Well, it’s finally here! The last book in the Holiday Hat Trick trilogy is the romance we could all see coming. Em Davis has hated Ian Reid from the moment they met back in My Viral Valentine. Ian’s feelings are more complex—at least they would be if he did complex.
Some readers may have already read the story, Her Best Worst Boyfriend, in the USAToday best selling Hockey Holidays anthology. While I did use some parts of that story in this book, I had to change a lot. But it was fun. I wanted to answer the question of whether two such opposite people could find real love. While the original story was under 12K, the book is 66.5K words long; there’s a lot more here including Abby and Mason’s wedding, more economics jokes, and a sex swing (phew.)
Here are the first two chapters. My Christmas Charade is out on December 1st and can be preordered here.
Chapter One: I Dos and Don’ts
Em Davis
“Yo, earth to Em.”
Ian Reid’s loud voice broke into my daydreams of white tulle and pink rosebuds. I blinked and saw him motioning me over. Had I zoned out in the middle of the wedding rehearsal?
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry.” I scurried over to the registry table.
Abby Boyko, the bride and my best friend, gave me a Mona Lisa smile. She was the most relaxed bride ever. If it were my wedding, I would already be auditioning replacement maids of honour.
Trisha, the woman in charge of this wedding venue, positioned me by the shoulders—as if I were the ditziest member of the wedding party. “Em, you stand here. The bride and groom sign the marriage certificate first, then the best man and maid of honour sign as witnesses.”
She made us all pretend to sign an invisible piece of paper. First, Abby, then her beaming groom, Mason Harrington. Then me, the spaced-out maid of honour. And finally, Ian Reid, the best man—a misnomer if there ever was one.
Trisha continued with her detailed explanations, which were the reason I’d zoned out in the first place. I already knew too much about weddings. I’d started a wedding scrapbook when I was eleven. I had 377 pins on my Wedding Ideas Pinterest board. I was the queen of wedding knowledge even though I was still single.
I tried to concentrate on Trisha’s directions. “Then I’ll introduce you as Mr. and Mrs. Harrington.” She squinted at Abby. “That is, if you’re taking Mason’s last name?”
“I am,” Abby replied.
Trisha beamed—she was clearly a traditionalist—and continued, “Next you’ll head down the aisle. Do walk slowly, as everyone wants a good look at the newlyweds.”
“Because they’re gonna look different once they’re married,” muttered Ian, who was standing too close for my liking. With all the wedding preparations, I’d spent far too much time in his presence lately. I’d hated Ian from the moment I’d seen him, and nothing he’d done since had altered my first impression. But tonight was the wedding rehearsal and dinner, and tomorrow was the wedding. After that, I could go back to avoiding him. That alone was worth a glass of celebratory champagne.
Abby and Mason walked down the aisle slowly enough for all the empty chairs to appreciate their new appearance. I took a closer look at the chairs. They were beautifully adorned with ribbon and silk flowers. I’d have to take a photo for my wedding inspiration file.
“When you’re done imagining your wedding, we should go.” Ian offered me his arm.
How did he read my mind? I scowled at him, but Ian only smirked back in return. That was his perpetual expression—mocking me.
Hooking my arm through Ian’s without touching him proved impossible. His arm was too bulky and muscular. He was tall and broad-chested and encroached on my personal space in too many ways.
“Why are you so large?” I muttered.
“Most women appreciate that about me.” Everything was a dirty joke to him.
“Must you be so crude? We’re in a...” I hesitated because despite the arched ceiling and decorative glass windows, this venue was only a former church. Mason was agnostic and Abby was a lapsed, divorced Catholic, so this was their best option.
“You started it,” Ian said.
I opened my mouth to deliver a lecture on his immaturity and then closed it. What was the point? And why did Mason—so affable and intelligent—choose Ian to be his best man? Over my shoulder, I could see the other bridesmaid, Sophia Ando, following with Roy Wong, Mason’s childhood friend from Korea. With his sleek grey suit, he looked more like best man material than the guy beside me in his ugly sports jacket.
