’t believe he was only twenty-four. For that matter, his interest in marriage and children and his considerate nature demonstrate a maturity beyond his years.

“This can’t be long term. We agreed this would be secret. So while I stand by my other arguments, I understand why you don’t want to risk it.”

He’s being solicitous of my feelings even when we disagree, but I still flinch again at his reference of an end date. Which isn’t at all fair to him when I insisted on it, but there it is.

Oh shit . I’ve been unconsciously evaluating the possibility of a real relationship. Dammit, I’m half in love with him. Of course, I figure this out in the same conversation I learn that he wants children. My luck with men sucks.

“Am I forgiven? Please?” he cajoles.

Still reeling from my self-discovery, I need a moment to gather myself. Slanting him a teasing look, I reply, “Mostly. I’ll have to come up with an act of contrition later. In the meantime, we should get some dance practice in before your road trip.”

“Lead on,” he says with a sweep of his arm toward the hall.

I grab the bag and jersey and take them to my bedroom before joining him to warm up in the dance room.

* * * *

I hold it together until the next morning when Cam leaves for his road trip, then call Maria. When she doesn’t answer, I check her schedule and realize she’s working at the coffee shop. Lauren and Nicole will be at their offices or on their way.

I send a group text.

So it was great. I communicated, and he’s definitely not your average pretty boy. BUT…

Nicole

hands clapping

Lauren

Woohoo!

Maria

emoji with party hat and horn

The subject of kids came up indirectly and he was really thrown when I said I don’t plan to have any. He definitely wants them.

Maria

So? cowboy emoji

Yeah, yeah, she said to treat him as a cowboy to ride and nothing more, but that’s easier said than done. He’s so damned nice.

Lauren

How much did you talk about it? I mean, he’s 24. He’s probably not looking for them right now. You can still have fun.

Nicole

Yeah, Maria’s advice was to use him for an orgasm or four, so unless you’ve already had four…

blushing emoji

Nicole

Congratulations! Go you!

Maria

You weren’t supposed to fall for him. But your concern seems beyond a casual fling. So I’d repeat our theme of the last GNO - communication is key.

Lauren

What she said.

I don’t want to put his career at risk. If this doesn’t work out, he has far more to lose.

Nicole

He’s 24, not 4. Let him worry about that. And you can talk about that, too.

Maria

Or just ride that ride until you can’t and do your best to keep it secret and casual.

Ok, I’ll think about it. Thanks, y’all.

They all send me hug emojis. We’ll figure the rest out at the next girls’ night, but it helps just to vent. I can’t decide if I want to talk to Cam about it or leave it be. After all, he repeated the idea of short-lived and secret. I need to guard my heart as best I can and enjoy this while it lasts.