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She walks over and places a comforting hand on my shoulder.
“You’re the event planner right?” she says in a gentle, hushed tone. “Maya?”
“Mia.” I wipe my eyes in my arm and force yet another smile. My makeup is probably ruined, but she doesn’t mention it. “My name is Mia.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she smiles warmly. “Is everything okay? You’ve been crying for a few minutes now. We were all worried.”
I swallow my tears and try to breathe through my congested nose. Sarah sounds much gentler than I imagined. My lonely side can’t resist the urge to open up, but I can’t tell her the truth.
Women gossip, and word would soon reach the players, including Ethan.
I can’t have him find out that way.
“It’s nothing,” I dismiss her with a wave of my hand. “I’m just overworked and feeling a bit lonely. I left everything I know in Detroit to come on this trip.”
“Well, we can solve the loneliness,” Sarah offers, extending her hand. “Come join us. There’s always room for one more.”
Feeling a surge of gratitude, I take my drink with one hand, and Sarah’s hand with the other.
However, my stomach sinks when we reach the table and Sarah offers me a seat. These women all are smiles, but beneath their designer clothes and purses, I sense they are judging me.
“Okay ladies, our friend Mia here is overworked and lonely. What can we do about it?” Sarah says, raising my hand high.
“Let’s take her shopping!” suggests a gorgeous brunette.
I smile apologetically. “I’m sorry, I have work in the afternoon.”
“That’s why you’re overworked,” an older, still gorgeous woman, says. “C’mon, let’s show you around Miami’s hot spots.”
I’m impressed at how beautiful all these women are, even the older ones. Hockey players seem to have good taste, and I feel proud of myself for being, at least temporarily, among them.
Chapter Twenty
ETHAN
We’re practicing passes in twos. Raphael and I have partnered up.
The puck glides over the ice, our skates whispering along with the occasional clash of sticks. There’s banter and shouts, but between Raphael and me it’s quiet as we concentrate on the task at hand.
Breaking the silence, Raphael asks casually, “How’s your girl doing, man?”
Startled, I jolt my head up, missing the pass and having to chase after the puck. “She’s alright, getting along with the other ladies…” I respond, tossing the puck back with speed.
“Sarah mentioned she was upset yesterday,” Raphael continues, effortlessly catching and returning the pass. “The girls took her out. I’ve never seen them so interested in anyone, Matthews.”
I smile but lower my head, contemplating how Mia has been acting strange lately.
Does she regret telling Ryan? And what did he say to her? When I called Mia yesterday, she said it went better than expected and promised to share more details in person.
Now I’m wondering if Ryan made this difficult. I haven’t talked to him yet, wanting to talk to Mia more about it first.
My anger against Ryan grows, and amid my frustration, I accidentally send the puck soaring towards Raphael’s midsection.
“Watch it, man!” he exclaims, clutching his side.
“Sorry,” I say, laughing nervously. “Need a band-aid for your boo-boo?”
All I get is a curse in response.