Ian snorted. “Looking for a possible wedding date? Roy’s not it.”
Again I saw red and answered through clenched teeth, “I’m not. Besides, how would you know what my type is?”
“I do know that he’s Mr. Wong.” Ian laughed.
I smacked his shoulder, which turned out to be so solid that the palm of my hand stung. The echoing noise earned me a stern look from Trisha.
Why did I let Ian goad me into doing stupid things?
“I would never bring a casual date to a wedding anyway,” I said. Everyone knew that weddings were contagious. What better way to end a relationship than subjecting your date to strangers asking, “So, when is it going to be your turn?” Although weddings never had any effect on my ex Lucas Yan in all the years we’d dated.
“Me either,” Ian said. “Too much pressure.”
Ian and I agreed on something? Incredible.
“So we don’t get to meet the latest in your parade of girlfriends?” I asked.
In the two-plus years I’d known him, Ian had not dated anyone for longer than a few months. While I wasn’t surprised that he couldn’t maintain a relationship, the sheer number of women willing to date him was a shock. What on earth did they see in him? Physically, he was okay—if you liked that too-much-time-at-the-gym look, which I did not. Everything about him was too much: his broad nose, his fleshy lips, and his ridiculous hair—mullets went out in the eighties. Add on a personality that was rude, crude, and uninformed on topics other than hockey, and I remained mystified about his popularity.
If there was an apocalyptic explosion and we were the last two people on the planet, that would be the end of the human race. I would never let Ian Reid lay a finger on me.
Unfortunately, I had to hold on to his arm now. I could feel the vibration of his laughter.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“You. I didn’t know you’d been keeping tabs on all the chicks I dated. Don’t worry, your turn will come.”
“Are you familiar with the phrase ‘when hell freezes over?’” I replied.
We entered the room where the cocktail reception was going to be. It was half set up for tomorrow and already looking gorgeous. The room had beautiful vaulted ceilings and wood floors. Right now it was filled with twinkle lights and small high tables with the bright retro tablecloths that Abby had chosen.
I dropped Ian’s arm the moment etiquette allowed and made a beeline for Abby.
“Em!” She gave me a huge hug, as if we hadn’t just seen each other 90 seconds earlier. Abby was already giddy about her wedding.
“Sorry about my space-out,” I said.
“Don’t worry. I was hoping something would go wrong. Isn’t there some saying about a terrible dress rehearsal means a great opening night?”
I’d never heard such a saying, but if my mistakes made Abby happy, that was perfect.
“Doesn’t this room look great? I told you that vintage fabric would rock,” Abby said.
The purple, green, and orange paisley pattern was eye-blinding. But I’d gotten used to it as Abby and I sewed all the tablecloths.
“I’m sure you’re the first bride in history to use that seventies print.”
She giggled. “Funny. And thank you for all the work you did.”
“Glad to help.” I ducked my head modestly, but it was nice to be acknowledged.
Someone called Abby over, and Natalie Harrington, Mason’s mother, slipped into her place.
“Should we go over the last-minute details?” she asked. We walked over to one of the tables and pulled out our organizers.
“This room is almost ready,” I said. “And I double-checked with the florists. Everything is arriving on schedule: the floral arrangements here, and the bridal bouquets to the hotel.”
She nodded and wrote in her planner. “Ian’s going to pick up the boutonnieres, and the guys will get ready at Mason’s. Oh, and I checked the weather forecast—5°C and clear. Thank heavens it’s not going to snow.”
A December wedding was always risky, but Natalie already had a list of private plowing services. We had prepared for every eventuality. Both of us checked off our final items.
“That’s it then.” Natalie smiled. “Personally, I believe that this wedding really came together once we fired Genevieve.”
When Natalie and I realized that the wedding planner Abby had hired was a flake, we’d offered to take over the planning process. Natalie was even more organized than me, but I knew the bride’s eclectic tastes, so together we had put together the wedding of Abby’s dreams.
