27
After returning from practice the next morning, Reid took Nadia sightseeing.
Because she loved music so much, their first stop was the Motown Historical Museum. Upon arriving, they joined a small group of visitors on a guided tour that began in Berry Gordy’s humble apartment and progressed through the business office, the control room and the studio. Their tour guide was a spirited black man with the soaring alto of a songbird and a head full of knowledge about all things Motown. During the tour he frequently burst into song, much to the delight of the group.
For Nadia, it was a surreal experience to retrace the steps of all the Motown legends whose music she’d grown up listening to. Her skin erupted in goose bumps when she saw the desk, phones and typewriter that Diana Ross had used when she’d worked there as a receptionist before landing her big break. Reid, who’d visited the museum a few times before, took pleasure in Nadia’s girlish excitement as they viewed memorabilia from the Temptations, the Supremes, Marvin Gaye, Mary Wells, the Jackson Five, the Four Tops, Stevie Wonder, the Pips and many others who came through the doors of Hitsville U.S.A.
The hourlong tour ended in the legendary Studio A, where so many Motown hits had been recorded. The studio boasted all the original microphones, instruments and music stands that still had the old sheet music on them. After demonstrating how the echo chamber worked, the tour guide led the group in a lively rendition of “My Girl.” When Reid kissed Nadia at the end of the song, everyone clapped and cheered, and the grinning tour guide serenaded them with “Ebony and Ivory” by Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder.
Afterward several people asked Reid for his autograph and took pictures with him. Then he and Nadia stopped in the gift shop, where he bought her a ton of souvenirs to share with her family.
After they left the museum, Reid took a circuitous route to his childhood home in Allen Park, a blue-collar middle class suburb of Detroit. When they passed the giant Uniroyal tire along the interstate, he slowed down so that Nadia could take a picture of the iconic landmark.
Allen Park was located in an area known as Downriver. It was home to many corporate offices and testing facilities for Ford Motor Company, where Reid’s father had spent his career. The Detroit Lions’ headquarters and practice facility were also located in the small city.
As they drove along, Reid pointed out various places of interest such as the Fairlane Green Shopping Center and Allen Park High School, his alma mater. He took Nadia to the outdoor ice rink where he’d learned to skate. As they sat in the parking lot staring out the window, warm nostalgia softened his expression.
“Seeing this place always brings back memories of the day I laced up my first pair of Bauers and stepped onto that ice to play in my first hockey game,” he reminisced. “I remember how nervous and excited I was. And my dad was so damn proud he couldn’t stop grinning.”
Nadia smiled softly, watching Reid’s face as he stared at the deserted ice rink. Sitting there beside him while he took a nostalgic stroll down memory lane, she couldn’t help feeling even closer to him.
“Did your team win?” she asked.
He grinned. “Nah. We got destroyed.”
She laughed. “Sorry to hear that.”
“It’s all good.” He winked, shifting the car into drive. “Sometimes in sports, a good ass kicking can be the best motivation.”
They left the ice rink and continued on to his old neighborhood. The streets were lined with trees, bare in winter, and most of the homes they passed were made of brick. Before long Reid turned onto a quiet residential side street and parked at the curb in front of a modest brick rambler.
“Here we are,” he announced.
Nadia smiled, staring out the window in fascination. “So this is where you grew up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He fondly rattled off the address.
“It doesn’t look like anyone is home.” Nadia’s face was pressed so close to the glass that her breath formed a perfect circle of fog. “Can we get out and take a closer look?”
“Sure.” Reid chuckled. “Just don’t go peeping through windows. I’m not trying to get arrested before tomorrow’s game.”
Nadia laughed as they climbed out of the car, then stood at the end of the driveway staring up at the old brick house. A faded Red Wings banner flapped on a pole bracket mounted on the front of the house. The large front yard was decorated with an inflatable Santa, snowman, candy canes, a sleigh with reindeer and a Nativity scene. The homeowner had also hung Christmas lights and placed a large wreath on the front door.
Nadia grinned. “No one can accuse this family of not getting into the holiday spirit.”
Reid chuckled. “It looked even more, ah, festive when we lived here.”
“Really?”
