Page 71 of He Has Pluck

“No worries,” he says. “Your stats are what count, and you’ve racked up some excellent numbers, thank you very much.”

Now I laugh because it’s getting real. The door opens, and the owner of the Brawlers stands on the threshold, waving his hand for me to enter his plush office, another world, the world of the NHL.

* * *

Juliette texts me to meet her, and I’m barely touching the ground after the contract negotiation as I walk to the bar, the same place we went that first night we got together. But I slow down and practice my lines because I know she won’t be as happy as I am. She’ll be thrilled for me, but she’ll think a three-year contract, tying me to Boston, is the end of us, and I know it’s the beginning.

I want to spend my life with Juliette, no matter how complicated it gets, no matter if it means I’ll need to travel to a south American jungle in the off-season to do it. My nerves jump because I’m asking her to compromise on her career and stay with me for the season, and she’s not the kind of woman to make compromises.

Sucking in a deep breath, my heart hammering out of control, I push through the door of The Tea Party and find her in the same spot at the bar as we sat that first night. She has two shot glasses and a bottle of Glenlivet in front of her.

“You planning to get me drunk, Sullivan?” I wrap my arms around her and cover her mouth before she can answer me with a deep possessive kiss. The unapologetic moan from deep in her throat fires me up like a lightning bolt.

“You might need a drink when I tell you my news,” I say, “but you tell me yours first.” Her grin matches mine, and I pick up my shot glass, and we click the glasses and throw back the whiskey. It’s smoother than the last time I had a shot of whiskey, which was too long ago to count, when I was too young to know better and drank whatever shit I could find.

“Ruminski lined me up an assignment, and it’s a juicy one,” she says, pausing and looking nervous, “but it’s not a foreign project.” She smiles, and I’m waiting for the catch.

“Where is it?”

“Cambridge.”

“Cambridge? England?”

“No, you twit. Across the river from Boston. I might have to travel some, but it’s a documentary about the public policy office and their work with shaping policy on cutting edge research in AI, Quantum physics, space and—”

I throw up my hands. “I get it.” I take her face in my hands and brush my lips over hers. I’m shaking and unsure because she is too. “I thought you were going away. You seemed so unsure, so worried.”

“I was. I am. Not sure about a damn thing, Jason.” She stares into my eyes. “I don’t know if this is right, if you’re ready. You’re so young, and I feel so old.”

“Look at me,” I say, taking her chin in one hand and holding her close with the other. My heart thunders against my chest like the end of the world is at stake.

“I’m not too young to know what I want, that I’m ready for you in my life for however long you’ll have me.”

Her face clears, and I kiss her as if it’s the first time, as if she’s fragile because, in a way, she is.

“We’ll take this leap together, babe. What could go wrong?”

She rolls her eyes. “Only my entire career. What if I can’t stand doing an academic documentary? No matter how important the subject matter, it’s not what I’m used to, not what my career was supposed to be about. It’s such a sharp detour that I don’t know where I’m going anymore.”

“Then why did you take the job?” I whisper the words, holding my breath. She stares at me for a few beats, and I think I’ll turn blue waiting for her answer.

“Because of you, not just because it might be fun to be around you for a while longer, but because you showed me another side of life, proved how even non-tragic lives, led with purpose and hard work and dignity, can be heroic, that facing reality and dealing with whatever issues face you exact the same tolls from people no matter where they live.”

I shake my head. “And what does all that have to do with public policy and quantum physics?” I grin.

She slaps my arm. “You shithead.”

I grimace. “I’m getting that a lot lately.”

“So, tell me your news before I humiliate myself further.” She’s holding onto me as if I’m going to run.

I slide onto the bar stool and hold her between my legs. “You have no idea how happy I am that you chose to take the job in Cambridge. I wanted you to stay so bad, but I would never have asked you to do anything to compromise your career. And I mean it.”

“How old did you say you are?” She squints at me, and I laugh. “Because those are wise-old-man words I’m hearing coming from that kissable mouth of yours.” She leans in and kisses me, sighs into my mouth as I capture her lips and pull her close enough to me so that she knows how excited I am. Nothing new there, but still reassuring.

“Want to hear my news?”

She arches an eyebrow. “Want me to guess?”