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The Boys 'Round Here

Thirty-Three

“Let me.”

“It’s fine, I’ve got it.”

“Meghan.” John stopped moving. They’d just deplaned and stepped into the gate area at JFK Airport in New York.

“It’s a carry-on!” she insisted with a laugh. “I can wheel it.”

He rolled his eyes. A girl he once dated always asked him to hold her purse and now Meghan wouldn’t even let him take her suitcase to the curb. They joined the flow of people leaving the terminal and passed through customs. John had sent a text so when the sliding doors from the baggage area opened, there was Matt Moulson’s car waiting at the pick-up lane curb. He was the same size and John but with much longer hair, thicker brows and a bigger smile.

“You must be Meghan because you’re way too pretty for this fool.” Matt folded Meghan right into a hug, suitcase handle still in her grip. “He made you carry your own bag? He’s still new at this whole ‘girls’ thing.”

“Oh, he does alright,” she smirked, moving aside. She expected the bro-hug - a handshake on one side, hug on the other - but the two guys embraced like brothers.

“Hey man, thanks for picking us up,” John said.

“Are you kidding? A quiet car then half an hour of adult company? I’ve been here since five AM.” It was a joke, but Matt did enjoy the momentary respite from his family life. His wife Alicia was home with their daughter Mila, who had just turned one. Matt chatted happily about the baby girl halfway home before saying, “I am turning into Alicia and her friends. I swear all they talk about is if the baby pooped, what color the poop was, when can she take another nap. It’s a whole new life.” Matt shifted the conversation back to the off-season, asking John how the summer had been. John glanced back at Meghan.

“Oh yeah, right. So pretty good, then?” Matt said, seeing her in the rearview mirror.

“Pretty good,” she replied with a grin.

The Moulson house was a large, white affair with two levels and a circular driveway in Garden City. John lived a few minutes away but wanted to visit his second family first. A very pretty and quite pregnant blond woman opened the door, baby on her hip.

“Mila!” John rushed up, hugged them both and accepted the proffered baby. Alicia obviously trusted him because she made right for Meghan with her own arms open. Her round baby belly made the hug a bit distant but it was genuine nonetheless.

“Oh my God a real live girl. John, I half-thought you’d gone off the deep end.”

Mila grabbed a handful of his ear and started pulling. John said, “I think I’m developing quite a way with women, thank you very much.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Alicia told Meghan, ushering her into the house. “Are you guys hungry? Matt fired up the grill so we’d better eat before he burns the place down.”

“Meghan’s great at grilling,” John announced, attention still riveted on the baby.

Matt kissed his wife before heading toward the sliding glass door to the yard. “He makes her cook and carry her own bags. Good thing you married me, honey.”

It was bright inside the house, new paint not yet marred by a mobile child. Instead baby toys, supplies, pictures and apparatuses were tucked into every corner. Alicia showed Meghan the living room, yard and dining room. “John eats here - what - twice a week when you’re playing at home? Three times?”

“You are not helping, Alicia,” he said drily. She laughed as she left the room. Alone for a moment, John walked over to where Meghan leaned against the kitchen island. He’d worn a gray t-shirt and black shorts, his hair unstyled in the messy way she loved, but right now all she could see was him with a baby in his arms. Mila had huge blue eyes and soft dark hair - her dad’s color on her mom’s features. John held her in one arm, his broad shoulders curled protectively around. With his face angled down and a smile on his lips, Meghan thought it might be the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. He reached her and they formed a little circle.

“Say ‘Hi Meghan,” he told Mila. The little girl gurgled. John looked up through his lashes at Meghan, who had her mouth knitted carefully shut. “Say, ‘Come to New York, Meghan.’”

“Not fair!” she slapped his free hand, which reached around her waist and pulled them close. Meghan brushed the back of her fingers against Mila’s soft cheek. The baby grabbed one and held.

“She likes you,” John said. “It runs in the family.”