He laughed at her incredulous tone. “Dad was competitive and wanted our house to be the best in the neighborhood. So he went all out on holiday decorations. Everything would be strung with lights—the roof, windows, trees, shrubs, all the decorations in the yard, you name it. He always came up with the most elaborate light displays that had people coming from miles away to look at our house.” Reid grinned. “Aria absolutely loved it, but Avery was embarrassed. Ryder and I didn’t care one way or the other; we just dreaded having to help Dad take down the decorations. It was a pain in the ass and usually took half a day.”
“I’ll bet.” Nadia grinned, snuggling against Reid as he curved an arm around her waist and kissed her temple. She sighed contentedly. “I like your old house. I can totally picture you growing up here.”
He smiled softly. “It was a good place. I have nothing but fond memories of living here.”
An elderly white couple walking by suddenly stopped and stared at Reid. As their eyes widened in recognition, he smiled and called out a warm greeting, identifying the man and woman as Mr. and Mrs. Walcott. The couple’s faces lit up with smiles as they hurried over to exchange exuberant hugs with Reid. When he introduced Nadia as his girlfriend, she thought she detected a hint of surprise and disapproval on the couple’s faces before they smiled and shook her hand.
They asked Reid about his family, and he asked about theirs. As they all stood around laughing and chatting, Mr. and Mrs. Walcott regaled Nadia with funny stories from Reid’s childhood. Her friendly laughter and demeanor apparently put them at ease. Before they parted ways, the elderly couple urged Reid to bring Nadia to dinner the next time he came home.
After leaving Allen Park, Reid and Nadia headed to the community center he’d founded on the East Side. As they drove along, it was hard to ignore the signs of urban decay that marred the landscape. Staring out the window at the passing scenery, Nadia was struck by the abundance of vacant houses and lots. There were gaping holes where empty auto factories once stood, communities overrun by decrepit buildings and weed-choked land.
As Reid navigated the familiar streets, he spoke frankly about the economic hardships that had ravaged the Motor City. He told Nadia about various planning initiatives and proposals to salvage Detroit, and he expressed both frustration and optimism about the city’s future. But no matter how grim his words, there was no mistaking the deep pride and affection in his voice. For better or worse, Detroit was, and always would be, his beloved hometown. And that made Nadia love and appreciate him even more.
To lighten the somber mood, she asked casually, “So where did Eminem grow up?”
Reid shot her a narrow glance. “Seriously?”
“What?” She blinked, fighting the urge to laugh. “I’m just curious.”
“He grew up on the East Side,” Reid grumbled. “His childhood home was demolished two years ago. Just in case you were thinking about asking me to show you where he lived.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Good,” Reid grunted.
Nadia slanted him a teasing grin. “Why, Mr. Holden, I do believe you’re jealous of Mr. Mathers.”
“Please,” Reid said with a snort. “Why the hell would I be jealous of him?”
“Because I’m a big fan of his music, and you can’t stand the thought of me liking any white boy but you.”
Reid grumbled something under his breath that made her throw back her head with a peal of laughter.
Soon they arrived at the community center, a modern two-story redbrick building with large multi-paned windows. A crowd of reporters and cameramen was camped out near the front entrance.
Reid glared out the window, his jaw tightening with displeasure. “Shit,” he muttered darkly. “I told Kyle to leak to the media that I was coming here tomorrow, not today.”
Nadia grimaced, surveying the large crowd. “Guess they didn’t take the bait.”
Reid scowled. She knew he’d been hoping to avoid the press and TV cameras, not wanting his visit to be turned into a three-ring media circus.
With a sigh of resignation, he pulled into a reserved parking space in front of the building, then got out and came around to open Nadia’s door. As she stepped out of the car, he grasped her hand and instructed, “Don’t let go.”
They’d barely taken three steps toward the building before the media hounds began running toward them, cameras flashing rapidly.
Nadia felt overwhelmed by the flurry and motion of the reporters shoving microphones into their faces and shouting questions at Reid. She ducked her head, clutching his hand as he pushed his way through the crowd.
Undeterred, the reporters continued firing their questions:
“How does it feel to be home again, Reid?”
“How’re you feeling about tomorrow night’s game against the Red Wings?”
“How do you feel about scoring your three hundredth goal in enemy territory? How do you think the crowd will react if that happens?”
“How long have you and Miss Warner been dating?”
“Any truth to the rumors that you’re getting engaged?”
“Will your wedding take place here or in Denver?”
