I will, I will, I will, Meghan repeated to herself as she parked in James’ driveway. It was past time to tell him about John and waiting was making things worse.

“Hey!” James called from the living room. His pulse pounded traitorously. Meghan turned the corner and his heart stopped, like an engine dying. Her hair was down and curled, bouncing against bare shoulders and those big green eyes he loved were lined and the lashes curled, darkened with mascara. She looked runway-ready despite her tank top and shorts.

“You, er… wow,” he said, trying to keep his tongue in his mouth. A sexy little dress and she’d be like those girls in the club that made his pants tight. Only she’d also be Meghan.

“What’s the occasion?”

“They had a makeup artist at the spa, so we went before we left.” Meghan bobbed her head, feeling a little self-conscious for being all done up with nowhere to go.

James reconsidered the plans he’d made with Stamkos and the guys for a drunken boys night out. They were designed to help him forget the girl standing in front of him. After a week of thinking about nothing but Meghan and how unworthy he was, James was sick of his own whining and desperate for a distraction. Seeing her now, especially like this, made his plan pitifully futile.

“How was your trip?” James was on his feet, coming over for a hug. He hoped to seem normal.

Meghan stepped into his arms. He was so big and solid, his arms so long they were around her like the chain on an anchor. “It was great. Thank you for the flowers, my mom was really impressed.”

“Just your mom?”

“Me too,” she said, tipping her face up toward his.

He could kiss her. In fact James had probably never stood like this with a woman he wasn’t allowed to kiss. But that guy needed to go. He’d kissed Meghan once upstairs in anger and once on the boat in hope. The next time he kissed her - if there ever was a next time - would be because she wanted him to.

Meghan watched a shadow flicker across James’ bright eyes, one she’d seen a thousand times in real life and on TV. He was deciding. She held perfectly still and willed him not to do something rash.

After a tense moment, he let go. This had to stop. “I’m glad you had fun. I’m going out with the boys tonight. Don’t wait up, okay?”

Bring home a girl, Meghan thought. It went against everything she’d told James but in a purely selfish way, she meant, Make this easy for me.

On the outside, she smiled encouragingly. “I never do.”
____

John had untucked and re-tucked his shirt so many times it was a wrinkled mess. He dug through the closet for a new one that would match his dark slacks. Meghan had told him not to dress up, which is exactly what he’d told her when she met his parents. Finally he went with a green polo and gray slacks, tucked in with a belt. This called for a belt.

Since moving to Long Island, John had made the mistake of meeting a few too many girls’ parents. The girls he dated always wanted to bring them to a game and show John off a little. It was good for the ego but bad for the emotions. He’d meet them after the game as if he and their daughter were in a serious relationship. Most were not hockey fans but everyone had Google - they knew he made money, was highly touted. The stars in their eyes had nothing to do with John’s personality. Every one of them was nice and polite and every one of those relationships had ended when John stopped trying.

This was different. Meghan’s parents knew hockey and hockey players. They knew about him and they even knew about James, which put John in the position of really needing to impress them. If he was going to be the reason Meghan changed her lifelong relationship with her best friend, then he’d better be worth it.

John checked the address twice and pulled into the driveway. The house was two stories, painted taupe with blue shutters and nicely landscaped. Pops of colorful flowers bloomed along the front porch, matching the bouquet John carried in his hand. Meghan came darting out.

“Hi!”

Before John could hug her, she pulled him up the stairs, around a few chairs and stopped between two windows. Then she gave him a hard, searing kiss that stole his breath.

“Hey,” he broke away, eyes darting around nervously.

“Only spot on the porch they can’t see,” she assured him.

“How do… why do you know that?”

“No reason,” she smiled. It went through him like a knife. Just a night apart and he felt weak to be near her again. Her hair was full-blown bombshell and she was wearing more skillfully applied makeup.

“You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks. There was a makeup thing at the spa. How do I smell?” Meghan tipped her head back and John took a deep breath of the skin at her throat.

“Delicious,” he murmured. Then he kissed the same spot.

“Okay. That can be dessert.”