“Alicia and Matt don’t even know me yet.”

“I mean my family. Mila’s my goddaughter.”

POW, right in the uterus. Meghan had no idea if she wanted kids someday and that time was far away but her hormones waited for no permission. They saw a gorgeous guy, obvious Future Hot Dad, holding a baby and looking hopeful and decided this was time for a party.

“Oh John,” was the best Meghan could do. She tilted her face up and kissed him. Mila made a raspberry noise right on cue, sending them into giggles. The baby clapped at her own success. “She’s perfect.”

“Not that perfect - she needs a diaper change. Mila, want Meghan to hold you?” he said with a big grin. Alicia appeared at the word “diaper” as moms are known to do, and took her bundle of joy off for a pit stop. John and Meghan watched her go.

Hands empty, he wrapped both arms around her waist this time. John knew it was a risk bringing Meghan here. Sure he was pushing them along, but he was far from baby serious and didn’t want her to panic. He just wanted her to see that life in New York was just like life at home - full of friends and family, where not everything revolved around hockey. It was all just related. Plus Mila was pretty amazing and Meghan didn’t seem the type to run away. He was about to say as much when Matt pushed the sliding door open.

He made at face at seeing Meghan and John so close. “Careful, that’s how poop machines get made.”

Lunch was grilled chicken and salmon with veggies and baked potatoes at a round table with a big umbrella on the Moulson’s deck. Mila toddled around, still a little unsure on her feet but fascinated by the world outside the railing. John hooked his foot around Meghan’s ankle as they ate. Meghan saw Alicia notice and the older woman smiled to herself.

They were a perfect couple - funny, nice, clearly in sync with each other’s every move. Matt passed his wife the ketchup before she asked for it, Alicia put the salt immediately out of Matt’s reach. They joked about the baby, each other and most of all John, who wore a permanent blush throughout the meal. Meghan squeezed his arm - if the Moulson’s were meant to charm her, it was working. Looking around the yard, deck and house it seemed to Meghan a life very much like the one in Whitby. Most hockey players didn’t stay in their team’s cities over the summer but with Mila so comfortable and Alicia due again in October, they’d opted to stay put on Long Island. Matt was also from Mississagua and traveling his family to them was easier. “Plus, Alicia’s family is everywhere,” he said with a smile. “Did you tell her?”

John shook his head.

Alicia smiled widely. “My dad played for the Rangers.”

“Uh oh,” Meghan teased.

“We’re from Connecticut. My parents still live there. Growing up my dad coached Jonathan Quick, the Kings goalie, who later married my sister. He and Matt were AHL teammates, and that’s how we met.”

Meghan instantly fell in love with Alicia Moulson. Glancing at John, she saw he had no idea - had not anticipated that meeting another woman whose life was twisted into the NHL on many layers from an early age might connect ith Meghan. No matter. If there was someone she could talk to about the complicated mess of loyalties and the possibility of basing the rest of her life on hockey too, this was huge.

“Meghan’s from Whitby,” John said. “Grew up with about half the All-Star team.”

She heard the sullen note in his voice, and quickly added, “Some help that was. I grew up with James Neal, so I’ve known his friends for a long time: Stamkos, Subban, Del Zotto.” Meghan added a hiss after Michael’s name that made everyone laugh. “I’m not sure we’re friends anymore though - they all knew John and no one ever introduced me.”

He looked bashful and she knew that had worked.

“So how’d you finally meet?” Alicia asked.

“At the gym,” John said. He really didn’t want to tell that story.

“You work out with Robs?!” Matt was genuinely impressed.

“I work out near Robs,” Meghan corrected. “The man terrifies me. I see what he does to these guys. But one day, John brought me a drink while I was running.”

“I was watching her run,” he confessed with a shrug. “Really tight pants, dude.” Matt snarfed a laugh, Alicia slapped him on the shoulder. John continued. “I didn’t want to be a perv and the only excuse I had was a Gatorade.”

