I leaned even closer. “Be honest. You would hate it if I did.”
She didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to.
The smile that played at the corner of her dusty-rose lips told me I was right.
Precious Little Rituals
Maven
Present Me never been so thankful to Past Me than I was the afternoon of the Boston game when I rolled out my yoga mat.
Past me had wondered if it would be necessary to pack, if the staff would be annoyed that I brought it, if I’d even have time to use it. But present me was sighing with relief at the small bit of normalcy as I stepped onto it.
I knew it would be impossible to meditate this morning, to find any way to clear my mind, and I had been right. Everything kicked into gear quickly, and I had barely woken up before I was on the bus with the team headed to the rink for their morning skate.
So now that I had a little time alone in the afternoon, I succumbed to all my thoughts, letting them race through me as I began my practice in child’s pose. I needed to be grounded. I needed stillness.
The last week had been such a chaotic blur, I didn’t know where to start to even try to piece it all together. It was beyond me how one little gala with my best friend had turned into my entire life being uprooted. It was an exciting opportunity, but it was also draining — and I was completely out of my routine, out of my comfort zone, and more than anything, out of my usual energy level.
I was so tired, I could sleep for a year and still need more.
I decided a yin practice was what I needed, so I transitioned into a butterfly pose and settled in.
The plane ride with the team had been wild — and fun. Will Perry, or Daddy P as they called him, seemed the only one who was quiet and focused. The rest of the players let loose, singing loudly, talking, laughing, and playing cards.
I’d been a quiet observer for most of it, taking photos and videos and scratching notes down in my notepad in-between texts to Livia. She was the only person I knew I could talk to who would actually understand, given that she worked with these brutes on the daily.
I watched them with a smile on my face, marveling at how much they seemed like a family. It was like a plane full of twenty brothers, and the coaches and staff were like their cool uncles rather than their dads. At least, all of them except McCabe, who seemed to be the only one able to wrangle the boys with as little as a whistle and a stern glare.
When the guys were playing a card game in our little pod, Vince dealt me in, and though he didn’t pry, he made me a part of the conversation.
I hated how much I loved that.
I’d had my mind made up about him, and when he slung his stupid pickup lines or cocky jokes my way, it was easy to keep him in that box. He was a playboy, a cocky athlete who was used to the limelight, and even more used to always getting his way. I had no interest in him other than what he would do for my career.
I just needed him to stay there, in that box I’d placed him in, because when he asked about me, when he stood up for me to the other players when he didn’t realize I was behind him?
Things like that made the lid on the box pop open, and I didn’t like the thought of him getting out of where I’d placed him in my mind.
Throughout the day, I’d posted pictures and videos to my stories on the One Month with Vince Cool account, showing everything from the guys dressed in their travel day suits on the tarmac to them wrestling each other to the ground in the hallway of the hotel on the way to their rooms. All day long, the followers had ticked up, and any time I posted anything, it took only seconds to have thousands of likes and comments. I was also receiving direct messages with requests for what they wanted to see.
Please show us what they do after the game when they win!
OMG, please post what bar they’ll be at so I can show up and make Vince my husband.
Can you tell us what music he loves to listen to?
Can you show us pictures of him as a kid?
What does he like to do when he’s not playing hockey?
Is he DTF? If so, how do I get in on that?
How do I become his wife?
Tell Vince I said he’s a pussy.
That last one was from Jaxson Brittain, which made me laugh.
By the time my head hit the pillow last night, the account had half-a-million followers.
In one day.
That made my chest tighten with a performance anxiety I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt before. It also made me shake off my thoughts and focus on my mat. I needed to let go of all the noise. Otherwise, I’d drown in it.
I flowed through a gentle thirty-minute practice before I had to take a quick shower and get over to Vince’s room. I’d filmed a little of him at the morning skate, which was just as relaxed and fun as the plane ride had been, but then the team had retired back to the hotel to get ready for the game.
I didn’t realize that, for most of them, part of that process was taking a long nap.
So I’d retreated to my room for a little much-needed silence, and I felt a bit refreshed as I got dressed and ready for my first NHL game.
Before heading over to Vince’s room, I checked my reflection in the mirror. My outfit was much more appropriate than what I’d worn the day before. I chose a chic pair of cream slacks and a white blouse, pairing a royal blue blazer with it to match the team’s colors and to keep myself warm. My curls were bouncy and voluminous, but without the frizz I usually had in Florida. I absentmindedly wondered if women in the Northeast ever had to deal with humidity or if their hair always looked flawless. I’d also decided to wear my favorite pair of nude heels, giving myself a little height. I just prayed my feet wouldn’t be in too much pain by the end of the night.
My makeup was soft and neutral, the way I applied it when I wanted it to look like I wasn’t even wearing any at all. I used just enough concealer and foundation to smooth my skin but still let my freckles pop through, and I enhanced my brows with a little gel before running mascara over my lashes. A nude gloss finished the look, calling attention to one of my favorite assets. I loved my lips, my teeth, my smile as a whole.
When I added a delicate pair of gold ear climbers and a dainty chain necklace that hung perfectly in the V of my blouse, I called it done, and then I was out the door and on my way to Vince’s room.
Which was, conveniently, right next door.
I pulled a deep inhale through my nose, forcing a smile before I rapped my knuckles on the wood. I was about to knock again when the door flew open.
Vince was once again shirtless, and this time, he was in nothing but a pair of navy blue briefs.
It happened so fast — him slinging the door open, running a hand back through his messy hair as he yawned and held it open wide for me to come in. He was just a tired man waking up from a nap in his underwear, nothing out of the ordinary for him.
But for me, it was like seeing one of the seven wonders of the world.
Even if I was used to his ridiculous abdomen and chest — which I wasn’t, by the way — I was now face to face with his monster thighs, too. They strained against the fabric of his underwear, though not as much as another part of him, which was framed perfectly by the white stitching in the front of those blue briefs.
He was also very much at attention.
Vince didn’t seem to notice. He just held the door open wider, and then once I had my hand on it, turned to walk farther into his suite. And when he did, I gaped for another reason altogether.