They straightened their clothes and Meghan led him inside. Her parents were moving around the kitchen in a stiff, too-quick way that said they had been trying to sneak a peek.

“Mom and Dad, this is John. John this is my dad, Ben.” John shook hands with a tall, rangy guy with a thick head of brown hair and Meghan’s jaw. “And my mom, Caroline.”

“Happy birthday,” John said, offering her the flowers. Her mother had the same green eyes that had stopped him the first day he met Meghan. They too were made up from the spa salon and her shoulder-length haircut was styled into something stage-ready. The strong resemblance between Meghan and her mother took John by surprise.

“Oh thank you for dinner! That was so sweet. It’s nice to finally meet you.” She gave him a hug. “Would you like a drink? Wine, cocktail….”

“Mom, I got it. Hands off my date.” Meghan appeared with a full glass for John that matched the claret-colored liquid in her own wine glass.

Caroline laughed and held up her own drink. “Cheers, then.”

Meghan had come over early and helped her mom with tarragon chicken, quinoa and lentil salad, grilled summer squash and wild rice. They plated the hot dishes coming out of the oven and passed them toward the small table. The house had no formal dining room, which John prefered. He never used his anyway.

Dinner was delicious and only mildly interrogational. Meghan’s parents asked politely about Long Island, junior hockey and his pro team. Gone were the usual questions about how they spent time on road trips, what was it like to get beaten up every night. Instead they talked about people they knew in common, like Steven and PK, and specifics they remembered from World Juniors. Meghan turned the conversation toward other things, like the golf John and her father had in common. That set off a golf discussion twenty minutes long. After that, her dad was not too shy to ask about their mutual favorite hockey team, the Leafs. Cue another twenty minutes on fixing a franchise.

“That series against Boston last year…,” Ben said.

“Now that I’ve lost in the playoffs, I can say it’s awful. But losing like that?” John shook his head. “It gives me nightmares.”

Meghan watched John relax as the meal went on. Familiar territory like hockey and golf were all John wanted to talk about anyway, so it didn’t matter that he was debating the draft lottery with the father of the girl he was sleeping with. Her parents also behaved, probably because they were stunned into silence by how nice and un-Neal-like John was. Caroline did manage to deliver a few stealthy, meaningful looks toward her daughter. After the talk they’d had at the spa, Meghan had no doubt her mother was taking mental notes.

They like him. Of course they like him, Meghan thought. I like him.

John was listening to her father’s thoughts on hybrid icing when he felt Meghan’s hand on his leg. The touch was quick but firm, and high enough to be very suggestive. He pressed his lips together to hide a smile. When her mother suggested dessert, John allowed himself half a butterscotch pudding to celebrate. He’d nailed it.

Caroline insisted no one help with clearing the table, but of course John got up anyway and carried a load of dishes into the kitchen.

“Thank you for dinner, it was delicious,” he said.

Her mom looked ready to give him leftovers. “I know you boys don’t get many home-cooked meals during the season.”

“I do okay. Some of my teammates are married and I always seem to be around when their wives are cooking,” he smiled.

John said goodbye and thank you a hundred times over. Ben invited him golfing - usually a moment where John would panic - but Meghan cut it with a loud snoring noise. So John agreed. He also agreed to come back for more dinners.

“Or whenever. You can stop by.” Caroline insisted.

“Mom! I told you, hands off my date!” Meghan pushed John toward the front door calling, “Thanks, love you!” over her shoulder.

Outside, John was parked next to her car. He wasn’t sure of the plan for the rest of the night, but the way Meghan had groped him a little gave him ideas. Lots of ideas. Spending the week with her had spoiled him rotten and after one night away he was itching to get her back into his bed. At his driver’s door he turned, intending to invite her over.

She was already moving back toward the house. “Hang on one minute, okay?”

Meghan knew her parents were watching from the kitchen, so she might as well do the last thing she’d come here for tonight. She darted back into the house so quickly she caught them both leaning toward the window.

“Hi!” Her dad straightened up guiltily.

Meghan looked at them expectantly. “So? Yes?”

“Yes,” they said in unison.