“Well it worked,” Alicia said. Meghan and John looked at each other - it had worked.
____

Alicia put Mila down for a nap while Meghan and John cleared the table. He caught her by the sink with a quick kiss. “I hate stories where girls marry the NHLers they grew up with.”

Meghan hadn’t thought about it that way - Alicia’s sister and Jonathan Quick were very like herself and James. Only without the same ending.

“I love stories where one hockey player introduces a girl to another hockey player.”

John hadn’t considered it that way either. He and Matt had similar luck, finding the girl of their dreams through another players’ circle of friends. He gave Meghan another kiss and she tugged his bottom lip suggestively between her teeth. She really did like that story.

Outside, Matt was scraping off the grill. John handed him a beer from the fridge and leaned against the railing. With the sun overhead and warm breeze blowing, they could have been in any part of the northeast. Winters here were better than Ontario. New York City was a stone’s throw away, even farther than some very nice beaches. He had to show Meghan all these things.

“So,” Matt closed the lid with a clang. “That is Meghan.”

John and his friend had talked a few times on the phone since he and Meghan met. He’d mentioned her right after their first date to see Fall Out Boy, then reluctantly admitted Meghan called it off. After Canada Day, he’d called Matt to say it was back on. The details, secrets and fights would come out eventually - long road trips and boring off days were for stories. For now, John was just happy.

“You were not kidding, dude. She’s great. And hotter than you said.”

“I think I said, ‘She’s the hottest girl in the world’,” John protested.

“Yeah, but I know the girls you’ve dated before. And this is…,” Matt made a bomb exploding noise and acted it out with one hand, “different. No wonder you brought her to see the baby first. Nice move.”

John hoped it had been at least slightly less obvious than that, but judging by Meghan’s reaction it didn’t matter. Another hook was in. “Now we just have to get through tomorrow.”

The Stadium Series was a new NHL initiative of outdoor games, like the Winter Classic, played in iconic venues between rival teams. In New York, the Rangers would play two games - one against the Devils, one against the Islanders - at Yankee Stadium. John was well aware the Islanders needed all the help they could get; elling tickets on Long Island was tough and Brooklyn loomed in the near future. This could be a great shot to get on more people’s radar.

Of course, he was the face of his team. It wasn’t a burden John shouldered lightly. He wanted to be the best player, to help them win, even when no one was watching. In any given game, he may or may not score. Other guys shared the focus. Days like tomorrow - well, he was extremely glad to have Matt by his side. There would be a press conference at Yankee Stadium featuring two players from each team. Jerseys would be worn, media present, questions asked. Questions about the coming season, all speculation, all hopes and dreams. John wanted hockey hopes and dreams to become a reality.

“So you’re famous for a day. Nothing she hasn’t seen before, right? With Stamkos at least.”

Steven won trophies. He had 60-goal seasons and endorsement deals. Even when his team didn’t make the playoffs, like last season when the Islanders finally had, Stamkos was a flashy, top tier name in the NHL.

“Yeah, but I’m not Stamkos,” John said.

“Yeah,” Matt retorted, “but she didn’t want Stamkos.”
____

Alicia shooed Meghan away from the sink where she’d started cleaning dishes. “Stop, stop. Matt had to do all that stuff when I’m pregnant, don’t help him cheat.” Mila was down for a nap, so Alicia put made two cups of tea and settled herself at the kitchen table. Meghan sat across. A silent moment passed where they each waited for the other to go first. Instead they laughed at the same time.

“I feel like I’m on a job interview,” Meghan said.

“Then you’re hired. I thought he was going to show up here with another sweet, quiet girl whose name I would forget. Instead, you!” Alicia beamed.

“Uh, is that a good thing?”

“Yes, and he knows it. Matt says he’s been talking about you all summer.”

Meghan grimaced. “Yeah, well I haven’t exactly made it easy on him.”

