Page 40 of Slap Shot
“A compliment is still nice to hear. Thank you for the flattery, Madeline.”
“You’re welcome,” she answers, and her cheeks are a little pink. “I’m not totally familiar with the athlete lifestyle. From what I’ve read online, it can be… how do I put this delicately? Um. Raunchy?”
“What?”
“I’m grateful for the hospitality, but I think it would be inappropriate for my six-year-old to see things she shouldn’t be seeing. Like… women sneaking in and out at odd hours of the day, bras on lamps and underwear on the kitchen counter…” Madeline swallows. Her face is bright red now. “Those kinds of things.”
I make a show of glancing around. “I don’t see any of that here. Do you?”
“No. Not… not currently. I don’t want to assume anything, but I figured it would be best to set those expectations now.”
“Fair enough.” I lean back and rest my ankle on my thigh. “I’ve never been the guy who likes random hookups. I’ve never had a one-night stand, and I don’t sleep with a woman unless she means something to me.”
“Never?”
“Never. I like relationships. Meaningful conversations. Getting to know a person before I take off their clothes. I swear that’s not a line I’m using,” I add, and it’s my turn to blush. I didn’t expect to be having this conversation in my kitchen.
“Why?”
“Blame my parents.” I rub my thumb over my bottom lip and laugh. “My dad met my mom when they were seventeen, and he was a goner from the moment he laid eyes on her. She wanted the chase, though, because she knew he was going to be it for her, too. But she was adamant he work for it, so they didn’t date until they were nineteen. They got married that same year and never looked back.”
“So, you’re a romantic.”
“Are you not?”
“No.” Madeline shakes her head. “Not at all. I think it’s all kind of bullshit. Nothing lasts forever.”
“Ah. That’s a bummer. I guess I am a romantic. I believe in soulmates and happily ever afters. One person for you kind of thing. I’ve always cared more about emotional attraction than physical attraction. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t like sex. I do. I just enjoy it more when it’s with someone I care about. Which does not include someone I meet at the bar one night and immediately bring home. That’s how some of my teammates act, but not me. It’s not my style, and never has been. I promise therewon’t be any bras or underwear around here. You won’t see random women sneaking in and out.” I give her a salute. “What else do you have for me?”
“That was it, honestly. What you do behind your closed door is up to you; I was only worried about what Lucy might see.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“You don’t have to dothat. You can be on your worst behavior if you want to be.”
“Nah. This is more fun.” I laugh, and it’s cute how flustered she is. “You sure there’s nothing else?”
“I guess… communication?” Madeline says it like a question. “If Lucy and I are in the way or you want some space, please let me know.”
“I get plenty of space on the road. Trust me when I say it’s isolating as hell. It’ll be nice to bring the dogs home and have someone here. But, I agree. If there’s something we need to talk about, we talk about it before it becomes a problem. No avoiding the issue in hopes it goes away.”
“I think this roommate thing is going to work out just fine.” She smiles at me, and I savor the damn thing. It feels like a perfect summer day. Sun on your face and wind in your hair. “Now that we’ve gotten the awkward conversations out of the way, want to talk about food?”
“You’re speaking my language, Galloway,” I say, and she laughs as she opens her planner.
She runs through the list of meals she has planned and I nod enthusiastically. We brainstorm an eating schedule that works around morning skates and game nights and talk about the habits I want to create when it comes to nutrition.
When Madeline stands and says she’s going to grab Lucy from school, hours have passed, and I can’t help but think about how today is the best day I’ve had in a long, long time.
TWELVE
MADELINE
I barely seeHudson my first week and a half in the apartment.
We pass each other in the hall with a hello and a wave before he heads to practice or I rush out the door to drop Lucy off at the bus stop. He leaves for two, three days at a time, getting back late after I’ve gone to bed.
I make his meals for him and put them in the refrigerator, cooked and ready and only needing a quick reheat before they can be enjoyed. Sometimes I’ll write instructions on a sticky note and leave it on the aluminum foil so he’s not confused.