“Because I’m about to screw up everything else by telling James that I really like a hockey player who is leaving in one month and isn’t him.”

“Oh honey,” her mother started, but Meghan kept going.

“I’ll probably have to move back in here.”

“Why not stay with John?” her dad asked innocently.

“BEN!” her mother gasped.

“DAD!” Meghan almost fell to the floor. What was happening that her father was saying ‘shack up with your short-term lover’?

“What?! We’re not that old, pumpkin. If you want to stay with your dorky boyfriend, that’s okay with me. But of course you can move back with us too.”

Meghan hugged them both, made a grossed out face at her dad and ran back outside.

Ben turned to Caroline. “A hundred bucks says she goes to New York.”

Caroline scoffed. “I’ll take your money, but she’s already gone.”

In the car, John was wondering about the conversation inside. Meghan’s parents knew James, but he wasn’t sure they knew James was after Meghan. If they didn’t, John might seem like an intruder in their daughter’s life. If they did, he hoped to seem like a far better alternative. Either way, the calm confidence he’d managed during the meal was being replaced by nervous insecurity. Come on, come on.

Meghan came bounding out of the house right to his window. “Can I come over?”
____

James was out. In fact he was OUT in capital letters, trying hard to project the way he wanted to feel into existence. Stamkos, Dan and a few of their other friends had pre-gamed a bit at the house before heading to a few choice Whitby-area hotspots. Saturday night, no workout tomorrow - nothing to do but go big tonight.

They were in VIP at a second club when midnight closed in. Steven was getting drunk but not rowdy and James couldn’t take anymore of him ignoring the hot waitress who so obviously wanted to suck his dick. It was just depressing. Vodka tonic in hand, James wandered out into the masses.

It didn’t take long.

“Hey, wanna join us?” The voice came from on of three girls crowded around a high-top table. They wore different colors of matching outfits - short skirts, low tops, high shoes. The redhaired one dropped delicately to her feet, landing like a cat, offering James a chair. He half-sat on it, the better to keep his lower body near hers.

“I’m James,” he said.

The redhead smiled. “I know.”

A server arrived immediately, as they always did when a VIP emerged from behind the velvet rope. James ordered shots for everyone and another round for the girls. They giggled appreciatively. A new hip-hop song came on and two of them started dancing tableside, like a private show. James admired the roll of their hips, taking those form-fitting dresses along for the ride. One had a great ass, the other nice lips. Between them and the redhead, he wondered if he could have them all.

If that would be enough. The thought crept into his mind like a ghost. He took a slug of vodka to wash it away.

This is fun, he told himself. This is how the fucking world works. His arm went around the redhead’s narrow waist, her perfume dulling yet another sense that James didn’t need tonight. They spoke closely, quietly, and James didn’t bother to remember anything she said. Nurse or teacher or CEO, it didn’t matter. He was glancing down her dress, reaching for a shot glass, letting his hand slip onto her ass. She was ignoring her friends, trying to claim the prize for herself. Her hand that had rested on his knee at the beginning was now almost high enough for a happy ending.

She licked a drop from her lip and said, “I live nearby.”

James tossed back the shot, willing it to work. Fire ran down his throat and spread through his chest; it should have razed any hesitation. Instead when it was gone he just felt cold. The redhead blinked her bedroom eyes expectantly. James got the distinct impression that she never had to ask twice.

“I’m gonna find my boys,” he said. Her mouth fell open in surprise, that pretty, ripe mouth that could have opened for a lot of other things tonight. James nodded as politely as he could with bile rising in his throat. “Drinks are on me. Have a good night.”

He barreled through a crowd too drunk to realize he was rushing. He didn’t stop till he’d put a hundred people between himself and that girl.

Fuck. James found a few unoccupied inches near a wall and stood there. Sometimes a shot went down wrong and wanted to come back up. That’s how this felt: wrong. Meghan’s voice was in his head - saying he was better than this. But he wasn’t good enough, not for her. Not yet. And James knew he never would be if he kept going. Sometimes in order to win, you needed to change your game. Obviously James’ old ways were not working - not short term, not long term.