Natalie smiled at me. “You look so lovely tonight. I still can’t believe someone like you is single, Em.”
Me either, but I didn’t give voice to that thought.
Next up was the rehearsal dinner at a nearby restaurant. Sophia was driving me. We bundled up against the winter weather and headed to her car.
“I enjoyed meeting Abby’s brother, Ryan,” Sophia said. “Do you think she’s upset that her father isn’t coming?”
Abby’s widowed father was an alcoholic, and they’d had a very distant relationship for years. The good news was that he had stopped drinking with the support of his new girlfriend. But they’d decided that the long trip, the stress, and the temptation of the open bar would be too much for him.
“She’s happy that Ryan is here,” I said. “Abby’s pretty independent.”
“That’s true. She’s not like us.” Sophia and I were both very close to our families.
“We’re Abby’s family,” I said.
“Found families are important,” she agreed.
“Is Henry meeting us at the restaurant?” I asked. Since I’d met Sophia’s boyfriend, Henry MacDonald, he’d gone from unknown musician to famous rock star—well, by Canadian standards anyway.
She shook her head. “He’s in a studio in Toronto to do some re-recording. He might not even make it to the wedding.”
“Really? Doesn’t that bother you?” I wondered. Their relationship seemed fairy-tale glamorous in some ways, but he was away so much. I couldn’t handle that.
But Sophia was relaxed. “Henry will be here if he can. If not, I get to spend more time with you, Abby, and all our other friends.”
Her self-assuredness was admirable. Sophia had always been a contented person, but since Henry came into her life, she’d blossomed into glowing happiness. Henry missing a wedding wouldn’t ruffle her, the same way that Henry performing in front of thousands of delirious fans or touring with his famous ex-girlfriend never bothered her. Henry and Sophia had achieved a higher level of love and trust.
Then I realized what distracted me at the rehearsal. It was the way Mason gazed at Abby—like a dog and his favourite chewed-up rope toy. True love.
Jealousy had left me preoccupied and off-kilter tonight. And I hated myself for feeling it. I loved my friends and I wanted them to be happy. But I wanted a serious relationship too. I wanted to be in love—real, permanent love. I’d known since I was a little girl that I wanted to get married and have children. Yet now I was almost 30 and still alone.
A fat, ugly tear rolled down my cheek, and I wiped it away.
“Em, are you crying? What’s wrong? Should I pull over?”
“No, I’m fine.” I tried to take a cleansing breath, but it came out like a hoarse sob.
“You’re not fine. Hold on, we’re almost there.” Sophia pulled into the restaurant parking lot and parked in a back corner.
“Okay, now we’ve got privacy.” She rooted in her purse and handed me a tissue.
“Oh, thank you.” Another sign I was losing it. I was the one with the complete first aid/repair/medical kit in my purse. But I’d forgotten about my own pack of tissues.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Sophia said.
How horrible would I seem if I admitted I was jealous that my two best friends had wonderful relationships? But Sophia’s lawyer antennae would know if I lied. Still, I tried to put myself in a better light.
“The wedding is stirring up things for me. I always thought I’d be married by now, maybe even have children. I realize I have a great life: I love my job, I have wonderful friends like you and Abby, and my parents are always there for me.”
She reached over and patted my arm. “It’s not like you’re old, Em. You’re going to find someone.”
I sighed. “Logically, I know you’re right. But I did all the right things. I fell in love with Lucas in high school and stayed with him for ten years. Anyone would have expected marriage, right?” That was something I’d worried about, whether everyone else could tell he wasn’t the marrying type.
Sophia bobbed her head. “Yes. You two seemed like a very solid couple to me.”
“And I’m not a romantic. I’m a realist. I feel like I’ve been very systematic about finding a boyfriend.”
She winced. “Maybe you should ditch your boyfriend checklist. You can’t find someone by the numbers. Nobody would ever match up a corporate lawyer and a musician; yet look how well Henry and I fit together.”
