Fire & Ice

She stood in the plaza outside Wells Fargo Center in total awe. She had been in this exact place hundreds of times as a Philadelphia Flyers fan. But tonight she was going to walk through that “Press Only” door. She pinched herself so she would continue putting one foot in front of the other. This is it. Your dream come true. Don’t blow it.

It had been a long time getting back to the world of press passes and all access that she had taken for granted as a young adult working in professional baseball. It all seemed so simple then. In her youth and naiveté, it never sunk in that not everyone gets those chances. She was the envy of so many without even knowing it. She gave up on her dream too quickly and had regretted it ever since. But here she was. Getting ready to enter the press box for her favorite National Hockey League team, thanks to their gracious press credentials policy and her Flyers blog.

As she entered the press door, she froze in admiration of the spacious room filled with photos depicting the Flyers’ glorious past. Her eyes immediately focused on a photo of the infamous Broad Street Bullies. In the 1970s, all NHL teams feared facing them, and they were an integral part of the Flyers’ Stanley Cup championships in 1974 and 1975. What Flyers fans wouldn’t give to have Lord Stanley’s Cup in Philadelphia once again. Several Flyers’ teams had come close since those two amazing years, but winning the coveted trophy takes a combination of skill, luck, and karma that they Flyers had not been able to capture again.

As Christine glanced around the room, her knees buckled as she spotted a photo of the Flyers’ current captain, Claude Giroux. He was one of the few men on this earth she thought was beautiful. He wasn’t classically handsome in an actor/model sort of way, but there was something about that red hair, cocky grin, and hockey player build that she (and many other women apparently) found totally irresistible. She immediately felt a flurry of butterflies in her stomach as she remembered that her press pass included access to the Flyers’ locker room after the game for interviews. She wondered if she would be able to remain conscious when face to face with the Captain.

Christine took the elevator to the press box in the upper level of the arena. Though she loved the view of the ice from her season ticket seats on the lower level, the birds eye view from up here was pretty amazing, providing a full view of the playing surface. Christine flashed back to her days of ushering writers to their seats in the press box prior to minor league baseball games. It seemed so long ago, yet it seemed like it was yesterday. A Flyers’ media assistant told Christine to help herself to the buffet in the adjacent room, but Christine’s stomach turned at the thought of food. A soda would do for now.

The game was soon underway, and the perspective from the rafters of the arena was stunning. The ice was laid out below Christine like a blank map, with each play unfolding with precision wrapping in chaos. The action went back and forth from one end of the ice to the other for a few minutes before Flyers rookie Shane Gostisbehere skated the puck into the Devils defensive zone, took his spot at the point, then quickly slid the puck to Giroux, who fired a slap shot into the net. Christine heard the horn just as she saw the puck hit the back of the net. The fans in the arena went wild, standing and cheering while the goal song blared. In journalism school, Christine was taught the old adage “No Cheering in the Press Box,” and she had always adhered to that “rule,” even as her heart was bursting with joy and her fist was pumping behind her back. But tonight she realized that times have changed, as many of the Flyers beat writers and bloggers let out a small cheer when G scored.

At the end of the first period, the score stood Flyers 1, Devils 0. By this time, Christine’s nerves had settling down a bit and she decided to venture out to the buffet table and grab a bite to eat for fear that not eating anything might leave her feeling ill. Christine picked up a sandwich and chips and was headed to a nearby table when she heard a man’s voice say, “Good evening. I haven’t seen you around here before.” Christine smiled and said, “Good evening. Yes, this is my first time here. I write a blog about the Flyers.” The man introduced himself as a Flyers beat writer for one of the Philadelphia newspapers. Christine recognized his name immediately, but she kept her cool as they had a brief chat about how well the Flyers treat the press.

Christine was soon back in her seat as the second period was underway. This period started just as the previous period had ended --- defense, defense. The Flyers and Devils were notorious for playing these type games, and Christine remembered being lulled into a near trance during previous Flyers/Devils games, watching the play go back and forth with no scoring chance in sight.

In what seemed like a flash, Christine looked at the game clock and realized that there was only 3:25 left in the third period. The score still stood 1-0 and if the Flyers could hold the Devils off, the game would end in a Flyers victory and she would be heading to the locker room. Her heart sped up and felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. THE LOCKER ROOM! She wasn’t ready. There was no way she could deal with this. What would she say when face to face with the team that she had cheered for so long? And how in the world could she live through staring into Giroux’s hazel eyes? Get a grip!I don’t care how scared you are. You made it this far and you are going to see this through.