At the entrance to the building, Reid turned to face the buzzing crowd, protectively shielding Nadia behind him. “Look, folks, I just came here to visit the kids and see how everything’s going. I’m not looking for a photo op. Frankly, I wasn’t expecting to see any of you here. But since you showed up, you’re welcome to stick around as long as you don’t get in the way.”
With that, he turned his back on the reporters and opened the main door for Nadia. She stepped inside, entering a soaring atrium flooded with natural light from the large windows. Beneath her booted feet, the gray marble floor was so polished it looked icy.
A banner suspended from the vaulted roof of the lobby showed a picture of Reid with hockey legend Bobby Orr. The two defensemen were wearing skates and holding hockey sticks as they posed together on the ice. Their bodies were bent forward in an attack position, poised and ready to seize control of the puck lying between them.
“Wow,” Nadia breathed, looking around in amazement. “This place is awesome, Reid.”
“Thanks,” he murmured distractedly, glowering at the reporters that had followed them inside the building.
“Hey! You’re here!” An attractive fortysomething black woman with short natural hair emerged from the front office and strode toward them with a welcoming smile. She bore a strong resemblance to the singer Jill Scott, but Nadia recognized her from the picture on the community center’s website. Her name was Dawn Legette, and she was the director.
When Reid saw her approaching, his face relaxed into an easy smile. “Hey, Dawn, how’re you doing?”
“I’m doing just great, Reid.” She greeted him with effusive warmth, giving him a hug as she welcomed him back home.
When he introduced her to Nadia, she beamed and eagerly shook Nadia’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Detroit.”
Nadia smiled, instantly warming to her. “Thank you very much.”
Dawn grinned at Reid. “The kids were so excited when they heard you’d be coming by today. That’s all they’ve been talking about for days.”
“Yeah?” Reid smiled fondly. “I’ve been looking forward to this visit too. It worked out great that today’s a school holiday.”
“Absolutely,” Dawn agreed, her brown eyes twinkling. “Many of the kids have been here since we opened the doors this morning.”
“Awesome.” Reid’s smile softened. “Listen, Dawn, I just want to thank you for all your hard work and dedication. I’ve heard nothing but wonderful things about the job you’re doing here. You know how important the center is to me. Since I can’t be here all the time, it means a lot to know that the place is in such good hands.”
Dawn beamed, visibly touched by his praise. “Thank you so much for saying that, Reid. I appreciate your confidence in me. When you interviewed me for this position, I promised to carry out your vision for the community center. I love working here, and I’m honored to be part of what you started.”
When Reid bowed gallantly and kissed the back of Dawn’s hand, she laughed and placed her other hand over her heart. The whole exchange had Nadia smiling from ear to ear, filled with warm fuzzies.
A tall, dark-skinned black man walked up to greet Reid, shaking his hand and clapping him congenially on the shoulder. While Reid’s attention was diverted, Dawn leaned toward Nadia in a confiding manner and whispered, “He’s a keeper.”
Nadia grinned. “I know.”
Reid paused his conversation to introduce her to the community center’s athletic director, who greeted her with a friendly, “Good to meet you, sister.”
When he and Reid resumed their spirited conversation about some upcoming tournament, Nadia wandered across the atrium to study the contents of a large glass-fronted display case built into the wall. There were dozens of framed autographed photos of Reid with other NHL players who’d visited the center over the years, most notably Wayne Gretzky, Bobby Orr and Mario Lemieux. He was photographed with current superstars such as Sidney Crosby, Alex Ovechkin, Henrik Lundqvist and P.K. Subban. He also appeared in pictures with practically every player—past and present—who’d ever worn a Red Wings uniform.
Nadia marveled at the collection of photos and beamed proudly at the NHL Player Foundation Award that Reid had won for his volunteer work throughout Detroit.
When he came up behind her and put an arm around her waist, she smiled and gestured to the display case. “Very impressive.”
He smiled, nuzzling her ear. “Let’s go see the kids, then I’ll give you a tour.”
As they started across the atrium, they encountered a horde of children who had been eagerly anticipating Reid’s arrival. They seemed to appear out of nowhere. Ranging in age from about four to twelve, they converged on Reid, darting around, jostling one another, chattering animatedly and vying for his attention.
Wearing a broad grin, Reid moved through the crowd, slapping high fives, palming small heads and ruffling unruly mops of hair while the children’s parents looked on with smiles. Several older kids waved bottles of Gatorade Ice, eager to show their hero that they, too, could drink like a champion.