“But you two knew each other for—”
We were interrupted by a loud knocking on the car. Abby was peering through the window. She motioned for Sophia to unlock the doors, then popped into the back seat.
“Why are my bridesmaids sitting in the parking lot?” she asked.
“Um, we’re just chatting,” said Sophia, who didn’t want to betray my jealous confidences.
“We’re talking about my failure to get married,” I admitted.
“Oh. This again,” said Abby. “I thought you were dating someone new.”
“Yes, Thomas. We’ve gone out three times so far. I met him at a training seminar, but he’s not in my department.” I had a rule about not dating men I worked with.
“What’s he like?” Sophia asked.
“He’s a lot like me. He’s got a good job at Treasury Board. He’s into making long-range life goals, and he likes documentary films.”
Abby scrunched her nose. “Oh Em, you need someone less serious. Someone fun.”
She really meant that I was too serious. I’d heard that my whole life, but I couldn’t change my personality. Besides, reliable people had to pick up the slack. Abby’s wedding wouldn’t be coming together so perfectly if Natalie and I hadn’t stepped in to help.
“Besides, weren’t you just complaining about your parents?” said Abby. “You bring a guy home, and when your parents don’t approve, you break up with him.”
That was true. My parents met my last two boyfriends and disliked them enough that there was no point in continuing. They’d really loved Lucas, and I suspected they were comparing everyone to him.
Abby’s expression was wistful. “This is where not having an involved parent pays off.”
I turned to Sophia, “And you lucked out because your mother’s known Henry since he was four years old.”
Her forehead creased. “Actually, my mother wasn’t completely happy when I started dating Henry. She worried because he was still a struggling musician and I had an established law career.”
“What?” Abby squealed. “Did she think Henry was a gold digger?”
Sophia shook her head. “It wasn’t about money, exactly. More that if our incomes and lifestyles were so different, it might cause problems.”
“How did you bring her around?” I asked. Nothing I said about my boyfriends had changed my parents’ minds.
“I pointed out that Elliott had a career and lifestyle exactly like mine, and look how well that turned out.”
Elliott was Sophia’s previous boyfriend. While they were at a party, she’d found him in a bathroom with another woman!
“And that convinced her?” I asked.
Sophia smiled. “Yes. It made her realize that the most important thing was having someone who truly cared and treated me well.”
Abby’s phone buzzed, and she looked at it. “Ladies, we need to go. Everyone’s looking for us.”
We exited the car and walked towards the restaurant.
Abby turned to me. “Hey, Em, I think I’ve solved your problem. Next time bring home someone so awful that your parents will realize they’re being ridiculously picky.”
She was kidding, but that wasn’t a bad idea. But where would I find a guy that terrible?
Chapter Two: Holy Matrimony, Batman
Ian Reid
“Boys, watch out for the groom’s face,” I yelled as Carl’s stick rose towards Mason’s head. A swollen lip or stitches right now would suck. Any bride would lose it if you messed with her perfect wedding photos. Abby seemed relaxed so far, but I’d seen wedding day pressure turn normal chicks into bridezillas.
Six of us, mostly from the wedding party, were out here playing pond hockey on the morning of Mason’s wedding. Well, six of us plus Roy Wong, who was bundled in a blanket and pretending to supervise from the sidelines. I skated over and gave him a snow shower when I stopped.
“Hey, watch my drink.” Roy sheltered the thermos of coffee with Baileys that was keeping him warm. I pulled my bottle of beer out of the snow and took a drink.
“You doing okay here?” I’d offered to set him up with skates and gear, but he’d never played before.
“Skating looks so easy when you guys do it. Is this a Canadian tradition—playing hockey before a wedding?”
“Not really. Most weddings here are in the summer, so maybe golfing or partying at the lake.” I’d been to so many wedding and bachelor parties that they blurred together.
Roy held up his phone. “Well, I’ve been posting photos of all this: the pond, the snow, the pine trees, and the hockey. My friends back in Seoul are going crazy. It’s everyone’s fantasy of Canada.”
