Page 7

Chapter six

Silas

Seriously, Chad!?

Practice was brutal today, and the regular season hasn’t even started yet. That should say something, but I know I’m the only one to blame.

After leaving Cecilia, I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I made my way up to my penthouse, walked over to the fridge to grab a beer, opened it, and then just stood there.

It was like every fiber in my body was begging me to go back to her, to demand she let me hold her for the night—and possibly never let go.

But I couldn’t do any of that, so instead I sat in my living room and turned on ESPN. That lasted approximately twenty minutes before I realized I had been sitting in front of the TV and yet had no idea what was happening on the screen. I hadn’t even taken a sip of my beer.

So, I got up, shut off the TV, dumped my beer down the drain, and headed to my master suite to take a shower. I was hoping a cold shower would help settle my mind. Alas, that proved to be ineffective.

Thoughts of the petite brunette consumed me no matter what I did or where I went. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours, and she already felt like a drug. One I’d willingly consume over and over again.

I ended up spending the night staring at the ceiling above my bed, wondering when I’d have the chance to see her again.

And when my alarm clock rang at 7:30 in the morning, I had managed to get in roughly four hours of rest. Not nearly enough if you ask Coach Jefferson, and that’s probably why he was up my ass all morning.

Our first official game of the season is in two weeks, and as the centerman and captain for the New York Griffins, I need to shake this feeling off and focus. My teammates need me if we want to make it to the playoffs this year.

Now that training is done for the day, I sit at my stall surrounded by my two wingers and best buds while the rest of the team goes about their business.

To my right, Clay Burkley, our left winger and alternate captain, is in the process of dressing after a shower. And to my left is our right winger, Greyson Ford, who was traded here from Toronto four years ago. He sits on the bench, removing his equipment at a snail’s pace.

I, for one, am already set to leave; I just have to wait after these two doofuses since we carpooled to get to the arena this morning.

“What’s got you by the balls today, man? You’re all... jittery, it’s not like you,” Clay says as he places his feet through the leg openings of his sweats.

“I think I met my wife,” I answer blankly, staring ahead. The more I repeat the words in my head, the more I realize just how accurate they are. It terrifies the fuck out of me.

Clay freezes instantly, pants halfway up his thighs and an expression of surprise lining his features at the revelation.

Beside me, I sense Greyson shift in my direction before he says cautiously, “And does your future wife know this?” As if he’s afraid I might hit him in the back of the head if he misspeaks. I might.

“Of course not! We just met. I don’t want to scare her off.”

Clay finishes getting dressed and sits on the bench, scratching his head like he’s trying to process my words. “Okay, back up. You just met her, and you’re already certain she’s going to be your wife?”

I scrub my face with my hands, trying to sort through my thoughts, but the answer comes easy. “Yes.”

He leans forward, placing his elbows over his knees, and claps his hands once. “Well, I guess you got it easy, don’t you?” There’s a hint of sarcasm, but I ignore it.

“Yeah, I just have to figure out how to win her over first,” I say, nodding to myself, going over the different possible ways to achieve my goal in my mind.

Greyson stands, finally ready to hit the showers. “All right, that should be easy enough. First, is she at least into you?”

“Of course, she is!”

“Yeah, you see, I would lose that kind of attitude if you plan on getting the girl.” Clay chuckles, placing his head in his hands as I furrow my brows his way.

“Okay, okay, we get it. She’s into you. Then that makes it simple, just ask her out.”

I look back promptly at Greyson and straighten up. “Right, yes! That’s what I’ll do. Thanks for the help, Ford.”

Before he walks off to the showers, I hear him mumble something along the lines of, “Doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.”

I reach into the side pocket of my duffle bag for my phone and begin swiping through my contacts, only to stop short once I reach the name ‘Chad’ . “SHIT.” I really am an idiot. I never even asked for her number.. .

Clay leans against the back of the bench, interlocking his fingers behind his head and stretching out his legs in front of him. He closes his eyes and says with a smug smile, “What’s the matter, Hayes? Trouble in paradise already?”

“No, I just forgot to get her number,” I grumble.

A belly laugh gushes out of him, making him fold in half. He holds his stomach with one hand and slaps his knee with the other, gaining the attention of the few players still around. Then he comes back up, gasping for air and wiping the tears from his eyes.

I slap him in the chest, which only makes him laugh harder. “SHUT UP, BURKLEY! It’s not a big deal, I know where she lives.”

His laugh dies down. “Okay, well, that’s at least something. What are you gonna do? Show up to her place?”

“Mm, I don’t know, she has a roommate. What if she’s crazy? I don’t want to risk it,” I tell him, scratching at my temple and trying to come up with some way of getting to my Minnie.

“What if you send her something with a note and your number attached?”

I snap my fingers and point his way as I bob my head at the idea. “That’s actually a great plan! Thanks, man.”

He smacks me on the back. “No problem, always happy to help. Anyway, it’s about time you find yourself someone to settle down with.

Morgan would kill me if I didn’t try to help in some way.

” I chuckle at his comment because he’s right.

Morgan, his wife, has been trying to set me up with her friends for years.

Grey returns shortly after and dresses up, and once we’re all ready to go, we make our way to Clay’s SUV and pile in. From the passenger seat, I unlock my phone with a plan to get some deliveries on the way, but first I have a call to make.

