Page 26 of Home for the Holidays

I toss and turn all night, and when it’s time to head downstairs for team breakfast, I’m no closer to an answer.

“You look like shit,” MacGregor says to me as I grab a plate.

“Thanks, asshole. Love you, too.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

I glare at him. “What, you ready to gloat?”

He sighs. “No, man. I want you to be happy. That’s all I want for the team. If you want to talk about it, I’ve got a listening ear.”

“Thanks.” I blow out a breath. “I think I might be rushing it with Rachel, but I don’t know if I care. I mean, I care. About her.”

MacGregor’s fuzzy red eyebrows go up. “Okay…”

“She just got out of a relationship. I never thought I’d have a chance with her. You know? She was, like, the accumulation of all of my fantasies come to life. And now she’s right here within my reach, and…”

“You don’t want to scare her off by coming on too strong,” he says slowly.

Letting out a sarcastic laugh, I tell him, “Too late. I asked her out on an actual date and she basically shriveled up and told me to get lost.”

He cocks his head. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound good.”

“I got her to agree to come to the team party with me, but…”

MacGregor freezes. “You what?”

“She’s coming to the holiday party.”

To my surprise, he smiles and shakes his head. “You’re insane.”

“Am I, though?”

“You don’t even know this chick,” he points out. “You’re family friends, right? How much do you talk to her?”

“I haven’t talked to her. Last time I saw her was about thirteen years ago.” That was when she and Josh broke up. Wincing, I add, “She used to date my brother.”

MacGregor bursts out laughing. “And now you’re going after her?”

“He wasn’t good enough for her.” I stab moodily at my scrambled eggs. “Even then, I knew she deserved better. I was too young then. But now we’re both adults. We’re on the same playing field.”

“No, you’re not.”

My eyebrows go up. “What do you mean?”

“Dude, you play in the motherfucking NHL. You’re a small-time celebrity.” He stares at me like I’m dumb.

“So?”

“So she’s—pardon my French—she’s a ‘commoner,’” MacGregor says with air quotes.

“Fuck off. She’s not. She’s⁠—”

“She’s not used to this lifestyle. It will be a big adjustment for her. You’re asking her to give up her life to accommodate yours. She has to give up a piece of herself to support you.”

I frown. “Does she really, though?”

“Once people see you together and you publicly announce you’re together, yeah, she’ll get dragged into the public eye whether you want it or not.” He shrugs. “Why do you think so many guys stay single?”