Page 118 of Slapshot Bride

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The rest of the week went by in a blur. No games. Practice comes and goes, and I get Riley all to myself on the days I can before the season gets tougher.

She’s finally making moves to reconcile with her friends. And sets up a meeting with Rachel.

“I’m going to see Rachel!” she announces, barreling into the kitchen with her phone raised high and a huge smile on her face.

I chuckle and pour her coffee. She hops on the stool beside mine.

“A little coffee date next weekend. Downtown.”

“That’s lovely.”

“I know, right?”

I give her a side eye.

“Ain’t you forgetting something, little lady?”

Her brows crinkle.

“You owe me. I told you to reach out.” I wiggle my brows, and she laughs.

She turns to face me fully, her body now in my view.

“Payment in kind, but on the condition you’ll be my chauffeur?”

I place my palm flat on my chest in a pledge.

“Always, my lady. And I’ll be catching that cheque, later,” I wink.

The weekend arrives quickly, much to Riley’s excitement. Her date is for four in the afternoon, and I drive her. Golden Hour Cafe is quiet with only a few customers when we walk in.

Riley spots her friend right at the door, and in a minute, she’s gone, beside the table by the window where two women in their mid-twenties are seated.

Rachel, the blonde, from Riley’s descriptions over the week, and the other is Madison, another mutual friend of theirs who was in town, and opted to join them, after Rachel informed Riley of her presence.

I stay by the door for a minute just to watch the sheer joy on their faces, and their little reunion and chirpy voices have eyes turning their way. Eventually, they calm down enough to take their seats. Riley waves me over, and I approach.

“Hello, ladies.”

“Ohhh… sounds better than I ever daydreamed,” Madison moons, palm to her chest, and they laugh again.

“I like this one,” Rachel chimes in, and we all laugh.

“I’ll leave you ladies to enjoy your date.” I lean down to quickly kiss Riley on the lips. “Text me when you’re done, baby.”

I stroll to a vacant table and take a seat, just across from them. Close enough to have her in my sight, and also far enough for her to be comfortable with her friends.

Minutes later, they get their orders from the barista. Two iced vanilla lattes, one matcha latte with oat milk, and almond croissants. I get a protein smoothie while I wait for my woman.

I’m mildly out of my depth for most of the afternoon. I occasionally watch her whenever I raise my head from scrolling through sports headlines on my phone.

She’s different with them. Louder. Carefree.

Preston spent six years making her smaller. These two women have known her since before that, and in their presence, she’s just Riley. The version of herself she’s been slowly reconstructing.

I get up at one point to get more protein smoothie. Her eyes catch mine, and they’re apologetic, but I wave it off.