Although there were plenty of white children, Nadia noticed that the majority were black or Latino.
When Reid introduced her around, she smiled warmly and shook hands, squatting to ask questions and tweak little noses. The children giggled when she did that, and one adorable black girl impulsively wrapped her arms around Nadia’s neck and hugged her, melting her heart.
She’d nearly forgotten about the presence of the media until the cameras started flashing and the microphones started waving.
While Dawn obligingly answered questions, Reid ignored the reporters and steered Nadia and the children through the atrium to the Olympic-size ice rink. Several young hockey players were skating laps or running through practice drills on the ice. Nadia was surprised and pleased to see more than a few girls out there doing their thing. She wanted to walk over and give them high fives, but no way was she stepping foot on that ice in her spike-heeled ankle boots.
When the young players saw Reid, they stopped what they were doing and stared at him, their eyes wide with awe. When he grinned and waved, they broke into excited smiles and started heading off the ice. Puzzled by the sudden mass exodus, the youth coaches looked over their shoulders. Spotting Reid, they grinned broadly and waved him over.
Reid reached for Nadia’s hand. “C’mon. Let’s go say hello.”
“You go ahead,” she told him. “I’ll just find a seat and watch you play for a while.”
He kissed the tip of her nose and winked, then moved off to greet the coaches and players. Nadia absently noted that while the hockey coaches were white, the director and athletic director—who ran the community center—were both black.
At that moment Dawn sidled up to Nadia, her eyes twinkling with the sisterly familiarity often shared between black women upon meeting for the first time.
“Forgive me for being nosy, but how long have you and Reid been dating?”
Nadia smiled. “We met in October,” she answered, watching as the kids gathered excitedly around Reid. “We’ve been together about two months.”
“Really?” Dawn sounded surprised. “I assumed it had been much longer than that. The way you two look at each other, anyone can see you’re deeply in love.”
Nadia’s cheeks warmed. “I guess we are,” she said shyly.
Dawn gave her a pleased smile. “Both of you have good taste.”
Nadia returned her smile. “Thank you.”
A companionable silence fell between them as they watched Reid address the kids. The young hockey hopefuls were staring up at him with awed expressions, hanging on his every word.
“Most of these children come from low-income homes,” Dawn explained to Nadia, casually folding her arms across her chest. “The community center was established not only to provide free skating and hockey lessons, but also to give these kids a safe haven after school and on the weekends. Thanks to generous financial contributions from Reid and several private donors, we have a large annual budget that enables us to pay for each child’s hockey equipment, skates, uniforms and any other supplies needed. Our summer hockey camp is free for all children who qualify—which are the majority of them that come through these doors. We also provide free breakfast, lunch and snacks for camp participants, and Reid secured corporate sponsors to donate sports drinks and hockey gear. Whenever we need anything, all I have to do is pick up the phone and call him, and it’s taken care of.”
“That’s wonderful,” Nadia said warmly, her heart swelling with pride and gratitude for Reid’s generosity and commitment to the community.
“People often ask me why hockey isn’t as popular in America as the other major league sports,” Dawn continued in a philosophical tone. “I always explain to them that hockey isn’t as accessible as basketball, football or baseball. The equipment is more expensive, for starters. And you need an ice rink to play hockey. Most of these kids can play pickup games at their neighborhood basketball court, or they can walk down the street to a park or an empty lot to toss around a football with other kids. But not everyone lives near an ice rink, and not everyone can afford ice skating lessons.”
“That’s very true,” Nadia agreed. “Lack of accessibility is a big issue, but there’s also the image factor. Most people I know identify hockey as strictly a Canadian sport, so that already makes it seem foreign. I was also surprised to read somewhere that the NHL audience is the richest of all professional sports, with one-third of viewers making more than $100,000. And, of course, we both know that white guys are the face of professional hockey. The minority players are few and far between.”
“Very true,” Dawn conceded, nodding. “That’s one of the main reasons Reid opened this community center—to make hockey more accessible to minority youth. He truly wants the NHL to become more diverse, and he’s doing his part to help make that happen. If more ice rinks begin popping up in urban communities around the country, it wouldn’t surprise me if we start seeing more black and Latino players entering the NHL over the next ten or fifteen years.”
“That would be great,” Nadia enthused. “I know my brother would certainly appreciate that. He’s always loved hockey and wanted to see more players that look like him.”