The horn sounded to end the game and the crowd cheered a decisive Flyers victory as the players congratulated one another and thanked their goalie Michael Neuvirth. Christine followed the other writers into the elevator. When the doors opened, Christine was staring at the wall outside the Flyers locker room with the Flyers logo emblazed on it. She had seen this wall in the Flyers pre-game video, but never in her wildest dreams did she think that she would be standing in front of it. As soon as the press was gathered outside the locker room door, the Flyers public relations director reminded them that several players are made available for interviews after each game. This evening, those players would be Giroux, Gostisbehere, and Neuvirth.

Before Christine could take it all in, the locker room door opened to reveal an open area surrounded by several oversized, brown leather chairs. Behind the chairs, Christine could see the players’ lockers surrounding the orange Flyers logo emblazoned on the black carpet. Before she had a chance to register the fact that she was standing in the Flyers locker room, the PR representative brought Ghost and Neuvy into the circle of reporters. The beat writers started asking questions while Christine focused on trying to remain calm and not do anything to draw attention to herself. As soon as Ghost and Neuvy went back to their lockers, G strolled towards the press area. Christine felt her knees go weak as she saw him approaching. Fortunately, she was near the back of the group so he did not meet her eyes and see how nervous she must have looked.

“Tell us about that goal G,” barked one reporter. “Do you feel like you and Ghost are developing a sort of chemistry out there?”

“You know, Ghost is becoming a great player. He fed me a clean pass and I went for it. Just glad it went in.” Christine smiled to herself. This was classic G. Always calm, to the point, and humble, giving credit to his teammates.

Christine thought about asking a question, but she had always been shy in groups of more than a few people. And this situation was way too intimidating. No, this was just an observational experience. The key was to make it out without any drama.

Soon the questions were over and the reporters started trickling out of the locker room. Christine was taking notes when she suddenly looked up and realized that she and one of the beat writers were the only media members left in the press area. The beat writer was talking to G but she could tell that G was done and ready to get back to his locker. As Christine quickly turned to walk away, the toe of her shoe caught the carpet and she stumbled. Before she knew it she was on her knees facing the floor. This can’t be happening. This is another one of my crazy dreams. Wake up, Christine! Wake up! But the pain in her knee told her that this wasn’t a dream.

As she was trying to gather her thoughts and decide if she could get up or not, she felt a large, warm hand on her elbow. “Are you okay?” It was that French-Canadian accent she knew so well. Only she had never heard that voice directed at her.

“Yes, uh, I think I’m fine.” Christine felt her cheeks burn and tried to gather herself and wrap her head around the fact that she was having a conversation with Claude Giroux. Her dream come true, happening right now….in the most embarrassing way possible.

“Here, let me help you,” Giroux offered in a calm, reassuring voice, as he effortlessly lifted her to her feet. Once she was upright, Christine looked around and realized that even though the beat writer and the PR guy were staring at her with a look of horror/pity on their faces, no one else seemed to have noticed her big stumble. Except for G, of course. As she turned to him, Christine was overwhelmed by the mere presence of him as he kept hold of her arm as she leaned into his strong chest.

“How’s that knee,” G said. “Are you hurt? You gave us quite a scare there. Who knew these carpets were so dangerous?” And then that toothless grin that got her every time.

“It is a little sore, but it’s okay,” Christine mumbled. “Sorry. That was so embarrassing.”

“Don’t worry about it. You should see how clumsy I am,” G chuckled.

Right, G clumsy. Sure. Such a nice guy. Just trying to make me feel better after such a scene.

“I don’t think I’ve ever see you here before,” he said.

“No,” she said, trying to remember to breathe. “Hi, I’m Christine, this is my first game as press. I write a Flyers blog. I live in Virginia.”

Christine realized that she and Claude were standing alone in the press area. She suddenly felt awkward. She just wanted to get out of there. This was not how her dreamed encounter with the Captain was supposed to go. He must think I am a total clutz. All those beautiful women throwing themselves at him, and I can’t even stay on my feet.

”Well, I better get going. Nice to meet you,” Christine said as she turned to walk towards the locker room door. As soon as she put weight on her left knee, she felt a jabbing pain. Probably bruised again. She knew the feeling well from her ice skating days. But at least those lessons had taught her how to fall without breaking a bone (or her face). The pain brought tears to her eyes, but she had to keep moving. She had to get out of there now.

