Roman
Page 18
“Just as long as no one holds it against me if it’s awful,” I say teasingly, and Gray laughs.
Gray actually laughs at something I said, and it sounds warm and genuine. I have to wonder why she’s all of a sudden so accepting of me.
She leads me into the kitchen and I see Brian leaning with his elbows on the large island in the center of the kitchen. His eyes light up when he sees me, and within moments, his hands are on my shoulders and he’s leaning down to kiss my cheek. My eyes cut to Gray to see her reaction, but her back is to me as she hands the wine I brought to her husband, Ryker.
When my dad—Brian—no, my dad pulls away, I turn to Ryker. “You don’t need any introduction. I’m a huge fan of yours.”
He steps past Gray and holds his empty hand out to me with a warm smile. “It’s great to meet you, Lexi.”
Brian immediately moves to the bottle of wine that’s already open and pours a glass. As he hands it to me, Gray asks, “Dad said you’d just moved here about seven months ago. Were you always a Cold Fury fan?”
Her tone is inquisitive, but I also know she’s measuring me up as well.
“No,” I tell her honestly. “Wasn’t a fan of hockey at all. But I started reading about it when I learned Da—I mean, Brian, owned the Cold Fury. And I started watching it, and of course, I watched all the playoffs and you win the Stanley Cup. It was really exciting.”
“Have you been to any of the games this season?” Gray asks.
I shake my head. “I’m saving up some of my singing tips to get a ticket. Maybe around March.”
Gray’s face remains impassive, but Brian immediately says, “Well, that won’t do. You can have a ticket to any game you want to go to. In fact, you can sit up in the owner’s box with—”
“Dad,” Gray interjects bluntly. “Not until the test comes back.”
“And I don’t need you to give me a ticket,” I say firmly, my eyes cutting from Brian back to Gray. “I can buy my own.”
Gray flinches slightly and lowers her gaze.
“Listen,” Brian finally says, addressing the elephant in the room. “How about we all agree that we’ll just take the next few weeks until the test comes back to get to know each other. And, Lexi, if the test concludes what I expect it will, you will most certainly not be buying tickets to the game. It the test reveals otherwise, then worst-case scenario is that we’ve become friends.”
I hear Ryker snort, but I don’t dare look at him. In fact, I don’t dare look away from Brian, who seems to be pinning me in place with a “dad” look that I’ve never experienced before. It says there’s to be no argument.
“Okay,” I say softly.
“So, Lexi,” Ryker says, and my gaze slides to him. He’s looking at me with open interest. “Brian’s told us a little about you, but how about you fill Gray and me in on your life so far. Like where you were born, and where you lived. We understand you’ve lived in different places.”
I take a sip of my wine, and after swallowing I say, “Well…let’s see. I was born in Hartford, Connecticut, and lived there until I was eighteen. When I graduated from high school, I didn’t have any interest in college right then so I thought I’d travel around. A friend and I went out to Portland, and that’s when I started working as a barista. Stayed there a few years, fell in love, or so I thought, and followed a guy out to Tucson. Fell out of love—namely because he was also loving someone else behind my back—and left Tucson for Little Rock. Over the next three years I lived in Little Rock, Nashville, and then Pittsburgh. I was working as a bartender in Pittsburgh when I found out my mom was sick, and I went back home to Hartford to take care of her until she passed away. Then I moved here.”
“I’m really sorry about your mom,” Gray says softly, and I see within the depths of her eyes an understanding of my pain. She lost her mom too, although far earlier than I did. Just like I didn’t have a father growing up, she didn’t have a mother. But I’m sure she can imagine how horrible it would be to lose her father, and that’s where I know she truly gets me.
“Thank you,” I murmur, looking down into my wine. “It wasn’t pretty at the end, and she didn’t go fast. Luckily they had her pretty drugged up, so I don’t think she was suffering. Still…I got to the point where I would just sit in her hospice room and talk to her, repeatedly just telling her that it was all right to let go. I was so grateful when she finally did.”
I look up and see a light sheen of tears formed in Gray’s eyes, but they’re not looking at me. Rather, they’re pinned on her father, and I know she is indeed imagining what that might be like if that happened to him. My gaze cuts to Brian, but he’s looking at me, his face awash with utter sympathy.
“I can’t even imagine being in that situation…just watching and waiting,” Gray says hoarsely, and I look back to her. She’s blinked the tears away, but I can tell she’s still ruminating about mortality. “It gives me a little more clarity as to why you came here. Why you want to get to know us.”
“Not to replace her,” I say quickly. “Never that.”
“Not to replace,” Brian says gently. “To add to your already full life.”
Gray smiles at me, then crosses the kitchen, brushing past me. But she hesitates…lays a hand on my arm and gives it a tiny squeeze of sympathy before she walks to the stove and pulls the tinfoil off the beef tenderloin that sits in a roasting pan on top.
“So what’s your current story, Lexi?” Ryker asks casually as he moves to the cabinet that holds water glasses and starts pulling some out. He then in turn puts each one under the ice dispenser and fills them up. “Brian says you’re a musician?”
I shoot a smirk at Brian and then look to Ryker. “I actually make and serve coffee at The Grind, but I do a little music on the side. It doesn’t really pay much, but the tips are nice.”
“I never knew a ukulele could be so versatile,” Brian adds proudly, and I can tell by the smile on Ryker’s face as he fills the water glasses that Brian has actually told both Gray and Ryker quite a bit about my singing.
“Mom wanted me to play an instrument when I was little, and I didn’t want to. We argued about it incessantly, but she insisted. We finally compromised, and she told me I could pick the instrument. I seriously considered the drums just to drive her nuts, but I was totally charmed by the ukulele after listening to Israel Kamakawiwo’ole.”
