Page 21 of Elite Player
Yesterday morning, when my family reappeared at the hospital, I came up with a story about how it was sort of a whirlwind romance between the two of us. They don’t know anything about hockey, so I didn’t have to explain away how he’s onlybeen living in Philadelphia since this past March, traded right before the deadline.
Six months—that’s all the time we’ve had in this fictional relationship.
But Nico did say he loves the fated mates trope. Maybe we imprinted on each other or something. That would be the only reason for him to want to be with me.
“So, how are you?” Mom asks. “Where’s your man?”
“At practice, and I’m fine.”
“No headaches?”
“Nope.” There’s been a dull ache in my head since leaving the hospital, but I lie to keep her happy.
“I’m glad, but I do wish you weren’t up there by yourself.”
“I’m not by myself.”
“Right. You have Nico.” She makes a sound that’s a mix of joy and wonder.
None of them can believe it.
“Although after meeting him, now I understand why you aren’t calling me more often. He is quite the guy.”
“He is.”
She rambles on, listing all the things she loves about him: he’s gorgeous, a gentleman, takes his hat off inside, sweet to Mamaw, and the icing on the cake, “He must be rich if he’s a professional athlete!”
I ignore that because while I don’t know what his salary is, it’s certainly 1,000% more than mine, and that’s without what I can assume he inherited from his parents. But that’s none of my or my mother’s business.
“When should we start planning the wedding?” Mom asks. “You’re going to have it here, right? With Reverend Parsons?”
“We haven’t even talked about it.”
“Well, what is there to talk about? You have to get married in the church.”
My mother volunteers quite often at the Methodist church I grew up in, and she helps run the women’s prayer group.Lizzie used to run the youth group with Waylon. I should’ve known back then what was going on between the two of them. Always together and planning outings to spread the Word of the Lord.
Yeah. They were speaking in tongues, all right.
I blink away the image of my sister in Waylon’s lap, his hands in her hair, his face buried in her neck, the moans she made.
Instead, I focus on the present, on throwing my mother off the trail. “Nico has his whole season to get through, and we’ll talk about it after.”
“But we can start planning. Meeting his family. Oh my god, can you just imagine spending time with Paulina Luciano?’
“Yeah… Don’t you have any appointments today?” I ask, trying to scoot her off the phone, but she informs me her schedule is clear this morning, so I go for the tried and true method.
“Well, I’ve got to go. Sean’s calling.”
“Oh, all right. You make sure to talk to me tomorrow. Let me know how you’re doing, and say hi to Nico for me.”
“Mm-hmm. Sure. Okay. Bye.”
“Bye, Buck!”
I won’t be talking to her tomorrow, not if I can help it, and I toss my phone on my bed. While Sean is a demanding boss in terms of the quality of work, he has never been a bad boss, but I let my mother think he is, using him as an excuse.
Though I guess I should’ve learned my lesson. My little lies can lead to much bigger ones.