“Wait,” Claude said. “I can’t let you walk out of here alone into the snowstorm with that bad knee. You know there is a big snowstorm coming, right?”

“Yes, I heard. It’s fine. I can take the subway downtown and walk from there to my hotel,” she said.

Claude grinned and chuckled a little. “You obviously aren’t from Philly. Though nothing like Ontario, the snowstorms here can be pretty wicked. And it has already started coming down hard from what I’ve heard, so I wouldn’t recommend the walk to the SEPTA station. And you can forget a cab. They are impossible to find in a storm. Let me give you a ride back to your hotel. Where are you staying?”

Had Christine heard him correctly? Had Claude just offered to give her a ride back to her hotel? She must be dreaming. “Seriously, I will give you a ride to wherever you need to go. It is not safe for you to go out there alone,” Claude said.

Christine shook herself out of her daydream state and managed to answer him. “I’m staying at the Westin. But I really don’t want to bother you. I’m sure you have someplace to be.”

“It is not a problem, really,” he said, smiling. “I am headed that way anyway. Just give me a couple minutes to shower and change. You can wait for me in the lounge outside that door.”

Christine shook her head yes. Words escaped her right now. But she managed to walk out of the locker room and plant herself in the first chair she saw. There was no way she was sitting here waiting for a ride to her hotel from Claude Giroux. But it was true, so she had to try to compose herself. But what would she say to him? How in the world would this go? Sure, she had dreamed about such a moment, but never in a million years did she think it would ever really happen. And, sure, she figured he was a nice guy. But that had to be the only reason he was doing her such a big favor. He had perfect 10s at his disposal 24/7, and that was not how one would describe Christine. Nice? Check. Good personality? Check. Cute? So she’d been told. But beautiful enough to catch number 28's eye? No way. Oh well.Just enjoy the good fortune and try to have fun.

Before Christine knew it, Claude was standing by her side and asking if she was ready to go. He looked amazing. He was sporting a light blue dress shirt, navy blazer, dark pants, and long black overcoat. She felt a little underdressed in her black pants, silver sweater, and black boots, but there was nothing she could do about that now. She followed him to the players’ parking lot, which was already covered in a few inches of snow. He opened the passenger door of his black sports car and she slid into the black leather seat. The car was stunning, and she had never seen such a sleek, spaceship-like dashboard.

“Don’t worry about my driving,” Claude said. “I will take it down a notch in this storm. But I’ve had plenty of experience driving in snow. Canadian, you know?” There was that big, charming grin. Christine’s heart was melting fast. She just smiled and shook her head in agreement, feeling her face flush.

Claude pulled out of the sports complex and turned right onto Broad Street. There were very few cars on the road for 10:30 on a Saturday night. Philadelphia residents were heeding the warning about the dangerous storm and had gotten off the roads. But Claude’s high performance car had no problem navigating the snow-packed streets, and soon they were headed towards downtown, with City Hall visible in the distance.

“You said you live in Virginia.” Claude said. “Have you always lived there?”

“I live outside Washington DC and have been there for a while. I consider it home now,” Christine said. “I’m originally from North Carolina.”

“Then how the heck did you become a Flyers fan?!” Claude chuckled.

Christine laughed. She had been asked this question many times and always enjoyed telling the story. “I saw my first hockey game when I came to Washington. I was even a Caps fan for a while,” Christine said in a whisper, hoping that Claude wouldn’t hear her.

“You’re kidding me! You were a fan of those douche bags? Wow,” Claude exclaimed.

Christine laughed. “I know,” she said. “It was crazy, but it got me into hockey, so that’s what counts. I even worked as the scorekeeper for the junior capitals for a few seasons.”

“Wow, you are a fan,” Claude winked. “I like a woman who understands the game.”

Claude then asked Christine again how she became a Flyers fan. She didn’t want to dwell on this story, so she told him the truth, but just the basics. She wasn’t going to tell Claude that the guy broke her heart.

“I dated a guy a few years ago from Philly who is a huge fan of all Philly sports,” she said. “He took me to my first Flyers game and I was hooked from there.”

“So what happened to the guy?” said Claude, who quickly glanced over at Christine with an inquisitive look on his face.

“You know, we just drifted apart. In the end, it just didn’t last,” Christine said in a clipped tone as void of emotion as possible.

“I bet there’s more to it than that,” Claude said. “But I will leave it at that. I don’t want to pry.”

