Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 88895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Which is a good fucking feeling.
Reminds me I really am good at what I do.
And why I don’t want to give it up…even if I can’t fight the feeling that I’m going to have to.
Due to having to work the room, I miss when the Froskys arrive with Becks; however, the second I see Tanner’s blonde hair, I dart that direction, insisting Khurana go the opposite way because I’ll be documenting on my work phone.
My appearance at his table that has a glittery poster – glitter that was a bitch to get out of Bear’s fur might I add – of his name and number on the wall behind it as well as a snowman tablecloth and rubber ducky snowman occurs just in time to capture the genuine excitement over seeing his parents waiting.
“No bloody way!” Tanner practically shouts, purple suit frame bouncing in place. “You two came?!” Disbelief further soars through his expression as they laugh and hug. “How did I not know?!” He squeezes his father a bit tighter than his dad. “How did you manage to keep this from me?!”
“They had help,” Becks informs on a greetings fist bump from where he’s still sitting.
“You knew?!” Tanner continues to loudly exclaim. “You bloody knew?!”
He nods again prior to proclaiming, “Your Slayer really came through on this one.”
It takes every ounce of energy he can conjure to not glance in my direction where I’m filming.
“She arranged all of this,” Becks continues to explain knowing damn well I can’t. “That ugly poster…”
I cleverly flash him my middle finger.
“All the snowman décor…”
Just got it during Christmas.
“Texting your ‘rents.”
“She was so thoughtful,” Trent sweetly states, melting my frame. “She actually inspired me to bring you this.” He extends the tiny, winged hussar figurine to his son who instantly accepts. “She expressed how it is your ritual to have one in your pocket prior to the game.”
My better half enthusiastically nods, slides the new one into his other pocket, and reveals the one he’s currently toting around. “Tonight is King Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone.”
“I got you that one upon your pro contract signing.”
“A reminder that I was destined for greatness.”
“You have achieved greatness, Tanner.”
Both blue eyed blondes exchange warm, heartfelt smiles that threaten to turn me into a literal puddle of gross, girlish mush.
“Your Slayer certainly thinks so,” informs Carson during their reseating behind the table. “Gotta admit. Chick’s sweet but more importantly hilarious.” He chuckles to himself while folding his hands in his lap. “The…specific shape of some of these cookies was absolutely intentional.”
Maybe…
I mean…it wasn’t not not intentional.
He needed to have at least one dickish shaped.
“I um…” Tanner doesn’t battle his smirk, “I can see that.”
“She also went out of her way to bake you three types of cookies,” Becks precedes to be my spokesperson.
Yet again he strains for our gazes not to meet. “Any particular reason?”
“She baked you a starter,” Carson points, “a backup,” he moves to the next batch, “and-”
“An ebuc!” excitedly claims Trent. “Which I learned is a hockey quip on-”
“An emergency backup goalie,” my boyfriend smoothly finishes. “Clever.”
“We thought so,” his dad agrees.
“Father,” he pridefully acknowledges on camera the parent he’s used to hiding, “are these…” one of the spicebush treats is lifted towards his lips, “gran’s spicebush cookies?” The misshaped baked good heads for his mouth. “The ones she makes me at the start of every season?”
“They are.” Trent slowly nods, his own gratitude for getting to be a part of the experience plastered plainly on his face. “Your…Slayer…is it?” Both Tanner and Becks bob their heads. “Truly put in the effort to make this family moment special.”
“I…” the struggle increases exponentially prompting me to tighten my hold on the recording device, “feel quite special.”
“Anddddd,” Becks interjects once more, “these are chocolate orange cookies, orange being the state fruit of Florida, a place where she looked into being in athletic communications at some university if you were ever traded there.”
The announcement widens both of our stares.
“And then these are oatmeal apple and raisin because both Michigan – where she’d work as a radio analyst – and NY – where she’d do something with makeup? – are both known for apple ‘ish, so she made those to remind you if you were ever traded there, she’d still follow.”
His puppeteering confession causes Tanner to finally surrender to his stare meeting instincts. “If that’s true…”
Unable to verbally reply leads me to curling my fist and executing an almost knocking motion, which is yes in sign language.
“Then I hope she knows I’ve spent the past couple of weeks doing everything I possibly can to prevent that from happening because the last thing I would ever want is to rip her away from her life here.”
Realizing that we’ve practically been doing the same shit for the same reasons has me shaking my head in amusement.