“Whatever floats your boat.”
I’d planned this game to keep Mason relaxed. He was a big worrier and waiting around all day would have made him a stress case.
“Smitty, I’m open,” I called as I skated back out. Smitty and Carl played beer league with me and Mason. Greg Powers was an old friend who’d played minor hockey with me and Mason. Ryan Boyko was out here too; he was Abby’s brother.
“You’re a pretty good player,” I told Ryan as we skated up the ice.
He laughed. “Yeah, well, I’m from Timmins. You know the joke, right?”
“What joke?”
“Guy says, ‘Timmins. That’s in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere. Only whores and hockey players in Timmins.’ His boss goes, ‘Hey, my wife comes from Timmins.’ ‘Oh,’ the guy says, ‘What position does she play?’”
I laughed loudly even though I’d heard that old chestnut many times. But life felt good right now. Pond hockey was pure and relaxing. Was it the fresh air or the freedom to play like a kid again?
I circled around and picked the puck off Greg. Mason took a pass from me and headed towards the open net.
Smitty called out the play-by-play, “Harrington takes the pass, he dekes Boyko—sweet move! Now he’s in on a breakaway, he shoots…and scores! What a snipe! The crowd goes wild.”
We all hooted and hollered. Mason raised his stick in a sheepish celly, but he couldn’t stop grinning.
Sure, making this game happen had been a shitload of work. Smitty and I drove out here two days ago to shovel the snow off and make sure the ice was solid enough for skating. The pond was a secret spot I’d known for years and it was a good 20-minute hike from the highway. I also had to organize drinks and food, and persuade Mason that hockey was a good idea, but whatever. Seeing Mason look happy and relaxed was worth it. He was my best friend and he deserved a great wedding day.
After the game, showered and refreshed, we headed out to the wedding chapel.
Once we got there, Greg and Ryan took off to do their usher duties, while I had to sweat it out in a back room with Mason and Roy. Roy distracted Mason by updating him on former classmates from their international school back in Seoul, so Mason could only check his watch every two minutes.
“I look okay, right?” Mason asked as he fiddled with his tie for the twentieth time.
“You look great.” I yanked on my own tie, which felt tight. Weddings always made me antsy. Too much focus on getting married, true love, and all that shit I didn’t believe in. People asking when I was going to tie the knot. An honest answer, never, was treated like a joke. “Oh, you just haven’t met the right woman yet,” all the older ladies would coo, as if there was some perfect partner out there. Bullshit.
“Are you sure I look okay?” Mason repeated.
“Bud, relax. It doesn’t matter how you look. Abby loves you; she’s not going to jam out now,” I said. Mason and Abby had been together for almost three years now, and he still acted like their relationship was a dream he might wake up from.
Finally, some lady poked her head in. “It’s time to head out there.”
We walked to the front of the room, which was full of family and friends. It was nearly 4:00 pm. Would Abby be on time? I sure as hell hoped so, because Mason was going full-blown panic attack soon. There was sweat beading on his forehead and his leg was twitching. He kept glancing behind us, worried that some messenger was going to run up and say she’d called everything off.
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Abby’s always late.”
He nodded. “I know. I just hoped that this one time...”
Then to my surprise, there was a commotion at the back of the room: Abby had arrived. The music began. Everyone hushed and craned their necks to get a first look at the bride.
First, Jade, Greg’s toddler daughter appeared. She was the ring bearer, which meant one less thing for me to worry about. Cute kid, but she looked nervous until she saw her dad and rushed towards him. Greg scooped her up and everyone laughed. That good vibe finally relaxed Mason.
Next Sophia walked up the aisle in a black dress holding a colourful bouquet. She wore her normal Zen look.
Then Em strutted down the aisle. She wore the same black dress, but with her curves it looked completely different. The dress veed down the front and revealed some spectacular cleavage. I heard a woman behind me tut-tutting about “inappropriate for a bridesmaid” but she was nuts. Tits like that should be on display whenever possible.
