Chapter Thirteen
My heart is going to be slow and careful with Maxime, but it’s not with the sport of hockey.
Because I’ve fallen head over heels in love with this game.
We’re only halfway through the first period, but the thrill of seeing a game live is like no other sport I’ve ever experienced. I love how quickly the game moves, how the difference between a goal going in or missing the net can be mere inches, and how the players jump over the wall and get right into the flow of the fast-moving game. I love the sound of the skates cutting the ice and the puck ringing off a goal post. The cold air on my skin is even tolerable in this environment.
I snuggle up in my black, bell-sleeved sweater, layered under a black leather jacket, as a TV timeout is called on the ice. I’m sitting next to JoJo and Sierra in the seats reserved for WAGS, and while I don’t understand much about the game itself, I know I’m amazed at what I see. It’s so much faster in person; I can’t believe the speed of these players. The hits seem harder, more physical, as I hear players bang against the Plexiglass and see the way it absorbs the impact of their bodies.
Of course, the most exciting thing is watching Maxime play. I’m locked in on him at all times, even when he’s on the bench. I’m in awe of how quickly he can turn direction on the ice. Maxime always seems to instinctively know where he needs to be. Right now, he’s on the bench with Gavin, and Maxime is pointing something out on the ice with his gloved hand. I watch as Gavin nods in agreement as Maxime talks to him, no doubt plotting some strategy against the Orlando Bobcats.
A woman moving down our row catches my attention. To my left is a girl named Ana, who is from the Czech Republic and dating a player who has been her boyfriend since they were teens. She made a point to welcome me and chose to sit by me for the game. We exchanged some small talk before she began talking to another WAG.
I study the tall, beautiful woman moving toward me, and since I’ve met everyone except for Veronica, I have a feeling I’m about to meet the captain’s girlfriend.
“Ana, would you mind switching seats for a second? I need to introduce myself to this new face here,” Veronica says, flashing me a smile.
“Sure,” Ana says, nodding. “It was nice chatting with you, Skye,” she says, rising and moving to exit the row.
“Likewise, it was a pleasure,” I say, smiling at her.
As soon as she leaves, Veronica takes her seat. A cloying, heavy perfume invades my space, telling me this woman doesn’t know the meaning of the word subtle.
“You’re new,” Veronica says, studying me with interest. “I’m Veronica, and I’m Gavin Tremblay’s girlfriend.”
She drops her Balenciaga bag next to her exquisite black stiletto heels—making sure to turn her foot so I can see the famous red sole of her Louboutin shoes—and extends her hand to me.
“And you are?” she asks pointedly.
“Hello, I’m Skye Reeve,” I say, shaking her hand firmly. “Nice to meet you, Veronica.”
Her glossy lips part and a gasp of surprise escapes her mouth. “You! I knew you looked familiar! I guess I didn’t recognize you since you aren’t crying like you were on the last episode of Is It Love?”
I feel JoJo stiffen in her seat. I keep the smile frozen on my face and lean forward to block her so she can’t go Sophia Petrillo again on Veronica.
I can handle Veronica myself. If it’s one thing I can thank the tabloids for, it’s learning how to deal with people who think you are worth nothing because you were on a dating show.
“Yes,” I say, smiling brightly at her. “Thank goodness for waterproof mascara, right?”
Veronica’s mouth goes back to a tight smile.
JoJo and Sierra were right. Veronica was hoping I’d get upset with her dragging up my worst moment on the show.
Ha. What a rookie. She’ll have to do much better than that if she is going to get under my skin.
“I was just joking,” Veronica says, putting her hand on my jacket. “So, who are you here for? These seats are reserved for wives and girlfriends, not reality show runner-ups.”
“She is with us,” JoJo snaps, not trying to hide the anger in her voice.
“I wasn’t aware we had seat designations broken down by if we starred on a reality show or not,” Sierra adds.
“I merely wondered if she was getting celebrity treatment, Sierra; no need to get snippy. I thought maybe you were placed here by some team lackey in PR,” Veronica insists.
“I’m friends with Maxime Laurent,” I say, shifting my attention back to the ice now that play has started again.
I feel Veronica looking at me as I continue to stare straight ahead.
“Maxime?”
“Yes.”
I see Maxime jump over the boards with Gavin as they take to the ice again, and I wish Veronica would quit talking to me so I can focus on the game. They skate back on defense, as the Bobcats have control of the puck and are passing it down toward the other end of the ice. I shift my eyes to the large video screen so I don’t miss anything while they are down on that end.
“Interesting,” she says. “You don’t seem like Maxime’s type.”
I don’t reward her by looking at her. I’m about to say something when JoJo jumps in.
“Funny, you told me the same thing about Cade,” JoJo says, her voice extra sweet as she addresses Veronica. “Yet, here we are, engaged and getting married this summer. Maybe you don’t read men as well as you think you do, Veronica. Oh, just kidding!”
Oh, she’s so not kidding, and it’s all I can do not to laugh.
One of the Bobcats takes a shot on goal, but Gavin deflects the puck, and it sails into the boards behind the net. Maxime is instantly back there, chipping at it. He frees it around to the other end, where it’s picked up by another Mountain Lions player. He passes it back up the ice, and I see Gavin move the puck across center ice.