Before Christine knew it, they were in Center City and nearing City Hall. They soon pulled into the driveway of the Westin at Liberty Place. Christine’s heart sunk. This was it. The end of her chance encounter with Claude Giroux. She looked out of the passenger window towards the hotel’s front door and started to open the car door and cheerfully say “Goodnight G. Thanks so much for the ride.”

Suddenly Christine heard Claude talking to someone. What?! He was giving his car key to the valet! What was going on? Of course. Claude probably already had plans to meet someone here so that is why he was happy to give her a ride. Christine tried to keep her cool, but her heart was racing so fast she could feel it skipping. In a split second, Claude was walking with Christine towards to hotel’s front door. Okay. This is where he ditches me.

“Are you hungry?” Claude asked. “Do you want to grab a drink and a bite to eat in the bar?”
Christine stared at him in shock. Was he actually talking to her? She managed to stutter a “yeah, sure” and followed him towards the elevator that would take them up to the bar. The hotel restaurant/bar was beautiful in a modern, classy sort of way. Just what one would expect from a bar in a nice hotel in downtown Philadelphia. Claude and Christine took two vacant seats at the end of the elegant granite bar, and Christine marveled at the fancy liquor bottles backlit by a blue glass wall. The bartender immediately came over to take their order, greeting Claude as if he had served him a drink once or twice before. Christine ordered a glass of red wine and Claude ordered a whiskey. They both sat in silence staring at the menu for a few minutes before Christine ordered sliders and Claude a steak.

“This place is beautiful,” Christine said. “What a great idea to combine the bar and the restaurant into the same space.”

Claude nodded and told her that it was one of his favorite spots for an after-game meal. Nice atmosphere, good food, and close to home. Christine’s ears perked at that last comment. She figured that Claude lived in the city, but she had read that several Flyers lived near the practice facility in New Jersey, so she wasn’t sure.

Christine was happy when the wine arrived, hoping that it would help calm her nerves. Soon the food arrived and Christine and Claude were busy eating and chatting. Christine used to be a newspaper reporter, so asking questions of a near stranger came naturally to her. The conversation included Claude telling Christine what it was like growing up in Ontario with hockey as the center of his life. In turn, Christine told Claude about her youth in small town North Carolina and what it is like living in the Washington, DC area. Christine had always imagined that if she ever met a Flyer they would talk about hockey non-stop. But the subject didn’t come up much and Christine got the feeling that Claude was happy to leave the game on the ice. Though they did not talk about the Flyers, Christine was happy to tell Claude about her love for the City of Brotherly Love.

“There is just something about this city that got me from the moment I first saw Rocky years ago,” she said with a big grin. “Being from the South, this place seemed so Northern and exotic. And after my first visit here I was hooked. Philly has the most beautiful skyline and so much to offer, from sports to museums to great food. And don’t even get me started on Philly sports fans – the most passionate fans in the game.”

Claude echoed Christine’s words and told her that Philly had become his second home. “I love it here and feel very much accepted as a part of this city. I hope I will be here for a long time,” he said with a hopeful look in his eyes. He was so competitive and never totally satisfied with his performance on the ice. The losses were almost unbearable, and the occasional whispers that he might not be captain material tore him to the core even though most agreed he was one of the best players in the NHL. It was a constant battle with himself in the pursuit of perfection.

As soon as their plates were cleared, the bartender asked if they wanted more drinks. Christine figured that this was the point where the evening ended. Instead of waited for Claude to decline the drinks and ask for the check, Christine decided she would beat Claude to the punch and avoid any possible awkwardness.

“I really appreciate you giving me a ride here and having dinner with me, but I’m sure you have someplace else you need to be. And please let me pay for dinner. It’s the least I can do,” said Christine, her heart pounding as she said the words as calmly as possible.

“You’re welcome, my pleasure,” said Claude with a wink and a smile. “And honestly I don’t have anywhere else I need to be. And even if I did I wouldn’t be able to get there. I looked out the window a few minutes ago and the snow is still coming down hard and the streets are not passable. So I think I’m stuck here for a while. I hope you’re okay with that.”

As Claude finished the sentence he slid his arm around the back of Christine’s chair. She froze for a second trying to take it all in. So let me get this straight. I am stuck in a hotel with Claude Giroux and he just put his arm around me. WTF?!

“Let’s order some shots!” Claude semi-yelled over the music that was now blaring in the bar area as the restaurant part of the room closed. “Do you like vodka?”