“Good! I mean, not good but interesting. Exciting. He needs that, Meghan. A few of the girls he dated,” Alicia leaned forward like she might be overheard, “there was nothing there. He really tried too: planned dates, always calling from the road. He’s like a book on how to be a good boyfriend but you can’t get spark from an instruction manual.”

“We have spark,” Meghan said, almost blushing.

“I see that. Or I wouldn’t be telling you this.”

Meghan opened her mouth to ask a question, then stopped. She barely knew this woman - in fact, she barely knew John except that Meghan felt like they’d come a long way in a month. Maybe as far as New York.

“Oh, go ahead,” Alicia prompted, reading her mind.

“Were you scared?”

“To give up my life, what I went to college for, move to some place I’d never really been and a team that didn’t win much to be with a guy who’s almost never home? No. Perfectly normal.”

Meghan laughed weakly.

“Matt and Jonathan were playing AHL in New Hampshire when we met. I had this dream they’d both go to the Kings, and my sister and I would too. This was like a week after meeting him, by the way. Well that off-season he got traded to the Islanders. They weren’t good but it meant no more AHL for Matt. He came right here. I don’t know if he would’ve made the Kings full-time that year so it was his dream, coming true. Or half his dream, anyway.”

“What do you mean, half?”

“I think the other half was a family, was me. My sister was so down the rabbit hole with Quickie that it was never a question but me, I had to ask. I told you my dad was a Ranger. My mom said she always thought of marrying into hockey a little like being married to someone in the military. They get deployed, you wait. They get re-assigned, maybe you move. Maybe you don’t. But you take every moment they are home with you as a gift. Of course, you don’t worry quite as much and money is great.” Alicia took a sip from her mug. “It’s not always easy, though. This team… thank God they made the playoffs last year. It gave everyone some hope. Playing in a market like this and not winning much, it takes a toll.”

Meghan nodded. She sensed that John felt his need to carry this team more than other elite players, because he was already standing in a hole.

“Is it worth it?”

“Is he?” Alicia asked. “Because that’s what it comes down to. You and him and a lot of the time, just you. For him. But that’s any relationship. Don’t get too caught up in the hockey part; everyone’s got a job.”

“I don’t,” Meghan said sullenly.

Alicia finished her tea. “Finance, right? Well, I know where you can find a bunch of rich guys who all need help investing their money. Starting with the porch.”
____

John and Meghan said goodbye to Alicia and Mila with hugs and promises to see each other tomorrow at the press conference. Matt drove them ten minutes to John’s house and the scene was repeated. Then they were alone in front of a townhouse: medium-sized, newly constructed, perfectly modest three-story townhouse in a development. A garage door was closed at driveway level, next to a brick facade flanking the front door.

“Welcome,” John said theatrically as he opened the front door.

The first floor was a combination garage, laundry and storage so they went directly upstairs to the main living area on the second floor. A big gray sectional occupied the corner, looking as comfy as John’s giant chair at home, with a coffee table that saw more feet than anything and a big TV on the wall. It opened into a small dining area and past that was a little office opposite the kitchen. Meghan sighed - only a boy would put the table by itself and the desk near the kitchen. There was also a beer fridge. This place was a bachelor pad with all the male mentality and none of the swagger - definitely John’s house.

John regarded the place with a satisfied nod. It didn’t have a woman’s touch but it was home and it was clean. He turned Meghan upstairs for the next part of the tour, where she stopped in the first doorway and laughed. The guest bedroom was small - smaller than her own room at her parents’ house. A queen size bed took up nearly the whole space, nicely covered with a brown duvet. A TV and dresser ran the near wall, leaving a narrow walkway to get out of bed or open drawers, but not both.

“Colin’s room,” John explained.

“I think it’s supposed to be for a kid,” she said. Never having met Colin, Meghan imagined him to be a pretty big guy. He’d be even more snug than she in this room.