Operation Get My Girl: activated.

CECILIA

“I can’t believe you don’t even have his number, how are you supposed to see him again?” Emma says devastatingly, as if she’s the one going through this particular situation.

We’re on our way up to our condo after what felt like the longest day at work.

With the constant questions about Silas, keeping focus on my tasks was anything but easy.

Although, I did manage to finish up the Margo project before the end of the day, which means that everything is ready and in motion for event day next week.

When Em had asked me if he had texted yet, I confessed that we hadn’t exchanged numbers. She was appalled, nearly having a meltdown in the middle of the break room during lunch. I have to agree, I was a bit upset when the night was over and I realized he hadn’t asked me.

But I’m sure if I wanted to get in touch, there would be a way since he happens to live in the same building. I could simply ask Stanley to pass a message the next time he saw him or even the front desk to deliver one to him.

That, however, is information I withheld from my dear friend. Some things I’d like to keep to myself. I’m not sure how she would react if she knew he lived just three floors above us. Which has my curiosity piquing as to how she’s managed to live here for the past two years and not see him once.

“I don’t know; he knows where we live, so I guess if he wants to see me again, he knows where to go,” I say with a shrug, downplaying how much I want him to show up.

We exit the elevator cab and head down the hall to our door when something catches my eye.

I stop at once, my heart beating erratically out of my chest. Because there on our doormat sits a white shoebox-sized package with a red satin ribbon wrapping it shut.

And I know without a doubt it’s from Silas.

From this distance, I can’t see if there’s a name attached to the gift, but even if there isn’t, I can feel it down to the marrow of my bones.

Once I snap out of my frozen state, I take tentative steps toward the box.

Emma is too wrapped up in one of her stories to even notice it yet, but that’s okay, it will give me more time to suppress my reaction.

I don’t want her to know just how desperate I was all day, waiting and hoping for a sign from him.

I kneel down, facing the package, and begin to examine it, delicately sliding my fingertips over the soft ribbon.

There’s no writing on the box, not even a card holding a name.

I pick up the box between my small hands and take notice of the heat radiating through it. Whatever it holds, it’s still warm.

I quickly look back the way we came, expecting to find Silas standing a few feet away, but he’s not. The hallway is vacant of any presence except my own and Emma’s. I turn back and stand, unlocking the door and walking in with the gift in hand.

I mosey over to the kitchen island and set it down when Emma finally takes notice. “Where did you get that?”

“It was by the door,” I tell her with a faint voice.

“Who’s it from?” She shimmies over to inspect it in turn. “Hmm, weird. There’s no name.” Her eyes suddenly widen before she turns to me drastically and grabs me by the forearms. “OH MY GOD! It’s from him , isn’t it? Isn’t it!?” She begins to bounce us in place excitedly.

“Stop it,” I say, a giggle slipping from my lips as I let her drag me along. “We don’t even know for sure. Like you said, there’s no name.”

“Then what are we waiting for! Let’s find out.”

She stops our jumping motion and pulls out a bar stool, tapping the seat twice in indication for me to sit. She pushes the box in front of me as she pulls out her own stool at the same time and scoots it as close as possible, practically sitting on my lap.

She nudges me in the side with her elbow and juts out her chin in the direction of the mystery box. “Open it,” she says with a kind smile.

My hands shake faintly as I grab hold of the two ends of the ribbon, pulling on them diligently and letting them fall to the side. I take a deep breath and begin to lift the lid.

A salivating smell erupts from the box and penetrates my nostrils as a heavenly aroma resurfaces from my memories. My stomach instantly knots at the possibility of what may be inside, my throat constricting as I try to swallow.

Removing the cover completely, I set it aside and am greeted by none other than my favorite pastry of all time.

Inside the gift box sits half a dozen freshly baked almond croissants, stacked perfectly on a large red napkin that matches the ribbon.

Above the stack rests a small white envelope with my name written in beautiful handwriting.

Emma stays seated patiently by my side, her hands interlocked over her lap as she regards me with tenderness in her eyes. I exhale slowly and turn over the envelope in my hand, then lift the flap and prudently extract the paper from within.

My eyes well up at the simple note written. How can a man who barely knows me be this attentive to every word I’ve spoken?

Emma leans in and presses her palm to my arm, rubbing up and down my biceps in a soothing way. “What does it say?”

I clear my throat. “For those days when you’re missing home.” My voice cracks as I speak the words, stopping me from reading the rest that includes his name and phone number. A lone tear makes its way down my cheek.

“Oh, Cece…” Em pulls me into her arms and rubs my back as I fight my hardest to keep my emotions at bay. I wasn’t expecting such an innocent act to hit me this hard.

I place the note down on the countertop for Emma to read it over. She smiles sweetly at the words before speaking up, trying to lighten the mood. “On the plus side, you now have his number,” she beams enthusiastically, making me chuckle softly at her remark.

“Are you going to have one?” she asks, eyeing the pastries with desire.

“Not right now, but go ahead. Just don’t eat them all!” I tell her, nodding my head in the direction of the box. I swipe the note from the island and start walking backwards. “I’m just going to make a call first,” I say, waving the note.

I turn around and walk off to my room, and just before the door shuts behind me, I hear her call out, “YES GIRL! LOCK THAT MAN DOWN!”

I shake my head and laugh. That’s the plan.