Page 167 of Only Ever You
“I’m talking about the NHL, the NBA, and the NFL,” I tell him with a lift of my shoulder. “I don’t usually stay long. These events aren’t my scene.”
He leans forward and sets his elbows on the table. “C’mon. You’ll stay longer for your charming best friend, right? I could use your company.”
I snort. “You haven’t changed at all either.”
Kicking back again, he laces his fingers behind his head and surveys our surroundings. This café is a short walk from my place and only a block from Central Park. That’s why I suggested it when he invited me for breakfast. Today’s going to be a long day, and the last thing I want is to run around the city like my ass is on fire.
“You didn’t actually answer my question. Will you stay with me, yes or no?”
I inhale deeply. “We’ll see.”
It’s hard to explain, and if I did, he’d probably call me an idiot. So, I’d prefer to deal with the consequences later, just like I’m going to deal with the consequences of this night out. But I didn’t have much of a choice unless I wanted to find myself on the Phantoms’ GM’s bad side.
“I don’t like it when you’re so mysterious. Creeps me out.” Lips pursed, he pushes himself away from the table. “You better not pull any stupid shit at this event.”
“I won’t.” I hope.
He huffs. “That wasn’t even a little convincing.”
Without a word, I pick up my cup and take a sip. Anything to keep him from drilling me for an answer.
My place on the Upper West Side may be expensive, but it’s close to the rink and quiet, with thick walls and doormen who nod and don’t ask questions. To top it all off, my neighbors all keep to themselves.
The apartment is spacious, with floor-to-ceiling windows in neutral colors—a mix of gray, blue, and white. It’s not flashy at all. It’s my home. My fortress. No one except my family and Ash have been here, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. At least for now.
I easily could’ve purchased a penthouse on the Upper East Side, but the slower pace over here, the anonymity, called to me. I can breathe here. Focus. When I shut the door, the noise stays outside, and for me, that’s worth every penny.
Sleep Token’s “Fall For Me” plays as I step closer to the full-length mirror in the corner of my bedroom and look myself over.
Cora was right. The tailored suit looks good. I skipped the tie because it often feels like a noose. Focusing on my reflection, I adjust the cufflinks and then fix my nose ring. The tattoos on my hand and neck are visible, but they look good with the black jacket and crisp white shirt.
I wouldn’t tell Pablo this, but his suggestion I hire a personal stylist was a good one. I was very opposed at first, but he convinced me I’d need one for public outings and game days. Cora is respectful and very understanding, and she always listens to me. In the two years we’ve worked together, I don’t think I’ve rejected a single outfit she’s prepared.
And now, I’m staring at the reflection of a man I didn’t know how to be two and a half years ago.
When my phone buzzes on the nightstand, I stride over to it.
Mom. No surprise there. Anytime I have something important—a game, an event, or a photo shoot—she calls to check on me.
After I swipe the screen to accept the call, I press my phone to my ear. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, sweetheart. Are you still at home, or are you already on your way?”
“Still home, but I’m leaving soon.” I pull at the neckline of my shirt. Despite the lack of a tie, it’s still hard to breathe. “Don’t want to be late.”
“Ah, so I’m right on time,” she says with more cheer than usual.
I frown. “Is everything okay?”
She snorts. “Of course! I wanted to check in, see how you are.”
Yeah, not suspicious at all.
Holding back a sardonic laugh, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m good, really. You don’t need to worry about me. All these events are the same. I know what to do, when to do it, and what to say.”
“If you say so…” She trails off, then clears her throat. “You’re still planning to come in two weeks, right?”
“Why are you being so weird?” I ask her. “I never miss your birthday, so why would I now? What’s going on?”