“Maxime doesn’t seem like he’d be into a reality, um, you know, I don’t even know what to call you, but I guess a reality personality, you know?”
“Skye is a TV reporter,” Sierra says bluntly. “She’s going to work on Boulder Live.”
Veronica gives us a fake laugh. “Oh, a small market, how fun!”
“I’m happy, and that’s what matters,” I say, keeping my voice sweet and light.
Gavin works the puck around the net, passing it to Cade Callahan. I watch as Maxime positions himself off to the left.
Give it to Maxime, I will Cade.
Cade shoots the puck to Maxime. My heartbeat picks up as I watch Maxime move it around. I want him to shoot it so badly, but Maxime remains diligent, working for the best shot available and willing to pass the puck to a teammate who has it.
He passes it back across the ice to Gavin. Gavin fires, but the puck bounces off the top of the net, and everyone in the arena groans.
Of course, Veronica is oblivious to the game and continues to zero in on me.
“Isn’t that the reason anyone would do a reality TV show like Is It Love? To use the exposure to get a real career?”
Her words slap hard across my face because they’re true.
I know some people think less of me for doing the show. I’m going to have to fight this the rest of my life because I entered the show with those aspirations. My credentials from UCLA don’t matter to most people, nor does the fact that I know how to write my own scripts, record voiceovers, and edit my own video.
What I can do, however, is an excellent job on Boulder Live. I’ll prove to everyone I work with at the station that I belong there just as much as they do, and that’s what matters.
The puck is turned over, and Maxime’s line heads off the ice as they go back toward the other end.
I turn back to Veronica. “Sorry, I was concentrating on the game. Back to your comment. I did get exposure on the show, which is huge. I’m grateful for that. However, that will only give you a chance. You need to work hard to keep opportunities that are given to you, and that’s exactly what I will do while on Boulder Live.”
My phone buzzes in my lap, and I flip it over. It’s our group conversation thread.
JoJo: You’re slaying her. Keep going!
I smile and put my phone face down in my lap.
There’s another shift change, and the score remains tied at zero.
“True,” Veronica says, swinging her foot back and forth as she adjusts the cuff bracelet on her left wrist. “I still can’t imagine Maxime with someone who was in such a public role. He’s so reserved. He doesn’t even post pics on his Instagram account, which is weird. Yet you are splashed all over the place, Skye. I can’t imagine Maxime seeing someone who, you know, has been on the cover of icky tabloids and will continue to be until the public gets tired of your run as a reality show sweetheart.”
I reach up for my hair, beginning to braid it as a distraction from the horrible feeling sweeping through me. She’s right about this, too. Maxime didn’t seem to care when I told him my story, but will he like seeing awful stories about me if we’re dating?
Stories that could potentially involve him?
I can’t think about it. I can’t.
Because if I had any sense of decency, I’d walk away from him now, rather than risk putting an amazing man like Maxime, who values his privacy and protecting his image, through this. Even though the tabloid attention will wane eventually, when you are living in it in real time, it’s awful.
And while I can promise it will wane, I can’t promise it will die.
“Obviously, it doesn’t matter to Maxime,” Sierra says, keeping her eyes on Jude, who has taken to the ice now. “He knows what he gets with Skye, which is a brilliant, wonderful, kind person.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean anything by that,” Veronica says, touching my arm again. “Just thinking aloud about how different you two are. But you know, opposites attract, right?”
I see JoJo typing frantically on her phone, no doubt sending another message about Veronica, but I’m rattled.
Veronica is right. She’s one hundred percent right, and if Maxime dates me, I will drag him into a world he will want no part of.
“Go, Jude!” Sierra yells excitedly, interrupting my painful thoughts.
I watch as Jude breaks down the ice, toward our end, with the puck on his stick on a breakaway. We all rise to our feet as Jude approaches the net. He makes a fancy move with the puck, faking out the goalie before releasing a wicked shot toward the net.
Bam! The puck hits the back of the net, and the goal horn sounds as the crowd leaps to their feet.
The entire arena begins cheering and yelling “JUUUUUUUUUUUUUDE.” JoJo snaps a pic of Sierra celebrating her fiancé’s goal, which she uploads to Snapchat.
The goal song plays as Jude is hugged by the Mountain Lions on the ice. They skate back toward the bench, exchanging high-fives, and I watch as Maxime affectionately taps the top of Jude’s helmet.
As soon as the puck is dropped at face-off at center ice, we all sit back down. Veronica has moved on to texting on her phone, but her words are still rolling around in my head. I know JoJo has texted me, but I haven’t read it. She and Sierra are trying to engage me in conversation, but I’m lost.
In so many ways.
I know Veronica is right about Maxime, about what will happen if we start seeing each other and this private man is dragged into the one place he never wants to be.
Into the spotlight.
Maxime jumps back on the ice again, and my throat grows tight as I watch him play the game he loves so much. He’s willing to put up with the media for this game, but the spotlight attached to me will be much harsher.
It might have been fate that we reconnected, but believing in fate doesn’t mean blindly ignoring reality. And it doesn’t mean Maxime should be dragged through the mud in gossip blogs or tabloids.
No, that doesn’t have to be his future, I think. I must do the right thing.
And that is to end things tonight.