“I told him to get a twin bed, he refused,” John said. “Guess he doesn’t know how much fun they can be.” With that he showed her the second guest room, just as small though with less furniture. That left only one door.

John hadn’t been in his bedroom in almost two months. It amazed him how empty it felt now. Sure the closets had been cleaned out except for winter clothes and everything scrubbed or folded before he left. His room in Ontario used to feel the same way when he arrived or left for the summer. Now that room at home felt… full, he thought. Because he wasn’t the only one using it.

Meghan could have guessed what John’s room would look like: slate gray walls, white down comforter, white pillowcases, almost nothing adorning any of the walls or spaces. Function over fashion. It was comfortable and the bed looked extra welcoming, but there was nothing to say who lived, worked and maybe even loved here.

She closed the door behind them.

John was smiling before he kissed her, and still when they tumbled onto the queen size bed. Already it felt different having Meghan here. John knew before they hit the mattress that he’d do anything to bring her back, make her stay. She giggled as they inched up toward the pillows, pawing at each other and peeling of clothes as they went. She’d worn a pale yellow sundress with crochet detail at the neck and hem plus a brown belt and strappy sandals for the trip. He fumbled at the belt with one hand, the other impatiently pushing up her skirt.

Meghan helped him, then herself to him, then they were rolling and kissing and sighing together. It never ceased to amaze her how casual John was with his strength. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he pushed inside her the practice of a hundred times, but his kiss was as urgent and seeking as their first time together. Meghan raked her hands through his dark hair and held on.

John wondered how he made it through an hour with Meghan without this. He wasn’t a letch. While Meghan was charming the world he didn’t even think about sex but the moment they were alone, he wanted everything. John wanted to block out the world beyond whatever room they were in and have her, one hundred percent of her, all to himself. Her skin was so soft, the twist of her hips and arch of her back so needy and satisfying at the same time. He broke their kiss and opened his eyes; she did the same. They were like that when he came.

He didn’t want to be first. Not here, in the room and life he wanted her to call home. John started to apologize but Meghan just smiled. “I love doing that to you,” she confessed. It was powerful to make a guy so controlled lose that hold, just for a moment.

“I hate it,” he half-lied. It was still amazing even out of order.

Such a gentleman, Meghan knew. It would always be that way with John - he’d want to carry her bags, take care of her first. But real life was messier than that, and she was fine with those things too.

“You don’t have to stop,” she smiled, reaching for his hand and guiding it down over her backside. Meghan hooked her leg over his, giving him access, and slid her hand down between them.

Oh God, John thought as she started to touch herself. He touched her too, smooth skin beneath his fingers, the wet heat of her slit. Meghan moved the way she had when they made love at the cottage - urgently, with need. He’d never known a girl who would take matters into her own hand, certainly not with his help. As he pushed two fingers inside the mess he’d made of her, Meghan moaned softly. She squeezed as he pumped, riding against his touch and hers together. Leaning in, John kissed her hard and tried to do what she seemed to like.

One or the other - John’s hand or hers - would have done her in. Both were just speeding the process. Being against John’s side naked might have been enough on it’s own. As she moved her fingers, she felt a wave of sparks rush down toward her hips. “John,” she whispered as she came. It wasn’t earth-shattering, just a gasp, release and then a slow, soft float back into her body. He wrapped both arms around her and held tight.

They lay in his bed, in his house, in his hockey city for a long time. John pulled a throw over them despite the warm day, creating a little cocoon against the world. Meghan thought of him with Mila, so careful and protective. It made her smile.

“What?” he asked, seeing her expression.

“Nothing,” she said. “Just you.”
____

The next morning, Meghan woke first. She didn’t recognize the room until she recognized the sleeping, quietly snoring heap next to her. Just as she was about to roll closer, the alarm went off. John lifted his head, hair everywhere like a porcupine, and smacked the place where the alarm would have been in Mississauga. He missed the table entirely and almost fell out of bed. He tried again with eyes open and found it.