Christine nodded, and soon several shots of Grey Goose arrived. She had never really “done shots” before, but she wasn’t going to shy away from it in this scenario. Not with the Captain leading the way. The bar area was fairly full when they arrived over an hour ago, but it had thinning out considerably as it got later. Christine was surprised that no one came up to Claude to talk to him, as he is very recognizable in Philly. Christine noticed that he got a few glances and nods, but it seemed that most Philadelphians knew to leave their sports stars alone when they were out and about on the town.

The vodka burned Christine’s throat and sent a warming sensation throughout her whole body. She was not a big drinker, so ingesting that much alcohol at one time was a shock. She knew it was only a matter of time before it went to her head. Hopefully she wouldn’t do anything too crazy or stupid.

Claude was already tired from the game. Those battles with the Devils really took it out of him. He could usually hold his alcohol well, but he started to feel his head rush after only a few shots. He’d better slow down. Christine seemed like a nice woman, and he didn’t want to do anything to overwhelm her since she had seemed a bit nervous around him all night.

The vodka gave Christine a calm and confidence she had not had all evening. She and Claude turned to face each other, and Christine suddenly had the urge to touch him. Before she even realized what she was doing, her hands went to his shoulders and her fingers slipped under the collar of his blazer. Claude looked surprised, then gave her a smile so sexy she almost fell off her chair. He lightly placed his hands on her waist and leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I won’t bite, je promets.” The words sent sparks down Christine’s spine. Too bad she had forgotten everything she learned in high school French class.

Christine was not like the glamor girls who usually hung around Claude, begging for his attention. She was older and had a maturity about her, yet she exuded the enthusiasm and innocence of someone much younger. He found her charismatic personality and warm smile irresistible. It felt good, for a change, to be with a woman who seemed interested in him as a man, not just as a professional hockey player. His head buzzed from the vodka and all he could think about was returning her surprising advance.

Once she grasped those firm shoulders, Christine couldn’t let go. It was true what they said about professional hockey players – men of steel. She could feel the warmth coming off his body and could smell his intoxicating cologne as he moved in closer. She wasn’t sure what was happening, she only knew it was happening fast and there was no way she was going to stop it.

Claude lifted Christine’s chin and gazed into her eyes. He saw shyness and a hint of surprise, but more than that he saw desire burning in her dark eyes. Without hesitation he ran his hands through her thick, wavy brown hair and pressed his lips to hers.

Christine froze at the surprise of Claude’s kiss and she could feel her face turn crimson. But in a matter of nanoseconds, her fears turned into a desire that she had never felt before. She pressed her lips to his and responded in kind as he slipped his tongue into her mouth with an ease and hunger that she had never experienced before. She returned his kisses and ran her fingers through his curly, ginger hair.

After a few moments Claude and Christine remembered they were sitting in the middle of a hotel bar. No need to make a scene when there were people far too interested in gossip about Claude’s personal life. Christine was thinking of the room she had upstairs for the night, but there was no way she had the guts to suggest that they head that way. She was hoping that he would say something.

Claude knew Christine had a room upstairs but was too shy to suggest that they go there. He could tell she wanted to but was afraid to say it. So he did. “Are you interested in going someplace a little more private? You know I’m stuck here for the night, so I guess your room will have to do unless you want me to spend the night in the lobby."

Christine’s head was spinning. Her vodka buzz had kicked in and Claude Giroux just asked to accompany her to her room. Surely she had heard him incorrectly. But that kiss – wow. Christine tried to remain cool. “Sure, that’s a great idea. Let’s go.”

Claude grabbed Christine’s hand and led her towards the elevators. For a second, she forgot what floor her room was on. In fact, she was having trouble processing much of anything except for the feel of Claude’s hand in hers and the confident way he led her towards the bar exit. Fortunately, by the time they entered the elevator and needed to hit a button, she remembered the room number. The elevator ride to the floor was a blur, and soon they were standing in front of the hotel room door.

The second they stepped inside the room, Christine lost all inhibition. The Flyers captain was hers for the night and she was not going to waste a second, but she didn’t want to rush through it either. She walked up to him and slowly slipped his navy blazer off his shoulders and gently placed it on the chair. Before she could undress him any further, he gripped her shoulders and gently pressed her against the wall, kissing her with an urgency that let her know slow was not his style.

She let herself fall into his body as she melted into his kisses. Her body was on fire and her heart was pounding so hard it hurt. At that moment she knew there was no return. This was happening now and no force on earth could stop it. ‘You are so sexy,” she whispered, though it came out more like a gasp.