Gray actually laughs at something I said, and it sounds warm and genuine. I have to wonder why she’s all of a sudden so accepting of me.
She leads me into the kitchen and I see Brian leaning with his elbows on the large island in the center of the kitchen. His eyes light up when he sees me, and within moments, his hands are on my shoulders and he’s leaning down to kiss my cheek. My eyes cut to Gray to see her reaction, but her back is to me as she hands the wine I brought to her husband, Ryker.
When my dad—Brian—no, my dad pulls away, I turn to Ryker. “You don’t need any introduction. I’m a huge fan of yours.”
He steps past Gray and holds his empty hand out to me with a warm smile. “It’s great to meet you, Lexi.”
Brian immediately moves to the bottle of wine that’s already open and pours a glass. As he hands it to me, Gray asks, “Dad said you’d just moved here about seven months ago. Were you always a Cold Fury fan?”
Her tone is inquisitive, but I also know she’s measuring me up as well.
“No,” I tell her honestly. “Wasn’t a fan of hockey at all. But I started reading about it when I learned Da—I mean, Brian, owned the Cold Fury. And I started watching it, and of course, I watched all the playoffs and you win the Stanley Cup. It was really exciting.”
“Have you been to any of the games this season?” Gray asks.
I shake my head. “I’m saving up some of my singing tips to get a ticket. Maybe around March.”
Gray’s face remains impassive, but Brian immediately says, “Well, that won’t do. You can have a ticket to any game you want to go to. In fact, you can sit up in the owner’s box with—”
“Dad,” Gray interjects bluntly. “Not until the test comes back.”
“And I don’t need you to give me a ticket,” I say firmly, my eyes cutting from Brian back to Gray. “I can buy my own.”
Gray flinches slightly and lowers her gaze.
“Listen,” Brian finally says, addressing the elephant in the room. “How about we all agree that we’ll just take the next few weeks until the test comes back to get to know each other. And, Lexi, if the test concludes what I expect it will, you will most certainly not be buying tickets to the game. It the test reveals otherwise, then worst-case scenario is that we’ve become friends.”
I hear Ryker snort, but I don’t dare look at him. In fact, I don’t dare look away from Brian, who seems to be pinning me in place with a “dad” look that I’ve never experienced before. It says there’s to be no argument.
“Okay,” I say softly.
“So, Lexi,” Ryker says, and my gaze slides to him. He’s looking at me with open interest. “Brian’s told us a little about you, but how about you fill Gray and me in on your life so far. Like where you were born, and where you lived. We understand you’ve lived in different places.”
I take a sip of my wine, and after swallowing I say, “Well…let’s see. I was born in Hartford, Connecticut, and lived there until I was eighteen. When I graduated from high school, I didn’t have any interest in college right then so I thought I’d travel around. A friend and I went out to Portland, and that’s when I started working as a barista. Stayed there a few years, fell in love, or so I thought, and followed a guy out to Tucson. Fell out of love—namely because he was also loving someone else behind my back—and left Tucson for Little Rock. Over the next three years I lived in Little Rock, Nashville, and then Pittsburgh. I was working as a bartender in Pittsburgh when I found out my mom was sick, and I went back home to Hartford to take care of her until she passed away. Then I moved here.”
“I’m really sorry about your mom,” Gray says softly, and I see within the depths of her eyes an understanding of my pain. She lost her mom too, although far earlier than I did. Just like I didn’t have a father growing up, she didn’t have a mother. But I’m sure she can imagine how horrible it would be to lose her father, and that’s where I know she truly gets me.
“Thank you,” I murmur, looking down into my wine. “It wasn’t pretty at the end, and she didn’t go fast. Luckily they had her pretty drugged up, so I don’t think she was suffering. Still…I got to the point where I would just sit in her hospice room and talk to her, repeatedly just telling her that it was all right to let go. I was so grateful when she finally did.”
I look up and see a light sheen of tears formed in Gray’s eyes, but they’re not looking at me. Rather, they’re pinned on her father, and I know she is indeed imagining what that might be like if that happened to him. My gaze cuts to Brian, but he’s looking at me, his face awash with utter sympathy.
“I can’t even imagine being in that situation…just watching and waiting,” Gray says hoarsely, and I look back to her. She’s blinked the tears away, but I can tell she’s still ruminating about mortality. “It gives me a little more clarity as to why you came here. Why you want to get to know us.”
“Not to replace her,” I say quickly. “Never that.”
“Not to replace,” Brian says gently. “To add to your already full life.”
Gray smiles at me, then crosses the kitchen, brushing past me. But she hesitates…lays a hand on my arm and gives it a tiny squeeze of sympathy before she walks to the stove and pulls the tinfoil off the beef tenderloin that sits in a roasting pan on top.
“So what’s your current story, Lexi?” Ryker asks casually as he moves to the cabinet that holds water glasses and starts pulling some out. He then in turn puts each one under the ice dispenser and fills them up. “Brian says you’re a musician?”
I shoot a smirk at Brian and then look to Ryker. “I actually make and serve coffee at The Grind, but I do a little music on the side. It doesn’t really pay much, but the tips are nice.”
“I never knew a ukulele could be so versatile,” Brian adds proudly, and I can tell by the smile on Ryker’s face as he fills the water glasses that Brian has actually told both Gray and Ryker quite a bit about my singing.
“Mom wanted me to play an instrument when I was little, and I didn’t want to. We argued about it incessantly, but she insisted. We finally compromised, and she told me I could pick the instrument. I seriously considered the drums just to drive her nuts, but I was totally charmed by the ukulele after listening to Israel Kamakawiwo’ole.”
