The Penalty Box - Teagan Kade Page 0,46
a fine agent, but he’s old school—all business polish and pressed suits. It’s not my world.
Jamie picks up his satchel and nods to us in turn. “I’ll going to head off, but read, think, and get back to me. I got to say it’s kind of bittersweet seeing the last of the King kids off, but I guess all good things must come to an end.”
“Until the next generation arrives,” I tell him.
He looks to Linnea. “Is there something I should know?”
“No,” she replies quickly shaking her head and extending out the word. “Definitely not.”
“Yet,” I add.
Jamie sees the look of surprise on Linnea’s face. “Right, I’m going to leave you two to hash that out. Speak soon.”
He heads off.
“Are we starting a family, are we?” she asks, more of a tease than a serious question. “I wouldn’t say no to a rug rat or two, especially if they get your genes, but for the time being I think we’re best holding off, wouldn’t you say?”
“Diapers, sleep deprivation, and dummies? Ti and Maya can have it, thank you very much,” I agree.
I pick up a folder, Linnea doing likewise.
“Shall we?” I ask.
She flips open the first. “We shall.”
*
It’s exciting, in a way, looking through the offers and seeing what each team has come up with. I wasn’t expecting such generosity. There are cars and condos, sponsorship deals lined up before I’ve even hit the ice, sketches and mock-ups and graphics galore. It’s a bit unreal, to be honest.
Given what I’m hearing from Linnea, her offers aren’t quite as grand, but she seems happy enough, oh-ing and ah-ing from time to time, detailing her knowledge of each city and trying to place us there, plan out how it would work.
Eventually we’ve narrowed the offers down to two teams each.
Phoenix, having prepared a breakfast of champions for us, slides the plates across. “I went a bit creative with the French toast. Tell me what you think.”
I take a bite. “Delicious.”
“Phoenix!” Heather calls from upstairs. “Come back to bed!”
“That’s my cue,” he smiles, his shirt half off before he’s hit the stairs.
I look to Linnea. “So, who did you choose?”
She shuffles between the folders. “Boston’s starting a new team next year. Looking over the roster it sounds pretty promising, and it would be good to start fresh, build it from the ground up.” She moves to the other folder. “The Washington Mystics also have a pretty good offer here, but I don’t know. It’s a hard choice. What about you?”
I fold up my two folders. “You’re never going to believe this, but, drum roll, the Bruins and the Capitals.”
“The what? Non-hockey speak, please.”
“Boston and Washington.”
She shakes her head in disbelief. “No fucking way. You just made that up.”
I open the first folder to show her. “Hand on heart, they were the best offers. The Caps are first in the Metro Division, the Bruins holding, so either way it’s looking promising.”
“We can be together.”
“Or four-hundred miles apart,” I counter.
She puts down the folder she was holding, looping her arm around mine and letting her head fall to my shoulder. “We will make it work, husband.”
I’m still not used to hearing that.
Linnea senses my surprise. “You good?”
“Fine.”
She lifts herself from my shoulder. “What is it? Are you having doubts?”
“About which team to choose?”
“About us, silly. About our marriage.”
“Of course not.”
“How long do you think it will last, honestly?”
It’s a strange question. She lets go of my arm as I turn to face her in full. “You seriously want me to answer that?”
“Yes.”
I study her eyes but can’t make out where she is going with this. I want her to be certain, beyond any doubt, I’m in this for the long game. I don’t want there to be any uncertainty.
I take her face in my hands and smile. “Babe,” I tell her, doing my best to make my tone level and even, “forever. It’s going to last forever.”
She smiles back. “Sorry, I just…”
“You don’t have to apologize. I get it. It all happened so fast. Hell, we barely had time to breathe, to process it all, but I’m not sorry we got married. I’ve never been so sure, so positive about a single decision in my whole life, and the thought of spending it with you, even when we’re old and the highlight of our week is bingo night, makes me so happy it hurts.”
“Bingo night?” she laughs. “Forget that. We’ll be back in bed at the retirement village making sweet, sweet love.”
“Even when my balls