Page 97 of Playing Dirty
I pull her close, feeling the warmth of her skin through the worn cotton of the shirt she stole from me weeks ago. "Thanks. I won't lie, having you there makes a difference."
She looks up at me. "Yeah?"
“Aye.” I nod. "You're like a lucky charm to me now. Whenever I spot you in the crowd, I feel like I can't lose."
She snorts. "That's funny, because I feel like you have that same effect on my life in general."
"A match made in heaven." I laugh and kiss her, and it goes soft and lingering for a moment before she pulls back, making a move to slide off the bed and back toward her nightly routine.
"Wait." I catch her hand before she's out of reach. "How are you doing? Honestly. It's been a lot since everything went public, and we've barely stopped to breathe. How are you actually doing with all of it?"
"Oh, you know." She waves her free hand vaguely. "At least my parents have been behaving themselves since Dublin, so that's one miracle. Though the label expansion has my workload bigger than it's ever been, so the timing on the entire internet having opinions about me could honestly be better." She flashes a smile. "But I'm fine. Really."
I study her for a long moment. I know her tells by now. The smile that arrives a half-second too fast. The sudden fascination with whatever her hands can fidget with. She's lying through her teeth.
"Margot," I say, propping myself up on an elbow.
"What?" She's now deeply invested in a loose thread on her pajama shorts.
"You know what," I say gently. "How are you doing? Minus the lie this time."
She sighs, and her shoulders come down an inch. "Okay. Yes. I'm a little stressed."
"How stressed?"
"Cillian." She gives me a look, half exasperated, half fond. "You have a Stanley Cup Final starting tomorrow. You do not need to spend tonight worrying about me having a tiny bit of extra stress. That's the whole reason I didn't bring it up. I'm handling it. I'm okay."
"You know you can tell me this stuff, right?" I run my thumb across her knuckles. "Me focusing on the Cup and me knowing how you're doing aren't in competition."
"I know that." She leans down and kisses me, quick and sure. "And I do tell you. Of course I do. It's just normal stress, nothing crazy. You focus on the Cup, and I'll handle the work and let the comments roll off my back, alright?"
I study her face a moment longer, searching for the crack I saw a minute ago, but she smiles at me, warm and steady, and whatever it was is gone. So I nod.
"Alright,” I say. “But please promise me you'll say something if it ever gets bigger than normal stress?"
"I promise. Now I have to finish my skincare so we can actually sleep," she says, rolling off the bed. "It's important that I get enough rest if I'm going to be your number one fan tomorrow."
I smack her backside on the way up, and she yelps and swats at me, laughing, and pads back toward her regiment of bottles.
"Tease," I call after her.
"Discipline," she corrects primly from the doorway. "One of us has to have some. Especially since I've got that miserable cocktail thing beforehand tomorrow."
"Aye, I almost forgot. Will it make you late?" A bone-cracking yawn catches, the whole day landing on me at once.
"No, I'll be there in plenty of time." She leans back around the doorframe, and her nose scrunches. "I just wish I could be with you all day instead of stuck making small talk at a Solstice fundraiser. It's a good cause, so I feel guilty complaining, but I hate that I can't be with you for more of it before the puck drops."
"Doesn't matter to me, Ace." I settle back against the pillows, watching her. "As long as you're in that building by the time it counts, I'm a happy man."
"Then I'll see you at the glass," she says, warm and certain, and disappears to finish her routine.
I lie there in the low light, listening to the tap run and the small clinks of her bottles, the city glittering quietly beyond the window. Tomorrow it all begins, the biggest series of my life, the thing I've chased since I was a boy. But lying here, listening to the small, ordinary sounds of her ten feet away, I'd swear I've already won the part that matters.
27
Margot
I drift back out onto the terrace with a fresh glass, having spent the last half hour hiding in the kitchen catching up with Celeste and Isabelle, who's catering the whole thing with Alex and plated tray after gorgeous tray while we talked.
