Sinead disappeared into the kitchen with the garment bag. Lennie pulled the check out of her shoulder bag, staring at it again. It was too bad she needed the money; otherwise, she would have framed it.
“You
were great out there tonight.”
Sebastian turned to Jason Mitchell, who was sitting next to him on the plane. They were on their way back from a game in Miami, where they’d played well. Sebastian had scored the game winner in a shoot-out.
“Thank you.”
“So why do you look like you’re on your way to your best friend’s funeral?”
“I finally told Lennie about my contract,” Sebastian revealed forlornly. “She did not take it well.”
Jason patted his shoulder. “Sorry, dude.”
“Maybe it’s for the better. I don’t know.”
Jason nodded and opened the
New York Post,
perhaps sensing that Sebastian didn’t want to go into detail about what had transpired. Sebastian kept running the scene in his head, contrasting how he had thought their conversation might go with what had actually happened.
He’d imagined Lennie being upset at first, but had assumed they would talk it through, deciding at the very least that they could still be friends if she chose not to continue a romantic relationship with him. Actually, what he’d really been hoping was for her to say, “I don’t care if your contract is only for a year; you’re the only one I want to be with. I love you, and whatever happens, happens. There’s no reason we can’t have a long-distance relationship if you have to move away.”
The vehemence of her reaction had shocked him, as had her reaction to his telling her he loved her. He could see now how badly he’d miscalculated, how stupid he’d been in his assumptions. He’d been right about one thing: she did deserve better. He tried to focus on the only two positives that had come from what had transpired: one, she could now concentrate on her schoolwork; and two, he could dedicate himself fully to his game, ensuring that whatever happened next year, he’d be richer—i f not emotionally, then at least financially.
Twelve
“How long are you going to avoid him?”
Lennie knew Christie had been itching to ask her for hours. She was hanging out at Christie’s apartment, giving her advice on what to wear on her first date with a hottie she’d met at the bar. Three months had passed, and ever since she’d split from Sebastian, she’d been careful to stop by the Wild Hart only during the day, when she knew he and his teammates wouldn’t be there. Of course, that didn’t mean she didn’t know what was going on with him: she read the sports pages religiously. In fact, whenever she came into the pub, Christie made a point of handing her a paper already open to the day’s story on the Blades.
Not only that, but Aunt Mary always told her when the Blades were at the pub, adding, with a significant wiggle of the eyebrows, that Sebastian asked after her. The irony wasn’t lost on Lennie; wasn’t this the same Aunt Mary who had told her she should focus on school her very first day in the city and who had called Sebastian a “Commie”?
The truth was, she missed Sebastian. Badly. Not just their “savoring,” but talking to him, laughing with him, experiencing the city together. She often sat daydreaming about him while at the sewing machine, picturing them doing this and that. Then some other thought would come darting into view and she’d snap out of it, overcome with an emptiness for which she herself was to blame. Lennie knew that if she asked him to, he would meet and talk with her, but she was held back by a huge fear of rejection. Maybe he’d decided he didn’t love her after all. What if his excelling on the ice these past few weeks had to do with her not distracting him in some way?
She looked at the various articles of clothing laid out on Christie’s bed. “Hmm.” She pointed to a pair of jeans made by People’s Liberation. Lennie liked their stuff; it was expensive, but sexy. “Those are good.”
“You didn’t respond to what I said. Admit it: you’ve been avoiding him.”
“Obviously.”
“He asks about you. I’ve told you that tons of times. He misses you.”
Lennie felt a lump form in her throat. “I miss him too. But it’s better this way.”
Christie rolled her eyes. “Martyrdom doesn’t suit you. Seriously. Talk to him.”
“And say what?”
“That you miss him. That maybe you two could—”
“He might be gone in May.”
“And you might get hit by a dump truck tomorrow,” Christie shot back sharply. “At the very least, don’t you miss his friendship?”
Lennie hesitated. “Yes. But I don’t think I could be around him and just be friends.”
“Because—?” Christie pushed.
“You know,” Lennie mumbled.
“God, you’re pitiful.”
“Because I love him, okay?” Lennie burst out, her eyes filling with tears.
“Then do something about it. Life is risky, okay? Maybe tomorrow I’ll get called out to a fire and lose my life. But I’m willing to take that risk, because it’s worth it to me. You have to live in the here and now, Lennie. If you want him back, tell him.”
“What if he doesn’t want me back?”
“Then at least you’ll know. Now which shirt should I wear with the jeans?”
Two
nights later, Lennie screwed up her courage and walked into the Wild Hart. She’d deliberately chosen the night Aunt Mary would be at bingo with Mrs. O’Brien, knowing her aunt might make a big deal if she saw her and Sebastian together—assuming Seb would even talk to her, of course. Her gaze shot to Christie, who gave her a small smile and a discreet thumbs-up. Then, as casually as she could, she glanced toward the dining room. Sebastian was there with his teammates, his back toward her, thank God.
Lennie went to the bar. “I think I need a drink to fortify myself.”
“What can I get you, girlfriend?”
“Sam Adams.” The same thing she’d had the night she’d met Sebastian.
Mr. O’Brien was working behind the bar with Christie. Obviously his brother, Jimmy, had back problems again.
“Lennie,” said Mr. O’Brien warmly, “we haven’t seen you here in a while.”
“I’ve been really busy with school.”
“That clothing you made for my daughter Sinead? Very impressive.”
