“Yes. I just got them and reviewed them and didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to tell you,” he says and before I can ask he continues. “It’s benign, exactly like I’d guessed. It should still come out as soon as the playoffs end, but I see no problem with you continuing until that point and I’ve sent that recommendation and the results to your team doctor to share with your coach and management.”
“Holy fuck, thank god,” I blurt out.
“It’s not? It’s not?!” Tenley whispers. I smile and the room erupts in cheers as my little family starts hugging each other and high-fiving over the table.
“Sorry for the language, Doc.”
“I’ve heard worse,” he chuckles. “I’m a Barons fan through-and-through but since they didn’t make it this year, best of luck Nash. I expect to hear from you the day after your last game to schedule surgery.”
“You’ll be my first call the day after I win the Cup,” I promise and thank him again before hanging up.
My mom hugs me and then my dad. Crew says, "Cool bro. I knew it was nothing." And tries to fist-bump me, which makes me roll my eyes.
Liv gives me a quick hug and then as soon as she steps away Tenley launches herself at me, clinging to me with her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist like a koala bear high on eucalyptus. I hold her tight. “You’re stuck with me now.”
“Oh no. Whatever shall I do,” she murmurs in my ear. “I guess I’ll just have to give in to all these warm fuzzy feelings I have for you that feel a hell of a lot like love.”
I kiss her quickly. “I dare you.”
Chapter 28
Tenley
“I can’t look.”
“Killer, we’re filming. We want you to look,” Fisher scolds me.
I keep my hands over my eyes and turn away from the ice. "A good documentary director doesn't lead scenes or coach subjects. Do better."
He looks genuinely annoyed with me but I don’t care. He’s been trying to make this series I created trashy since he got his hands on it. I finally, a couple of weeks ago, had another meeting with the network, and this time I brought an entertainment lawyer. Patrice Brophy wasn’t expecting that and by the end of the terse, uncomfortable meeting, I had creative control and was allowed to direct all remaining footage that I wasn’t featured in.
“Oh my god! No!” Liv screams beside me.
And my fingers snap together, blocking out any holes, and I turn toward the back of the roaring arena again. There's a huge collective sigh of relief that I swear shakes the concrete walls. That means that the Quake are still ahead. In game seven of the Stanley Cup final against the Toronto Ice Dogs. I am shaking with anticipation. The last time I dared watch the game there was three minutes left. The score was… is 2-1 and the Ice Dogs pulled their goalie, which is why I can't watch. I swear a three-minute, do-or-die, six-on-five with my husband on the ice could actually kill me.
“Yes! No! Yes. Fuck yes!” Avery yells beside me and now I have to look because Nash’s dad doesn’t do public swearing.
I peek through the gap between my fingers and glance over my shoulder. Nash has the puck. There are forty-two seconds on the clock and he and Crew are skating down toward the Ice Dog's empty net on complete opposite sides of the ice. No less than four Ice Dogs are hot on their heels. Suddenly, just over the blue line, Nash is surrounded but he manages to haul off and slap the puck with his stick. At first, it seems like a horrible play. He's shot it into the boards, but it ricochets back toward the center of the ice. It still looks like a horrible play, like he just gave it away, because it's careening toward the net at an angle that will most definitely hit the bar, not the back of the net. But Crew kept skating and before an Ice Dog can react he's flying around the back of the net, coming up just in front of the puck, just in time to have it glance off his stick, and redirect it into the center of the empty net.
The goal light illuminates. The arena erupts and I’m screaming and hugging every person I can find. They did it! The Los Angeles Quake are back-to-back Stanley Cup champions. Just before tears spill down my face I see my dad and Nash’s dad hug, wiping away their own tears over each other’s shoulders. On the ice the buzzer sounds and the entire Quake organization floods the ice in celebration. Liv grabs me.
“I love hockey!” she yells, which is hilarious because she avoided it like the plague until she started dating Crew.
It takes almost an hour but eventually the handshakes and trophy presentation and the passing around of the trophy and the on-ice interviews are done and we’re let onto the ice too. I beeline straight for Nash, stopping only to high-five my brother as I pass. Nash is grinning and he lifts me right off the ice when I wrap my arms around his shoulders, which is a near impossible task with all the equipment.
“Can you believe it?” he asks in wonder as he drops me carefully back onto the ice.
“Of course I can,” I say. “You can thank me later.”
He laughs. “For what?”
“What did I say to you when you left the loft this afternoon?” I put my hands on my hips and wait impatiently.
His grin turns cheeky and he leans a little closer. “That was the best orgasm yet.”
I shake my head and fight a blush because yeah, I did say that after our pregame sex which included some toy play. “After that.”
“I dare you to win another Cup,” he says and I grin.