As Em walked along, she looked over the guests to make sure everyone was sitting up straight and paying attention. When she finally looked forward, she had saved her most special scowl for me.
Em’s hate-on for me was something I found pretty funny. Because truly, she was my perfect woman—pretty face, long hair, and a body that could cause penises to rise from the dead. My perfect woman—until she opened her mouth. Em was beyond bossy and always complaining about something, usually me. Even Mason had noticed and wondered why.
I really didn’t give a shit. It wasn’t like she’d ever lower herself to date me. Of course, that didn’t stop me from fantasizing about her, because I needed something to do when I wasn’t listening to her bitch. The only way I could imagine us coming together was a hate-fuck. She’d fuck me because she was mad about something or someone else. Like when she split with that asshole Lucas. He couldn’t stand me because I regularly handed him his lunch at hockey, so screwing me would have been the perfect way to send a big fuck-you to her ex.
But after the breakup, Em was so unhappy and low energy, I couldn’t bring myself to hit on her. What would be the point of nailing a sad Em? Her fire and spirit made her hot. That glare she was sending me now made me imagine taking Em up against a wall with her cursing me out right up until the time I made her come so hard she saw stars.
I exhaled. Unless I wanted to go through Mason and Abby’s ceremony with a semi, I needed to stop fantasizing about sex with Em. But that cleavage view wasn’t helping.
Then Mason let out a sigh as Abby walked down the aisle. She looked great—Abby always got done up fancy. Her wedding dress was kind of plain with a sparkly belt. It also veed way down the front, but Abby had more of a skinny model body so that was okay. The same dress on Em would have caused traffic accidents.
I half-listened to the minister, or whoever she was, droning on about commitment and responsibility now, two subjects I avoided when it came to relationships. Mason could not stop smiling. For him, marriage was the right thing to do and he was the happiest I’d ever seen him.
The ceremony was mercifully short. While we signed the papers, Em was wiping her tears with Kleenex. After it was over, I headed down the aisle with Em on my arm and a perfect view of that sweet cleavage.
She sniffled and blinked. Jesus, was she going to start crying again?
“How come chicks cry at weddings?” I asked. “Is it ’cause they’re pissed they’re not getting married too?”
That stopped the potential tears fast.
“Oh my God, do you not have a single human emotion?” Em demanded, her hand clenching on my forearm. “I’m crying because I’m so happy for Abby and Mason. Because their ceremony was so beautiful.”
“When I see shit that’s beautiful, you don’t catch me crying.” I tried really hard not to look down the front of her dress.
“I can’t even imagine what you think is beautiful. Maybe a cold beer,” Em replied.
Once we got to the back, we did the photos. Thank God Abby had changed her mind about outdoor photos because it was now snowing.
The wedding dinner went pretty well. Ryan gave a little speech about when Abby was a kid. Nobody mentioned that her alkie dad hadn’t showed up.
Abby and me were the same: people who were glad to leave their crap behind them. We had shiny lives now and we didn’t need to go poking in our shitty pasts. Too many people were into therapy and oversharing. They’d tell me about the crap their parents laid on them and blame all their problems on their childhood. I had zero patience for that bullshit. If they wanted to know what a real horror show childhood was like, they should have spent five minutes with Deanna Reid. Best thing my mother ever did was to fuck off and leave me with my grandparents.
Then it was my turn to toast Mason. I warned Abby that I wasn’t really a speech guy, but she said that wasn’t a problem. “Just speak from the heart. That’s what Mason wants.”
I was still nervous, though. I was an action guy, not a talker.
“Me, Mase, and Gary have known each other ever since our Peewee hockey days. When Mase showed up, he was a big kid and we thought, ‘Uh oh, here’s trouble.’ But if you know Mase, you know what a nice guy he is. The kind of player who checks you into the boards and skates back to see if you’re okay.”
I wondered about the next part, because who needs to hear their faults at their wedding? But it was an important truth too.