“Morning,” he mumbled, dragging her into his arms.

She ruffled the front of his hair. “This is gonna need some work before pictures.”

“Don’t care.”

“I care. There will be Rangers there! Gotta look our best.”

She wiggled free and John watched her cross the room, stark naked with hips swinging. None of the girls he’d brought here had ever walked like that. He was ready to follow even before she turned the shower on.

The master bath was about the size of Colin’s bedroom, with a stand alone tub and a glass-walled shower stall. Meghan figured after a hockey game that tub probably felt great. Now she opted for the rainfall shower head and cranked it to hot. John had a single bottle of two-in-one shampoo and a bar of soap.

“This is like day camp,” she said as he came in behind her. Good thing she’d packed better supplies. She produced shampoo, conditioner and shower gel from her toiletry bag - John opened one bottle and sniffed it suspiciously. “I doesn’t smell like girls,” Meghan assured.

In fact it smelled fresh, like something green and alive. John let Meghan stand under the falling water first, both because he was polite and because watching it course down her body - drops becoming streams becoming rivulets that crashed and dodged along the curves - was mesmerizing. She poured some shampoo and lifted her hands into her hair.

“John!” she squeaked as he pressed in against her. His kiss was hot, water running over both their faces, and Meghan couldn’t open her eyes. She just stood there and let him kiss her. There was an rush in his touch, in the way his mouth moved against hers that made her heart race. When John pulled away, he was panting.

“Fuck,” he said quietly. They had places to be and all he wanted to do was take her against the wall of his shower, leave handprints in the foggy glass and them both shaking at the end. He should be used to this by now but sometimes, John found he really couldn’t control himself. Meghan rinsed the shampoo from her hair and looked at him.

“Woooh. That was sexy. You’re gonna sell a lot of tickets today,” she promised.

When they finished, John ironed his shirt while Meghan dried her hair. She emerged from the bathroom with a wavy pile of glossy locks, wearing black and white striped panties and a matching bra. John got dry mouth went she bent over at her suitcase.

“What to wear?” She had two dresses - one vintage-looking red with cap sleeves and a scoopneck that wrapped around and belted at the waist, the other a pale green chiffon with white trim that was more flowy and feminine.

“Red,” he said, imagining how eye-catching she’d be in a bright dress with her long hair and long legs.

Meghan smirked. “Red it is.”

Ten minutes later, she reemerged with makeup and the dress on to prove John right. Her hair fell forward over one shoulder as she casually raked it up and away from her face, exposing a dangly white earring. The red belt cinched the dress against her slender waist, while her breasts filled out the scoopneck perfectly. She was just shy of showing anything, but everyone would know. Meghan slipped her feet into white peep-toe espadrilles and held out her arms.

John sighed. “You are gonna sell a lot of tickets today.”

Meghan made him stand in front of the mirror. She was nearly his height in her cork sandals. With a handful of gel and precision worthy of an architect, she mussed his hair into a perfect, careless style. John spent the two minutes looking right down her dress. He frowned when she picked up the blow dryer.

“Trust me. Girls’ll be freaking out over your hair today.”

He had to admit, it looked good. Great even. John usually liked it longer, because short hair didn’t help a guy who already tended to dress like an accountant. But Meghan had made it sexy. She had a way of doing that with everything.

Meghan gave him the once-over. Outwardly not much had changed about John in the last six weeks. He still wore a polo, this an official Islanders issue, buttoned one too high at the throat. She let that slide. It was tucked into his black trousers and secured with a belt. On his feet, black leather slip on shoes were….

“What?” she pinched the fabric of his pants and lifted, exposing bright blue socks. “Hahahahaha,” Meghan dissolved into giggles. He smiled - there had to be a little fun.

“GAH,” she kissed him on the mouth. “You’re fucking hot.”
____

John stood outside the home dugout at Yankee Stadium, looking at the soaring stands around him. He’d been to a million ball games, even thrown the first pitch a few times. Empty the place was somehow more imposing, a reminder of how many fans they needed to entice to take part in this event. The Rangers would carry most of that weight but it still made him a little nervous.