Thinking about her was painful. Knowing what she’d say if she saw him now was worse.

James went to the bar, ordered three shots and carried them back to the VIP area. One look at Stammer’s face told James all he needed to know. The guy had the opposite problem but he had it just as bad.

“I know that face,” James said. “Stammer had better not be blubbering about his girlfriend, dude.”

Steven glared in return. “So what if I am, Nealer?”

James put a shot right into his blond friend’s hand. “I said no chicks tonight, remember?”

He raised his glass to Steven and Dan, ignoring the furious accusation on Stamkos’ face. So James had flirted with some easy pickings - it wasn’t like he’d done anything. Now he was back with his boys and it was time to stop bitching.

“To tonight,” James said, staring right back into blue eyes. “Don’t forget it, Stammer.”
____

Meghan followed John to Mississagua, thinking about how dumb it was for them to take two cars everywhere. Soon that would stop. Maybe her dad was right and there would be nowhere to go they didn’t go together. Still Meghan did not want to impose or assume. Leaving James’ house would be a different decision and it wasn’t John’s responsibility to clean up her mess.

He would though, she knew. It was no surprise that John had charmed her parents. In the process he’d charmed her all over again. Meghan had almost forgotten what their first few nervous dates were like. It might be time to recapture some of that tonight.

Inside the house, she put her purse on the big chair in John’s living room. He was already flipping through TV channels.

Another hot Saturday night, hanging out with my…

Boyfriend.

With a giggle she pushed her shorts off right in the middle of the living room. John stopped dead to watch. When choosing her underwear earlier she’d considered this - would he like them? What did John find sexy? The answer was easy: Me. Now that John had seen her naked plenty of times, Meghan wanted to keep surprisingly him. She’d chosen cute red cheekie panties with a little lace ruffle down the the center of her backside. The fabric stretched high across the rise of each cheek. She kept her white tank top on, sat right down next to him and took the remote away.

John flexed his now empty hand, thinking about filling it with any part of Meghan’s body. Instead he got up and stripped off his own clothes, the ones he’d chosen to impress her parents. Meghan laid herself out in a long, scantily clad line and gave up changing channels. When he was down to his shorts, John settled in behind her. He pushed his hand under that white tank top and helped himself to a palmful of her breast.

He nuzzled her neck. “I guess your parents liked me.”

“Something like that,” Meghan said.

____

Home. The cab left James on the sidewalk outside his house. It swayed beneath his feet like a carnival ride.

He was drunk. It seemed the only safe activity in the club - no girls, no temptation, just a table and his boys and bottle service. Now as he trudged through a mental fog toward the front door, he was back to thinking about the one thing he wanted to forget.

Meghan.

James wanted her to be home. He wanted to wrap himself around her and make promises that she’d hold him to, that she’d help him keep. More than anything he wanted to pack her and take her to Pittsburgh, toss her into the other big, empty house he owned and let her magic work there as it had here. A pair of her shoes were inside the front door, her mail was on the side table. Even the mirror on the wall was one she’d picked out.

“Meg?” He called. If he woke her up, he’d carry her back to bed. There was no answer, so he went room to room in an order that made no sense. Why would she be in the dining room at two in the morning? Stairs were tough and they took a minute. When James reached the top he went straight for her door.

Empty.

Extra clothes were strewn across her bed as if she’d chosen between a few outfits. A receipt from the dry cleaner marked the page in her book. Everything smelled like her, everything was softer in this room than the rest of the house. James sat down on the edge of her bed.

Our house, our room, our bed, he thought. It seemed easier than ever now except for one thing: she was somewhere else.

He knew she wouldn’t be here. She was never here anymore - she was scared, uncomfortable, unhappy around him. He’d ruined everything by asking for something he didn’t deserve, by catching on too late. If ever a chance existed for him and Meghan, it had long since passed.

James stood. Frustration was mixing with the alcohol in his bloodstream, making his head spin. He stumbled to his room, taking one of Meghan’s pillows with him. The bed looked less inviting but just as flat. He thumped down on it, curled into the pillow he held and passed out.
____