Darkroom: A Moo U Hockey Romance Kate Willoughby (read full novel .TXT) 📖

“Of course not. It’s your face.”

“Exactly.”

We were about fifteen minutes away from my parents’ house when I said to Indi, “Remember how you had to warn me about your mom and dad’s group hug?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I wanted to warn you that my parents like extravagance, they like to spend money. Understated is a four-letter word.”

“I don’t care. I just want to see where you grew up.”

“I actually only lived a couple of years in the State Street house. I was born in Philadelphia where my dad played for three years. Then he was traded to Boston. We spent five years there. Then the rest of his career, eleven more years, we’ve been here in Brooklyn but in three different houses.”

“That’s a lot of moving,” she said. “Occupational hazard?”

“Yep,” I said, wiggling my finger in my ear. “One that’s a lot more disruptive than smelling like pizza.”

“Still hearing that noise?” she asked.

I’d noticed a high-pitched ringing when we were driving from Burlington to Brattleboro and thought something was going on with the Jeep, but then I’d heard it again yesterday afternoon when we were in the Briscoes’ living room.

“Yeah,” I said, frowning. “It comes and goes.”

“It’s called tinnitus. I get that too once in a while. I happen to know that it can be caused by a build-up of ear wax. There are kits you can get at the pharmacy to clean out your ears. We could get you one if you want.”

“Look at you, getting your doctor on,” I teased.

She laughed and punched me in the arm playfully. “Stop it. I’m a long way from being a doctor.”

“Let’s give it a try. This is three times in the past few days.”

We stopped at a drug store to get the ear wax kit and a decongestant. My head was feeling a little stuffy and I wondered if that could be a factor too. I made a mental note to do more research on tinnitus if cleaning my ears didn’t make it go away.

“Do me a favor. Don’t mention the tinnitus to anyone, okay?”

“Why?”

I sighed. “I might as well tell you. You’re going to see it firsthand as soon as we get there.”

“See what?”

“My family has no boundaries when it comes to me. I told you all about how I’m the only one of my generation to be drafted…”

“No, you told me you’d been drafted, but not that you were the only one. How many of your cousins play hockey?”

“Three.”

“And you’re the only one who was good enough?”

I shrugged. “Anyway, the family has a reputation to uphold, which means I have a reputation to uphold, so everyone feels like they have a stake in my career, which means they all think nothing of sticking their noses into every aspect of my life.”

“How annoying. Can’t you tell them to stop?”

“I’ve tried, but it doesn’t work. It’s better to just not give them any ammunition in the first place. Trust me.”

29

Hudson

“Hudson!” Tears in her eyes, my mom embraced me with a squeal then leaned back.

She was a beautiful woman, my mom—tall and lithe with loads of blond hair and a body she worked hard to maintain. She was gracious and warm and loving, generous to a fault and loved company, but she was no pushover. She couldn’t be, not and be married to my dad.

“Smile,” she commanded me.

I obeyed and, as per our ritual, she inspected my mouth, saw that I still had all my teeth, then patted me on the cheek.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked.

My mom waved a hand. “He had something to go to in Minneapolis. He promised he’d be back tomorrow in time for dinner. Indi, darling. I’m so glad you could come.”

“Thank you for having me,” Indi said after the obligatory hug. “You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Forte.”

“Call me Marlene. Would you like a tour?” my mother asked.

“I’d love one,” Indi replied.

Even though I’d told Indi to expect lavishness, I could tell she was still awestruck. I didn’t blame her. I should have told her about the temperature controlled 1500 bottle capacity wine cellar in the basement; the rooftop terrace where the hot tub was, the third-floor terrace off the second kitchen (yes, second kitchen) that was part herb garden, part lounge area; and the phenomenal view of the Manhattan skyline, visible from the fourth and fifth floors.

I worried she was going to look at me differently after she saw, in person, how wealthy we were. It had happened before. Friends who had been perfectly comfortable around me before became suddenly awkward once they realized either who my family was and/or how much money we had.

“I made reservations for the three of us at Alec’s at seven thirty. Indi, that’s a steakhouse, but if you don’t eat red meat they have other options. Personally, the truffle fries there are to die for. So is are the mashed potatoes with truffle butter. It’s like truffle heaven for me every time we go there.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“Indi’s parents own a pizzeria in Brattleboro,” I said.

“Really? How wonderful. Dom wants to open a restaurant but I don’t think it’s a good idea. It seems like a lot of work.”

“It is a lot of work,” Indi said. “The hours are insane and you’re almost never able to take a vacation.”

“Do me a favor,” my mom said. “Tell Hudson’s father about the nitty-gritty reality of restaurant ownership. I think he has this grand idea that he can just breeze in whenever he feels like it, schmooze a little, eat for free and leave.”

“I suppose he could do that, if he had good people working for him,” Indi said. “But honestly, it’s a tough business and if he has no restaurant experience…”

“Just eating in them,” my mom said.

“Then he’s probably better off just investing in someone else’s restaurant. That way, he can say he’s an owner, but doesn’t actually have to do the work or know what he’s doing for that matter.”

My mom looked at her smart watch. “I’m