“Mase is a sensitive guy too, and sometimes life is harder for him than most people. But since he’s been with Abby, Mase is more relaxed. He can show everyone what his best friends already know, that he’s a character guy: smart, kind, and loyal. And when you meet a woman who makes you a better person, well, you gotta tie that down.
“Anyways, I’m proud that after all these years, we’re still best friends. Mase has always been a positive guy, but ever since he met Abby, he’s been so happy—sickeningly happy really. You’re a lucky man.”
Mason grinned up at me. I raised my glass. “So, I wanna propose a toast to Mason, and wish Abby and Mason all the best.”
Phew, that was over. I sat down and took off my jacket. Someone else was talking now.
“Jesus, I was sweating,” I told Roy. “I’m not really into public speaking.”
He laughed. “Really? You seemed relaxed up there. You did a great job.”
I shook my head. “Guys like you and Greg are around, and they ask the guy who barely graduated high school to give the speech. You probably do shit like this all the time at work. My longest sentence at work is ‘Hey bud, watch out for the live cables.’”
“What is it you do? For some reason, I thought you played pro hockey.”
“That was years ago. I’m a carpenter now,” I said.
Roy nodded. “Oh really? But did you play in the NHL before?”
“Nah. Highest I got was AHL, that’s one level below. We still get paid but we’re not makin’ millions like guys in the bigs.”
After dinner, the head table dispersed so they could rearrange the room to make a dance floor. I went over to the table with the guys from the hockey team.
“Reeder,” they called out. “How you doin’?” We all slapped hands and I sat down to chat.
“Good speech,” Carl told me. “No b.s., that’s what I liked about it.”
We chatted about hockey. Most of the guys were Sens fans and they liked to give me the gears about my Leafs allegiance.
Then Henry MacDonald came over with Sophia and Em. He sometimes played goal for us, but for months he’d been out touring with his rock band. There was a chorus of Hey Mac as everyone welcomed him. He sat down and pulled Sophia onto his lap.
“How goes the rock god life?” Smitty asked.
Mac smiled. “I wouldn’t know. I’m just a keyboard player.”
“Bullshit,” I said. “You’re playing arenas. But the real question is when are you gonna start playing hockey arenas again—in goal for us.”
“I should be around in January and February,” he said. “I’ll check the schedule and see when we line up.”
Mac was a good guy. Even though he was a big deal now, he still liked to kick back and relax with a hockey game. Decent goalie too.
The DJ started up with fancy lighting and dance music.
“Hey, it’s a Parade song,” Sophia said. That was the band Mac opened for on his big tour. She and Mac got up to dance, leaving Em sitting there and tapping her foot to the beat.
“You wanna dance?” I asked her.
For one moment, I thought she was going to say yes. She really wanted to dance. But then Em remembered that she couldn’t stand me.
“No, thank you,” she said primly.
“I’ll dance with you, Ian,” said Kim. She motioned towards her boyfriend. “Carl won’t ever dance.”
I liked dancing. I felt more comfortable doing active shit than sitting around.
Kim and I danced for a while. After Kim, I danced with a few other chicks. The DJ was good, and the reception had a relaxed vibe, maybe because there was an open bar. Whatever, this was a pretty decent wedding, and I was happy for Mason and Abby.
By the end of the evening, I was happy to kick back with a beer at the hockey table.
“Time for all the single ladies to line up,” the DJ called out.
Em was busy talking, so I nudged her shoulder. “You’re being paged.”
She looked around. “Oh, it’s time for the bouquet toss. Let’s go, Sophia.”
As she rose, I caught her wrist. “Unless you’ve already got something lined up with Abby, go to the back.”
“Why?” she asked.
“You want to catch it, don’t you? Be the next bride.”
Em’s eyes narrowed as she tried to figure out what my angle was.
“Or you can duke it out in front.” I jerked my head towards the chicks already jockeying for position.
Em still didn’t trust me, but she followed Sophia, who looked like she wanted to keep walking right out of the room. My feelings exactly.
