The Real World Sometimes Sucks

 

Brent wakes me from a dead sleep. When I realize he’s tugging at my sleep clothes, pulling them off despite my groggy and only half-awake state, I’m surprised, but definitely all in.

But then, when he just about crushes me with his weight, I’m more like, “What the hell, Brent? I can’t breathe.”

“Sorry.” He lifts his body off me enough that I don’t suffocate under his very naked self. Not that it’d be a bad way to go. But still, Brent’s usually much more smooth and controlled than this.

He nuzzles his nose into my neck and breathes out something that sounds like an apology. And that’s when I smell alcohol.

“Are you crazy?” I push him off of me. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

He flops back on the bed. “So what if I am? I haven’t had anything remotely resembling alcohol since fucking August. And I’m not an alcoholic, Aubrey. I can go out and throw back a few once in a while.”

“Oh, that sounds like Nolan talking.”

“Funny. He said the same thing about you.”

“So he did say it was okay for you to get drunk?”

“Who cares if he did? It’s true.”

“Where’d you go?” I carefully inquire.

He looks a little shady when he replies, “There was a bar at the steak place where we ate.”

“Hmm…”

I want Brent to feel comfortable kicking back with his teammates—and I really don’t think a once-in-a-while night out with the boys will make him spiral—but I do worry if the team finds out they may panic and extend my contract, thinking they still need me. If that happens our relationship will have to continue to remain a secret, a secret that if discovered could sink us both.

I share all this with Brent, and then say, “Do you see now why I’m so upset?”

“Yeah,” he says on a sigh. “When you put it like that I do.” He pulls me to him and wraps his arms around me. “I wasn’t thinking. But I promise you I won’t go out drinking again till you’re no longer my life coach.”

“And even then, Brent, don’t let things get out of control. You may not be an alcoholic, but drinking to excess has caused you problems in the past.”

“I know, babe.” His hand slides down to my bare ass, already distracted. “I won’t.”

I may complain, but I’m just as bad as him. Dropping the conversation, I get busy Zamboni-ing his ice.

 

 

I go on the road with the team the week of Thanksgiving.

Since there’s a game the night before the actual holiday, as well as one the following Friday afternoon, I have to inform my family that I won’t be able to join them for our big holiday turkey feast this year.

Mom and Dad are disappointed, but understand that my job comes first.

“We’ll catch up with you at Christmas,” my always supportive dad says after I give him the bad news.

“Yes, definitely,” I reply, knowing I’ll be out of the contract with the Wolves by then.

I start imagining holidays spent with Brent—putting up a tree, drinking eggnog, and exchanging special gifts, all as an official couple.

I hear my mom sigh and realize Dad has his phone on speaker. “Honey,” my mother starts out of the blue.

“Yes, Mom?”

”Please promise me you’ll be sure to eat a real dinner on Thanksgiving. I know how caught up in your job you get, but you have to have some turkey. No fast food, okay?”

I assure her, “Mom, I don’t really eat fast food, anyway.”

“Oh, that’s good, honey. But promise me about the turkey.”

“Yes, Mom,” I dutifully reply. “I will absolutely have some turkey on Thanksgiving.”

I talk a bit longer with my parents, and then I call Lainey.

“Sestra!” she sings out when she answers.

I start laughing. “Sounds like someone’s been binge watching Orphan Black again.”

My sister may have a slight obsession with Tatiana Maslany.

“Guilty as charged,” she replies. “I just finished with another multi-season viewing. I swear I might die waiting for season five.”

“You’ll live,” I assure her.

“Oh, hold on a minute. I’m getting a text.”

I imagine Lainey holding out her phone to read her new message. When she returns to our convo, she huffs.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“That was from Dad. What’s this about you not coming home for Thanksgiving?”

Sighing, I break the bad news to her. “It’s true, Lain. That’s why I’m calling, to let you know I won’t make it home this year. Dad just beat me to it.”

“Damn, your job is so freaking all-consuming.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” I reply, feeling sad.

“I’m seeing it now more than ever, Aubrey. When do you have time to, like, live a life?”

Lainey is right. No wonder I fell for a client. I have no time for anyone other than whoever it is I’m life-coaching. What am I going to do when I’m assigned to someone new? Sure I’ll have a little time off, but then another assignment will come along. Do I really want to spend months away from Brent?

“I have a lot to think about,” I murmur.

“What’s that mean?” Lainey wants to know. “Oh wait. Holy crap! You met someone out there in Las Vegas, didn’t you?”

I’ve been dying to share my new relationship status with my sister, and finally here’s a chance. As long as I’m fuzzy on the details she won’t guess my new love interest is my client.

“I kind of have,” I admit.

Lainey squeals into the phone, “Details, Aubrey, I want details. Tell me everything. Plus, I want to know when I get to meet him. Will you be bringing him home to Pennsylvania for Christmas?”

“Whoa, slow down. We’re in the early stages of dating. Although I have known him since August.”

Another excited squeal assaults my ear. “What’s his name?”

This should be safe. “Brent,” I reply.

“How old is he?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Ooh, you cougar. A younger man.”

“Lainey.” I roll my eyes. “I’m only two years older than him.”

“Okay, whatever. Tell me more. What does he do? How’d you meet? Is he hot?”

I answer the only question I can, and luckily it’s the one I know Lainey wants to hear the most. “He’s absolutely gorgeous, Lainey.” Now it’s my turn to squeal a little. “He’s tall, like over six feet, and he has all this nice, thick dark hair. And then there’s his face.”

“Cute, huh?”

“Gorgeous.”

“What about his body?”

“Oh my God, it’s to die for. He’s built, all masculine and strong.”

I sigh, and so does Lainey.

And then she says, “Mmm, he sounds like he’s smoking hot.”

“He is,” I assure her. “He really is.”

“So what color are his eyes?” Giggling, she adds, “They’re not sunflower brown, are they?”

It’s safe to answer truthfully on that one. “Um, no, they’re more whiskey colored.”

“You were so funny that night, Aubrey,” Lainey goes on, referring to the party where I was drooling over Brent, only to find myself waking up in his bed.

If Lainey only knew that guy is my guy she’d die.

I can’t share that with her, but I can say, “You know what’s really wild, Lainey?”

“What?”

“The guy I’m dating looks an awful lot like the guy from that night, the one I was drooling over. I swear they could be twins.”

“Wow, lucky you,” she says. “That dude was sexy as hell.”

Smiling at the serendipitous way things sometimes work out, I say, “Yes, he certainly was.” And is.

Lainey then surprises the hell out of me when she asks, “Are you in love with him?”

“Um…”

“You are, aren’t you?”

Yes!

Lainey can’t hear my internal thoughts, but she may as well have. “Does he love you back?”

“I think so.”

“What? You haven’t told each other yet?”

I reply with what I believe is true. “Words aren’t everything. I’m sure we’ll get around to saying it to each other, but for now I’m good. I feel his love for me every day we spend together.”

“Ah, that’s sweet.” She sighs into the phone. “Now we need to find someone for me. Maybe I’ll get lucky like you and find my Prince Charming. But it’ll have to be after I graduate in May.”

“Why? Are there no good prospects up there at school?”

“Not really,” she says. “I date a lot, but there’s no one special emerging from the pack. I can’t wait to graduate, Aubs. I’m ready for real men in the real world.”

“Ha!” I laugh. “The real world isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, trust me.”

It’s true. The real world sucks sometimes, especially when it prevents you from sharing with your sister the complete details of the man you’re head-over-heels in love with.