“He just might get his wish.” Dawn paused. “In time.”
Nadia smiled, watching as Reid laced up a pair of skates that had been provided for him. When he stepped onto the ice, a boisterous cheer went up from the crowd of children and parents.
He began skating around the rink with the kids, laughing warmly as they tried to impress him with their skating ability.
“He’s really good with children, isn’t he?” Dawn fondly observed.
Nadia smiled softly. “He certainly is.”
“They always love it when he comes for visits. He enjoys himself too.”
“I can tell.”
Dawn smiled at her. “I don’t know if you’re religious or not, so forgive me for speaking out of turn. But I truly believe that when you have a good heart and allow God to use you, He gives you abundant favor. I think Reid was meant to score his three hundredth career goal right here at home where his star was born, if you will.”
“You think so?”
“I do,” Dawn asserted. “I know Detroit gets a bad rap, but we’re good people. So when Reid scores that goal tomorrow night, don’t be surprised if those Red Wings fans give him a standing ovation.”
Nadia grinned. “Do you really think that could happen?”
Dawn gave her an enigmatic smile. “This is Detroit. Anything’s possible.”
Nadia’s grin widened. “I’ll remember that.”
Just then a freckled young redhead came up and murmured something in Dawn’s ear. She nodded and told the girl, “I’ll be right there.”
As the employee nodded briskly and walked away, Dawn turned back to Nadia and smiled. “I have to take an important phone call. But it was such a pleasure to meet you, Nadia.”
“You too,” Nadia said amiably. “Thanks for keeping me company. I enjoyed our conversation.”
“So did I.” With a twinkle in her eye, Dawn touched Nadia’s arm and pointed toward the ice rink. “You’ve got yourself a real good man over there. Hold on to him.”
“I definitely plan to,” Nadia said with an answering smile.
Dawn winked at her before leaving.
Slipping her hands into the pockets of her jeans, Nadia ventured closer to the rink to observe Reid. He had taken a little black boy aside to coach him on how to skate backwards.
As she watched, Reid dropped to a crouch, bringing himself to eye level with the boy. As he gave him instructions, the young player listened intently and nodded, his small face a study of concentration.
When Reid stood and skated over to the boards, the boy followed him and then mimicked his movements, assuming a basic hockey stance with his knees bent, back straight and head up. Then Reid braced his hands on the boards, pushed his body away and smoothly glided backwards on the ice. After that quick demonstration, he and his young pupil performed the drill together. When the boy successfully skated backwards without stumbling, his whole face lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July.
“I did it!” he cried excitedly.
“You sure did.” Reid grinned broadly and gave him a high five. “Told you you could do it.”
When the boy beamed up at him, Nadia’s heart completely melted.
In a flash, she saw Reid coaching their own son, patiently teaching him how to skate and play hockey like his old man. The image filled her with such longing she had to catch her breath. God help her. She’d never wanted any man’s baby as much as she wanted Reid Holden’s.
As if sensing her thoughts, he suddenly looked up and met her eyes across the ice rink. When he winked, her stomach quivered. She could only smile weakly in response.
Before they left the community center that afternoon, Reid gave out autographed trading cards and posed for a bunch of pictures. He called Nadia over for a group photo with all of the children. When she walked up to him, he kissed her temple and curved an arm around her waist before the picture was snapped.
At Dawn’s request, he took some questions from reporters, keeping his responses short and to the point. Now that Nadia knew the history of his adversarial relationship with the media, she understood why he was so guarded and on edge as he faced the reporters. He still didn’t trust them, and it showed in his rigid body language.
As Dawn was escorting Reid and Nadia across the atrium toward the exit, a lone voice called out, “So how are your parents doing, Reid?”
Nadia watched as his eyes flashed with fury and hardened.
Oh, shit, she thought with a sinking sense of dread.
Slowly he turned to face the reporter, a skinny white guy with shaggy brown hair and pockmarked cheeks.
When Reid spoke, his voice was low and controlled. “What did you say?”
The reporter smirked. “I asked if your mother has forgiven your father for cheating on her.”
Nadia frowned as a disapproving murmur ran through the crowd. She could feel the tension rising, knew that the cameras were rolling.
Reid’s expression was terrifyingly ominous, anger radiating off his body like a nuclear bomb. “How is that any of your damn business?”