There was a shitload of shoving and jostling—never get between a chick and a chance to get married—then Abby amped up the drama by pretending to throw the bouquet. When she finally pitched it, the bouquet arced high over the heads of the women and straight towards Sophia. I heard Mac’s sharp intake of breath. But Em leaped up and snagged the bouquet first. She grinned and raised it in triumph. Abby squealed happily and ran over to hug Em.
“Oh my gosh, how did you know?” asked a flushed and happy Em when she plunked herself down beside me.
I shrugged. Why bother explaining? When I played hockey it was my job to predict crap like that—the strength and skills of players, the physics of puck movement, and a million other things. Oh, right, and do it all in a fraction of a second so I didn’t get flattened when I touched the puck. Abby was athletic, and tonight she was amped. If she was facing forward, she probably could have hit the parking lot.
“Okay, now it’s the garter toss. I’ll pay you back by figuring out where you should stand,” Em said with zero logic. “I think your best chance is to stand on one side. Mason can toss it your way and you can use your good reflexes to snag it.”
I pointed out the obvious. “I don’t want to catch the garter.”
“Why not? What have you got against marriage?”
“Marriage is fine for some people.” I motioned with my bottle of beer towards Mason and Abby, who were making their way to a chair at the front. That goofy grin had been on his face all night.
Em shook her head. “You just haven’t met the right woman yet.”
I couldn’t help a derisive snort. Like I didn’t know my own mind.
Em shooed Mac, Carl, Smitty, and me up to the front. I did a quick calculation and figured that the best place to stand was beside Mac. A goalie with instinctive reflexes would be able to snatch any objects that came within a foot of me.
The DJ played a peeler tune, and a blushing Mason pulled the garter off Abby’s long leg. I saw him scan the crowd and smile at me. Oh shit. Then he turned away from us.
The lacy garter flew through the air directly at me. I tried to sidestep, but Smitty was in my way. I waited for Mac to do his thing, but the garter landed on my shoulder. Damn. I picked the garter off and swung it high in the air. Mason hooted in laughter.
“Gotcha, Reeder,” he called out.
I walked back to the table with Mac. “I thought a goalie’d catch the g.d. garter by instinct.”
He tried not to smile. “Yeah, me too. So I closed my eyes.”
Guess there was no fucking with fate.
“You did want to catch it,” Em said when I got back to the table. There was no point arguing with her.
I spun the garter on my finger. “You know, I went to a wedding in the States where the guy who got the garter put it on the leg of the chick who got the bouquet. The higher up the garter goes, the longer the marriage lasts. Wanna give it a try for Abby and Mase?”
Em’s eyes narrowed and her knees clamped together. “You’re making that up! It’s just another excuse to objectify women. You are the saddest example of a man that I know. I feel sorry for every woman who has ever dated you.”
Professor Prickly was getting ready to launch into another lecture, so I stopped listening until she poked me.
The look on her face was weird. Like she was seeing me in a whole new way. And not a good way either. It was the kind of look that people gets when they remember I drive a pickup truck and they have to move on the weekend. And they own a piano.
“Hey, Ian.” Her voice was now soft and wheedling.
“I’m not doing it,” I said.
Em huffed, and her voice went back to pissed. “I haven’t even asked you anything yet.”
“Whatever. Couple of hours ago you wouldn’t even lower yourself to dance with me, but now that you need a favour, it’s all ‘Hey, Ian.’” I imitated her sugar-sweet falsetto.
She was torn between ripping a strip off me and getting her way. Then she stood up. “Fine. Let’s dance.”
I hid my smile. “If you insist. But this doesn’t mean I’m gonna say yes to your big request.”
Em didn’t even look back at me—she marched towards the dance floor. But that was okay, because I enjoyed her back view almost as much as the front.
The last notes of a Drake song faded. The DJ cooed into the mic, “And now, I’m going to slow things down. It’s time to find your sweetheart, hold her tight, and sway to some sexy tunes.”
Okay, now I wanted to see Em’s face.
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