“Fangirl,” Hank ribbed him back.
“Sorry, I can’t sign a Leafs jersey.” Cary shot Tyler a closed-lip grin. “She’d kill me in my sleep.”
I’ d kill you wide awake.
“He’s a keeper,” Heather said, dimples digging into her cheeks.
Cary nudged Tyler’s arm. “See? I’m a keeper.”
But she couldn’t let go of her dream of having a family. It was sweet that he’d flown to Winnipeg to see her and met her friends, but before this went any further, they needed to have a serious conversation.
“Will you sign our jerseys, please?” Heather asked politely.
“Absolutely.” Cary uncapped the marker and personalized their sweaters.
Mark poured another beer. “Do chicks ever ask you to sign their boobs, man?”
Tyler’s heart screeched to a halt. “Do they?”
She’d seen plenty of boob-signing with their legacy acts—older women spilling out of their crop tops, Sharpies all ready. But Cary’s fans weren’t like that.
Or were they?
Cary chuckled. “No, not very often, but I’ve got a one-hand rule.” The husbands leaned in, ears perked. “I never use the other hand for support.” He mimed weighing an apple in his palm, his expression deadpan.
“Awesome!” Mark said.
Marnie pushed back from the table. “I have to pee every five minutes.”
“Same,” Heather said, getting up too.
Tyler followed them toward the restroom and as the door clicked shut behind them, Marnie spun around. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
Tyler groaned and smacked her forehead. “I know, I know. He’s a musician.”
“He’s not some broke-ass guy in a punk band,” Heather piped up. “He’s Cary Kingston.”
“You’re right.” Tyler nodded at Marnie. “He’s thirty-eight and still single. I mean, he’s had tons of girlfriends, but nothing’s lasted.”
“At least he’s not thirty-eight years old and never kissed a girl.” Heather sang the Tragically Hip song poorly.
“How’s the sex?” Marnie raised an eyebrow. “You can at least tell us that.”
I wish I knew.
Tyler shrugged. “He’s been on tour, and we haven’t—”
“See?” Heather said. “He’s serious about you. Otherwise he would’ve slept with you. And he came all this way to see you, don’t forget.”
“A heads-up would’ve been nice,” Marnie added.
“Are you kidding?” Heather shot back, all sarcasm. “We got to meet Cary Kingston. In the flesh.”
Marnie rolled her eyes and looked toward the mirror, where Tyler was tightening her topknot. “Tyler?”
“He was supposed to fly into Brandon,” Tyler said. “I didn’t know he was coming here. I swear.”
Marnie frowned. “So let me get this straight—he skipped a direct flight home and now he’sdrivingto Brandon? In a blizzard?”