The reporter’s smug expression faltered for just a moment. Then he recovered and drawled smoothly, “Well, given what’s at stake for you tomorrow night, I was just wondering how your parents’ bitter estrangement might impact—”
Without warning Reid lunged forward.
“Reid!” Nadia cried out, grabbing his arm.
He stopped and looked down at her. Rage, raw and powerful, glittered in his eyes. His fists were clenched at his sides and his muscles were like steel beneath her hand, hard and unyielding.
She reached up and gently cupped his cheek. “Don’t do it, baby,” she implored, her voice low enough for his ears only. “There are children watching. Children who look up to you.”
His stormy gaze shifted to pan the crowd of little faces watching him, eyes wide with curiosity and concern.
“Let’s just go,” Nadia urged.
He glared at the rude reporter, a muscle throbbing in his jaw. She could see him struggling to keep his temper in check.
“Please,” she whispered.
His jaw slid to one side. He shot one last menacing glare at the smug reporter, then took Nadia’s hand. She exchanged relieved looks with Dawn before he led her across the atrium and out of the building.
He didn’t say a word until they were back inside the car. His jaw was set in a hard line, anger seething from every pore.
After several moments, Nadia reached over and gently stroked his cheek, trying to soothe away the torment. “Forget that reporter,” she said softly. “He’s an asshole, just some jerk trying to make a name for himself.”
“I know,” Reid muttered darkly. “I shouldn’t have let him get under my skin like that.”
Nadia grimaced, shaking her head. “For what it’s worth, I understand why you did. He was way out of line, trying to get a rise out of you.”
“It worked,” Reid growled. “If you hadn’t stopped me, I would have kicked his fucking ass.”
“I know, baby. But hitting him would have given him the reaction he obviously wanted. It also would have traumatized your young fans. It’s one thing to see you kicking ass on the ice. Knocking out reporters? Not a good look.”
“Yeah. I know.” Reid pushed out a deep, ragged breath and then looked at her, a ghost of a smile touching his mouth. “You were great in there.”
She gave a rueful little laugh. “Like I said, I didn’t want you getting arrested for killing that douchebag.”
“I wasn’t talking about that.” His lips quirked. “Although, yeah, you probably did just save me from going to jail.”
She laughed again.
“What I was referring to was the way you interacted with the kids,” Reid went on. “You were really great, Nadia. They loved you.”
She smiled, her cheeks warming. “Not as much as they loved you.”
“Don’t be too sure of that.” He brought her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles and stroked her palm along his face as he stared into her eyes. “I can tell you’re going to make a wonderful mother someday.”
A melting warmth spread through her at his words. “I was thinking the same thing about you, that you’re going to be an amazing father.”
As they gazed at each other, he turned his face into her hand and kissed her palm. She shivered, her lips parting on a shaky breath.
When the reporters and cameramen began emerging from the building, Reid slowly released Nadia’s hand and started the engine.
“Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s get some lunch.”
He took her to a ritzy seafood restaurant on Detroit’s riverfront. They had a cozy table by the window, where they could enjoy breathtaking views of Windsor, Ontario across the glistening river.
“I can’t believe I’m looking at Canada,” Nadia marveled, sipping from a glass of red wine as she stared out the window. “This is so cool.”
Across the table, Reid gave her a lazy smile. “When we come back in the summer, I’ll take you over to Windsor. It’s a pretty city and the weather will be warmer, so we can spend the day sightseeing and sailing.”
Nadia smiled at him. “I’d like that.”
She didn’t know what pleased her more: his lovely suggestion or the way he was making future plans for them, as if there was no doubt in his mind that they would be together.
Their waiter appeared to top off their wine and ask how they were doing. His tone was deferential, and he still wore the same star-struck expression he’d had when they arrived. Nadia wondered how long it would take him to ask for Reid’s autograph.
When he departed, she took another sip of the rich wine that tasted of blackberries and currants. It was the perfect complement to the delicious lunch they’d enjoyed: flaky sea bass with caramelized scallops and a creamy slice of key lime pie for dessert.
Reid was gazing at her, his expression soft and warm. “I’m glad you’re here, Nadia.”
Pleasure spread through her veins. “So am I. I’m having a wonderful time.”
“Good.” He smiled, reaching for his wineglass. “I wish you could come to all my away games.”
“So do I. Then I could keep a close eye on you.”
He looked startled for a moment, the joke catching him off guard.