“Grrrrrrrr,” Meghan said quietly as his side. “I hate the Yankees.”

He held her hand. Every single person who’d passed them or talked to them had looked from Meghan to John and back, surprise on their faces. Most hockey players had wives or girlfriends, it was no big deal. The media cared little unless the girl was famous - except in some cases where the guy was famous. Crosby showing up at a team event with a girl would have burned up the wires. John knew he wasn’t Crosby but couldn’t help feeling proud that these people were noticing his girl.

“Johnny,” Matt appeared behind them, coming up the dugout steps. “And damn, you look nice enough for the Post to say good things,” he told Meghan.

“Where’s Alicia?”

“Diaper duty.” He pointed to his brand new Islanders jersey. “Daddy’s dressed up.”

John had been carrying his jersey to escape the warmth. They’d only need it for photos. Still Meghan had never seen him wear it and thought it would be a good thing to have thirty meters and a sea of people between them when he put it on.

The guys were collected by a staffer. John gave Meghan a swift kiss. “You’re a star,” she whispered.

Folding chairs had been lined up and Meghan found Alicia in one. Mila was belted into her stroller, playing with a stuffed animal. Meghan sat down and took in the scene. Yankee Stadium seemed huge. Of course it was brand new and used to sellouts, so every seat was just a pile of money. The grass was impossibly green, the dirt raked so perfectly that her footprints looked like tracks on the moon. She imagined being in the stands, screaming at the game. She could not imagine being out there playing it.

“Crazy, huh?” Alicia asked.

“Crazy.”

The ceremony began. People were welcomed, players introduced. She and Alicia whooped loudly for John and Matt, and Mila clapped too. John’s mouth twitched like he heard them. Gary Bettman spoke, Yankees president Randy Levine, various team people. Garth Snow, GM of the Isles and John’s boss, kind of, talked about the rise in profile for his club before their move to Brooklyn. When remarks were over, everyone descended the stage for a last step: photos on the field.

John casually pulled his jersey over his head in one practiced movement, then instantly touched his hair to be sure he hadn’t messed it up. From her seat, Meghan laughed. He lined up with Matt next to Girardi and Callahan from the Rangers and Greene and Salvador from the Devils.

“We have the best looking team,” Alicia said. Meghan thought of Del Zotto - glad he wasn’t here though she missed his ridiculous sense of humor. A few other Rangers came to mind: Lundqvist, Nash, Hagelin. She kept that count to herself.

When photos were done, the media moved in for interviews. John stood tall and proud in a group as big as any player attracted. The girls cheated a little closer as the event became less formal. Mila toddled in the grass at Meghan’s feet. She wished she could hear was John was saying, but it didn’t matter. He knew how to handle this part better than anyone. With his hair and smile and the aw shucks way he spoke, John looked like a reluctant movie star at his own premiere.
____

“Who’s the girl?” someone finally asked.

“My girlfriend Meghan,” John said without hesitation. In fact, he’d been waiting all day to say that into a microphone. On arrival they’d met a ton of people and John introduced Meghan as his girlfriend to everyone. Now he wanted it on the record and in writing.

“She a New Yorker?” the Daily News asked.

“Possible future New Yorker,” he smiled.
____

Notes

Comments

Just finished this story and wanted to say that you're an incredible writer. :)
I think you'd write a great MDZ story btw.

I'm so sad that it's over. ): But thank you for spending so much time and effort to write something so wonderful!

OMGEmilyGrace OMGEmilyGrace
4/7/14

Omg poor James :(

hockeywife hockeywife
2/27/14

This story is amazing. My favorite. I love it so much

racheal racheal
2/10/14

I love this story so much!!!

RedWingsGirl2 RedWingsGirl2
1/12/14