He grabbed the hem of her silver sweater and pealed it over her head, revealing a lacy black bra. She could see his amber eyes blazing in the dim light reflecting off the window from the street below. She quickly loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt revealing his chiseled chest. She ran her hands over his chest and he moaned something under his breath that sounded like French. In a flash, their clothes were in a pile on the floor and they were kissing, touching and rolling around on the bed. For a second she felt guilty about having sex with someone she just met, but she convinced herself this was different. She had dreamt about this moment before and now it was reality. Not many people get that chance. So she let go of all of her fears and inhibitions and let him have her.
----------------
Claude woke up to sunlight and at first didn’t know where he was. The night before had been a bit of a blur, but he certainly remembered most of it. Christine lay beside him with her head on his shoulder and her arm wrapped around his waist. He didn’t want to wake her, but he suddenly felt restless. He had definitely enjoyed spending the night with her. It was so much pressure dealing with the drama that often surrounded the beautiful women who wanted to be in his company. The clubs, the fancy dinners, the demand to always be “on” was exhausting and it was nice to spend an evening getting to know a nice, attractive woman yet feeling none of the usual pressure. But his mind was on something else. Make that someone else.

Christine opened her eyes and stared and the ceiling, suddenly remembering where she was. The warmth of Claude’s body and the lingering sensations in her body told her that last night was not a dream. But where had her bravado from last night gone? Suddenly she was nervous and shy and had no idea what to do or say. What if he regretted what had happened? She started to move towards the edge of the bed wondering if she should try to make a run for it.

“Good morning,” Claude said, in a warm, cheery voice. “How did you sleep?”

“Good. How about you?” She felt the color rush to her cheeks, so she turned her face away from him.

“Are you blushing?” he kidded. “It’s okay. There’s no need to be embarrassed. Last night was amazing.”

Christine finally exhaled, not realizing she had been holding her breath. Okay, good, she thought. At least this isn’t terribly awkward. She could hear the snow plows clearing the streets. They would be passable soon, if not already, and Claude would certainly be returning to his home and his normal life.

“Are you hungry?” Claude said, with a big grin. “I’m starving. Let’s order room service.”
After sharing a leisurely breakfast, Claude jumped up and said, “Come on, get dressed, I want to show you something.”

Christine had no idea what he was up to, but she knew she would follow him anywhere. She quickly threw on some clothes and they headed out the door. The sidewalks were cleared and traffic was moving again on the streets. Claude led her down the block to the entrance of One Liberty, one of Philly’s tallest skyscrapers. They followed the signs to the observation deck and were soon in an elevator speeding up 57 floors. Christine stepped out of the elevator and caught her breath. She was surrounded by glass that revealed a panoramic view of the city and miles beyond.

They walked around the deck and Claude proudly showed off his knowledge of his adopted city. “Over that bridge is New Jersey. That’s Rittenhouse Square. I live near there. And that’s the Schuylkill River and the campuses of Pitt and Drexel.”

As they made their way to the windows that face south, Christine saw what Claude was going to point out before he even said it. “And there is the sports complex and Wells Fargo Center.”
She could see the white, oval arena in the distance and visualized the huge banner that hung on the other side of it. The captain, as big as the building, telling everyone who drove by on I-95 that this was his building.

Suddenly it hit her. He hadn’t said anything, but there was no way this could go anywhere. He was the captain of the Flyers and had a certain kind of life….and a certain kind of girl. And she wondered where that girl was. Maybe she had been in his life before and he had let her slip away.

Claude enjoyed showing his city to someone new. But when he saw Wells Fargo Center it’s as if he woke up from a daze. Suddenly, all he could think about was who he was, how he got there, and the girl who was by his side for that entire journey. Kelly had been his high school sweetheart but he had walked away from her a few years ago in the haze of fame and fortune. Only recently had he begun to realize that he desperately missed her. And somehow the past 15 hours with Christine had helped him realize that he was finally ready for something more than the bachelor life. He hated to hurt Christine, but there was no future for them if he was in love with someone else.

Christine saw the look in his eyes and knew what he was thinking before he said a word. “It was great meeting you, and that was a great evening. But I have to go,” he said.

“Of course,” she said, trying not to show any emotion as her heart felt like it would stop beating. “Thanks again for the ride. And, yes, it was an evening I will never forget.”

He turned and walked away. She knew she would probably never see him again...except on the ice. It was one of those weird once-in-lifetime scenarios that would never be repeated. Hopefully she would be better off for it, perhaps more confident, more daring. Perhaps she would even find love again. But for now, she just felt numb. She stared out over the city and tears began to roll down her face.

Notes