When she winked, he chuckled softly and brought his glass to his lips, watching her over the rim as he drank his wine.
She smiled. “I’m hanging out with your sisters tomorrow while you’re off doing your game day stuff.”
He nodded. “Avery told me. Sorry I won’t be around most of the day.”
She waved off his apology. “Don’t be sorry. Duty calls.”
He grimaced. “Speaking of which…” He pulled his buzzing phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen.
“Everything okay?” Nadia asked.
“Yeah. Just a sec.”
While he responded to the text message, Nadia sipped her wine and casually glanced around. Although the restaurant boasted an upscale clientele and fancy décor, the atmosphere was warm and relaxed with soft strains of piano music infusing the air with holiday cheer.
Full of good food and the warm glow of wine, Nadia sighed languorously as Reid put his phone away. “I’m taking a nap when we get back to the hotel,” she announced.
“Yeah?” A wicked gleam entered his eyes. “You can take one after we’re done.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Done what?”
He wiggled his brows suggestively.
She laughed. “Seriously, dude? Didn’t you get enough last night and this morning in the shower? I mean, you were almost late to practice trying to score one of your hat tricks.”
He chuckled. “And it would have been worth it.”
She shook her head at him. “You’re insatiable.”
“I thought we already established that.”
She grinned.
He grinned back and winked.
She set her glass down on the table and patted her stomach. “I should have ordered something lighter. I’m gonna be too stuffed to eat tonight, and your mom will be offended.”
“No, she won’t,” Reid said. “Besides, she’s not the one making dinner—her personal chef is. And Maeve’s an excellent cook, so I’m sure you won’t be picking at your food.”
Nadia smiled faintly. “I’m really nervous about meeting your parents tonight,” she confessed.
“Don’t be.”
“I can’t help it. What if they hate me on sight?”
Something flickered in Reid’s eyes, something that sent a frisson of warning down her spine.
She went still, staring at him. “What’s wrong?”
He was toying with his linen napkin, folding it into different configurations. “Nothing.”
He’s lying.
“I don’t believe you,” she told him.
He didn’t respond.
She let a few seconds lapse and realized he was going to make her ask. So she did. “Do your parents have a problem with me?”
He hesitated, then said in a low voice, “They don’t know you.”
She frowned. “That’s not what I asked.”
He lifted his eyes to hers. His gaze was hard and narrow. “I’m not going to let anyone disrespect you.”
A knot of anxiety twisted inside her. His words could only mean one thing. “Do you think someone’s going to disrespect me?”
A muscle clenched in his jaw before his gaze shifted away.
Her heart sank like a stone. She stared at him, her spine stiff with tension. “It’s because I’m black, isn’t it?”
He blew out a frustrated breath. “Nadia—”
“Tell me the truth, Reid. I have a right to know what I’m walking into tonight.”
His lips pressed into a grim line. “My mother’s going through some—”
“Oh my God. You’re still dodging my question.” Nadia shook her head in disbelief, feeling hurt and betrayed. “I was honest with you about my father. After he found out we were dating, I told you how he felt about our relationship. You should have given me the same courtesy.”
Reid watched her with a brooding expression. “You’re right. I should have.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“Because I knew you wouldn’t want to come this weekend.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have.” Her angry retort landed on the table like a bomb set to detonate.
They stared at each other, the tense silence throbbing between them.
Without breaking eye contact, Reid tossed his napkin onto his plate, then slid his chair around the table to sit beside her. When his knee brushed hers, heat shot through her veins before she jerked her legs away and averted her gaze. Even when she was mad at him, he could still turn her on with the slightest touch.
“Nadia.” His voice was low and urgent. “Look at me.”
She shook her head, staring blindly out the window. The wintry afternoon sun shimmered on the water, the beautiful view suddenly mocking her.
“Dammit.” Reid pulled her chair around to face him, making her gasp in surprise.
“What—”
He kissed her on the mouth, intently, his big hands framing her face as he whispered fiercely, “I love you.”
Just like that her heart melted, along with her anger. She would never tire of hearing those words from him. “I love you too,” she whispered helplessly.
He held her face between his hands, his eyes boring into hers with searing intensity. “You and me. Me and you. Nothing and no one else matters. You understand, baby? No one else matters but us. Remember that.”
She searched his eyes, then swallowed hard and nodded slowly. “I will.”
But it was easier said than done.