Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
After we put out a statement that the picture was an old one, it was one old story after another. I know it’s playing on Matthew’s mind and his game. He got six penalties tonight and was benched the last three shifts of the game. It didn’t help that they are on a losing streak. Night after night, we would fall asleep in the same bed, him holding me, but I feel he is almost shutting down.
By the time the plane touches down, it’s three a.m. I walk off the plane and head to the car waiting for us. Once we get inside and away from everyone’s eyes he finally grabs my hand, bringing it to his lips. “You okay?” I ask him softly.
“Not even a bit, but I’m happy to be home. I don’t have to practice tomorrow, but I think I’ll go in and just skate with Phil,” he says while he looks out the window. “I fucking hate this shit.”
“It’ll blow over,” I tell him, hoping to fuck it’s the truth. I don’t know if I can put up with much more. The pictures of him half naked, with girls all over him, make my stomach hurt. The only thing I think makes it better is that it’s never the same girl. Puck bunnies at their finest.
When we walk into the house we don’t even open the lights, going upstairs straight to my room that has slowly become our room. His suits now hang in my closet, his clothes are in my drawers, his shampoo in my shower. His razor on my sink. Our clothes in the laundry basket.
I wake up the next day to an empty bed but a note rests on the bedside.
At the rink. Text you later.
I put my phone back down and get up, grabbing my robe while I walk to the bathroom. Matthew wasn’t joking when he said naked to bed. I learned this mistake when we were in the hotel room. I went to bed with a T-shirt. When he came in and saw, he walked right back out and came back in. I didn’t really pay much attention to him till he turned me on my back, straddled my thighs, and cut my T-shirt right down the middle. Cut. It. Right. Down. The. Middle.
“Babe, naked.” Is all he said till he leaned down, taking a nipple in his mouth. After that, I went to bed naked each time for fear that my clothes would end up in shreds.
I’m washing my face when I hear my phone ringing in the other room. I run back and grab the phone to see it’s Vivienne.
“Bonjour.” Hello, I answer in French.
“Salope.” Slut, she answers back, making me laugh. “Are you finally back in New York?” I hear beeping in the background, so I know she is walking down the street somewhere in the city.
“Yes. Thank God.” I walk down to the kitchen, starting the coffee. “I’m home for a whole five days. I’m planning to watch television and make a permanent mark on the couch cushion.” I make a list in my head of all the shows I’m going to be watching for the next five days.
“Good. I’m on my way to you. We need to catch up,” she tells me the minute I hear the bell buzz.
“Are you here already?” I ask, walking to the door and seeing the UPS guy. “It’s UPS. Get your ass over here, or I’m starting Below Deck without you.” I hang up right when she starts cursing in French again. I open the door and smile at the UPS guy when he asks if I’m Karrie Cooney. When I tell him I am, he makes me sign for the huge box. He brings it in, placing it on the floor next to the table. Once I close the door behind him I walk to the box with an Red Apple logo on the corner. I pick it up, struggling with it while I leave it on the table in the living room. I go to the kitchen to make my coffee and grab a knife to open the box. My phone beeps with an incoming message. I grab it, seeing it’s from Matthew.
On my way home! Don’t open the box till I get there.
I squeeze my eyebrows together, thinking what the hell could be in that box. I don’t have time to think about it anymore because there’s a knock at the door. I smile to myself, knowing it’s Vivienne. She is the only one who refuses to ring. Walking to the door, I smile seeing her face plastered to the door.
“Fofolle.” Crazy girl, I tell her, opening the door.
“I come with presents.” She puts the bag up, showing me that she stopped to get croissants.
“Then you can come in.” I walk away while she closes the door, shrugs off her coat, and throws her purse on the table.