As the three of them are deep in conversation, my mother enthralled with Ryan’s life here in Chicago, I pull out my phone, thinking maybe I should send Zanders a message on Instagram to thank him for my new loungewear.
And I kind of want an excuse to talk to him, too.
You’d think something as simple as sweatpants wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but just that small piece of being comfortable during this uncomfortable family dinner means a lot. Plus, Zanders made my gift entirely about me, besides the price tag that is very Evan Zanders. Vastly different than the pair of nude pumps my mother gave me.
I don’t have his number, and he doesn’t have mine, but access to his DMs is enough to connect to the famous hockey player.
I figured his Instagram would be showing off his extravagant Christmas, but there’s nothing on display. Over the last six weeks, since I started following the Chicago defenseman, he almost always has something posted to entertain his fans. He’s rarely quiet, so this is strange.
“You done, Vee?” Ryan stands over me, his hand on my plate, ready to clean up the table.
“Uh, yeah.”
“You didn’t eat anything.”
“Not hungry,” I lie.
He bends down, looking over my shoulder at my phone. “Is that Evan Zanders’ Instagram?”
Fuck.
“Nope.” Exiting out of the app, I hide my phone in my lap.
“I can’t stand that guy.” Ryan continues to the kitchen, hands full of dishes. “He gives a bad name to Chicago sports.”
“Have you ever even talked to him?” My tone has too much of a bite as it comes out of my mouth, and Ryan catches on right away.
“I don’t need to. He gets plenty of coverage in the media. I know exactly the kind of guy he is.”
“Well,” my dad interrupts, wearing a sly grin. “Vee actually knows the guy. So, why don’t we ask her? What do you think about him, Stevie?”
All eyes turn towards me, and suddenly I feel like my family can read every inappropriate thought I’ve ever had of Zanders. Too many vivid details from that wild night in DC flood my mind, causing heat to creep up my cheeks.
“He’s fine.”
“Fine, huh?” One too many brow pumps come from the old guy at the table.
“Thank you for that, Dad, but can you not?” Turning back to my brother, I add, “He’s not as bad as you think. The media doesn’t do a very good job at portraying him, but there’s more to him than just the bad boy stuff.”
Ryan’s eyes are lasered in on me, doing that twin thing where he tries to read my mind.
“Or so it seems.” I casually shrug, keeping my head down as I scurry to the couch, needing to avoid my brother’s stare and his mind tricks.
“Brett’s coming to town,” are the words Ryan uses to change the subject.
Well, thank God I didn’t eat because it’d be coming back up right about now.
“Oh, is he?” my mother bursts. “Stevie, did you hear that?”
“Heard it.”
“That’s so exciting. I love Brett. What’s he doing here?”
“There’s a charity gala coming up, and all the major sports teams in the city will be there. He needs to network, so hopefully, I can introduce him to some people I know. Get him a job here.”
“Here?” Quickly turning around, my eyes widen with bewilderment.
“Yeah, here. I told you about him coming a few weeks ago.”
“I know, but I didn’t think that meant he would be trying to work here. Live here.”
“I think it’s great,” my mom interrupts. “Brett is such a handsome boy. Stevie, you should be grateful he’s coming to town. Maybe he will give you another chance.”
What the hell? “I don’t want another chance!”
Oh shit. Don’t ruin Christmas. Don’t ruin Christmas.
“Vee, you don’t need to give him another chance if you don’t want to,” my sweet dad adds.
My mother, on the other hand? Mortified that a woman would be so loud.
“What went down between you two?” my brother asks.
My eyes ping-pong between all three of my family members, not wanting to spill the details and embarrassment of how I realized I was being used for three years by my ex-boyfriend.
I love my brother, but some things are better left unsaid. Me sleeping with the most notorious playboy in the city, for one. The other is that his friend is a piece of shit and made me feel like an unworthy option for years. But he doesn’t even see that our mom makes me feel like garbage, let alone his former college teammate, so what’s the use in elaborating?