Lennie was slightly taken aback. “She showed them to you?”
“Yes, the very day she got them. Lovely, just lovely. Tried them on for her mother and me. They suit her right down to the ground.”
“Thank you.”
“Perhaps I’ll have you make a suit for me. My missus is always complaining because I’ve been wearing the same one since 1979.”
Lennie laughed. “I would love to.”
“Let’s talk about it come summer, then.”
“Deal.” The thought of again being commissioned to design clothing and get paid for it? Heaven.
Christie handed her a Sam Adams. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
Lennie took a sip of beer, again glancing discreetly at the Blades’ table.
“Get your butt over there,” Christie commanded.
“In a minute.” Lennie took a deep breath as nerves played up and down her spine.
Here and now
, she told herself.
That’s all that matters
. She took another sip of beer, and began walking toward the Blades’ table. She watched as one of Sebastian’s teammates lightly elbowed him and Jason Mitchell leaned over to say something in his ear. Sebastian turned in his seat, watching her approach, his expression guarded. She wasn’t surprised.
“Hey.” Despite having sipped at her beer, her throat felt dry and clogged.
“Hey,” Sebastian returned, standing up. “Sam Adams,” he noted, picking his own bottle off the table.
“Great minds think alike,” said Lennie. God, that was lame.
“Yes.”
Lennie stuck her free hand into the back pocket of her jeans. “Um . . . I was wondering if we could talk?”
“Sure.” Sebastian looked around the crowded dining room. “We could talk in the bar.”
“All right.”
Always the gentleman, he gestured for her to go ahead of him. She could feel his eyes on her back. Now it wasn’t nerves that were playing up and down her spine; it was the beginning of desire.
The only table available was the one they’d sat at the night they’d met. “You know what? I don’t think this is a good place to sit and talk.”
Lennie’s heart sank a little.
“Too noisy. Not private enough.”
Relief swept through her.
“If you are comfortable with it, we could go talk at my apartment.”
Lennie cleared her throat. “That would be fine.”
Sebastian nodded. “Just let me tell my friends I am leaving. Then we can catch a cab.”
“Gotcha.”
Lennie’s eyes shot to Christie, who lifted an eyebrow. “Well?” she mouthed.
Lennie smiled and crossed her fingers.
Thirteen
Lennie was relieved when she and Sebastian finally arrived at his apartment. They had been slightly awkward with each other during their cab ride, both striving to keep their conversation light and casual, both knowing that the talk they’d be having when they got to Sebastian’s would be anything but.
“Coffee?” Sebastian offered.
“Brewed in your deluxe Krups coffeemaker?” Lennie teased.
Sebastian smiled faintly. “Yes, of course.”
“Yes, please. A cup of coffee would be nice.”
Lennie followed him into the kitchen. She was less interested in coffee than in having some kind of prop in her hand when she told him how she felt. The temptation to immediately spill her guts was overwhelming, but she controlled herself. She wanted to sound calm and thoughtful, not emotional and crazy.
“How’s your uncle?”
“Well.” Sebastian paused. “He asks about you.”
Lennie sat at the small kitchen table, chin resting in her palm as she watched him. “What did you tell him?”
“That you’re studying very hard in school.”
“Does he know we—?”
Sebastian was all concentration as he measured out the coffee. “Yes.”
What does he think?
Lennie longed to ask.
Does he think you were a jerk not to tell me the truth at the beginning? Did you depict me as a lunatic when you told him about our breakup?
“Give him my regards.”
“I will.”
Uneasy silence. Lennie rushed to fill the vacuum. “I’ve been following the Blades. You guys are doing great.”
“We are,” Sebastian agreed carefully as he glanced at her, “but we don’t want to get too cocky. It’s bad to make assumptions.” There was a pregnant pause before his gaze returned to the task at hand. “That’s something I’ve learned the hard way.”
Lennie felt a surge of hope, but remained determined to not start talking until they were comfortable in the living room. “Do you mind if I go sit on the couch? I’m kind of tired.”
“Of course, sit on the couch. I’ll bring our coffee in a moment.”
Lennie nodded, and headed to the living room.
It’s bad to make assumptions. That’s something I’ve learned the hard way.
Was he talking about hockey or her? Or both?
She glanced around the familiar room, looking to see if anything had changed since she’d last been there. Nothing had; it was still stark, the apartment of a man for whom decoration was a low priority. Or maybe a man who didn’t want to assume he’d be staying beyond a year.
“Here we are.” Sebastian joined her on the couch, two steaming mugs of coffee in hand, a prop for each of them.
Lennie marshaled her courage and took a huge gulp of coffee, which was a mistake; it burned her mouth and throat. She bit down on her lip to keep herself from yelping, but it was no good; Sebastian caught the split second of pain that flashed across her face.
“Are you all right?” he asked, concerned.
“I gulped down a little too much coffee, is all.”
“There’s no need to be nervous. It’s just me.”
“That’s why I’m nervous!”
He reached out to put a reassuring hand on her knee. “Take your time.”
Pure Sebastian: always so considerate, always so patient.
Lennie wrapped her hands tightly around her coffee mug. “I’ve been thinking a lot about how I acted the day we broke up.”
“Yes?”
Lennie blushed. “I’m pretty sure I acted like a melodramatic jackass.”
“Like a crazy woman.”
“Okay, you don’t have to rub it in.” She cocked her head and closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead. “I wasn’t really thinking. Just—reacting.”