Page 49

CHAPTER 48

EMERY

The first fun thing I do in New York is go to a hockey game. Not just any hockey game, but a PWHL game that one of my college teammates is playing in.

It’s been a long few days of getting settled and meeting my instructors and fellow trainees, and there’s something comforting about getting on the train to Newark and seeing the number of jerseys streaming towards the arena when I get off.

It’s a sharp contrast to how out of my depth I feel at the culinary school—but I know I’m not alone in that. The learning curve is steep, because it’s an intensive program, and I’ve already learned a lot in just a few days.

My phone rings just after I’ve scanned my ticket and gone through the gate.

I take a deep breath before answer.

“Hi, Mom. Sorry if it’s loud, I’m on my way in to watch Cecilia play a game today.”

“Who is Cecilia? That name is familiar.”

I picture Alexei counting backwards, seeking patience, and I laugh under my breath. “Cecilia Lombardi, Mom.” There’s a blank pause. “We played together in college, and she’s a pro player now. Anyway, what’s up?”

“We just haven’t heard from you all week.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“But not too busy to go to see a friend play hockey.”

“You caught me,” I say dryly.

“Emery, please. I’m trying to be interested in how it’s going for you.”

Right. Because I told her she should do that. “It’s great. I’m learning a lot. I like my chef instructors.” I dodge around a rowdy group and head for the escalator. My seat is up on the second level. “It’s hard to be away from Alexei and Inessa, of course, but he’s playing against New York next week, so I don’t have to miss him for?—”

I cut myself off, but I’ve already said too much.

My mom sighs happily. “I knew it.”

Damn it. I step to the side of the concourse and lean back against the wall. “Mom, don’t.”

“But, Emery…”

I swallow hard. I wish Alexei was here to hold me as I say this. “Mom, you’re never that happy for me in any other way, so please don’t be that happy for me just because I’ve fallen in love. Trust me, I’m happy for me, too, but I was also happy for me when I was made captain in Boston and you didn’t bother to come to my first game of the season. I was happy for me when I ran the Chicago Marathon. Do you even remember that? I was happy for me when I went to culinary school, and started my own business, and closed that business, and applied to this program. I will be happy for myself thousands of more times across my lifetime, but if it doesn’t relate to an NHL player, will you even notice? I don’t think so. Maybe you should think about why you’re the last person to find out that Alexei and I are together.”

“Oh,” she says. And then she starts crying.

To her credit, she pulls herself together before I can complete the thought of, really, Mom? Making this about your ? —

“I’m sorry, baby. I will try to be better.”

“I hope you will.”

“Am I really the last to find out?”

“No, of course not. I haven’t told Dad, either.”

She sobs into a laugh. “Okay. Were your brothers Neanderthals about it?”

“No. I made them be mature about my sex life before I told them who it was with.”

“Emery Granger!”

“Don’t make me get specific, Mom. I will.”

This time, her laugh is all giggle, no sob. “Is he good to you?”

“So good. He’s very supportive.”

“Good.” She takes a deep breath. “Maybe I will ask him for advice on that.”