PART FOURTEEN

My cell phone's shrill ring jolted me awake at ten the next morning. I flipped it open without looking at the ID and shot a guilty look at Sidney, who was sleeping beside me. He hadn't even stirred.

"Hello?" I said quietly as I carefully climbed out of bed and pulled on my robe.

"So you are still alive," Brad replied. "How are you feeling?"

I closed the bedroom door behind me and moved into the living room. "I feel fine," I replied uncomfortably. Sidney and I had left the club together last night, meaning I basically ditched Brad.

"That's good, because I feel like I've been hit by a car." He paused, inducing a painfully tense silence. "So, uh, you left Tré with Crosby."

I took a deep breath before entering the unpleasant conversation. "Yeah. I'm really sorry, Brad. I didn't mean to lead you on or anything…things have just been kind of messed up lately. Going out last night was a mistake, and I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"Oh, no, don't worry about it. What do I have on Sidney Crosby, right?" he replied with a forced laugh. "But, yeah, I was just calling to make sure you're not dying, and I wanted to tell you I had a good time last night. Thanks for coming out."

"Sure. Thanks for inviting me," I replied awkwardly. I knew Brad was expecting a response somewhere along the lines of 'we'll have to do it again sometime,' but I was certain there wouldn't be a next time. Especially now that I had Sid back.

"Alright. See you tomorrow, then."

"Bye." I flipped my phone shut and exhaled loudly. Good job, Karine. Work won't be awkward at all.

"Who was on the phone?" Sid asked sleepily as I crawled back into bed.

"No one important," I replied, kissing him on the cheek. He pulled me into him and I traced circles on his bare stomach with my finger.

"Was it the guy you were with last night?"

"Come on Sid, don't ruin this. He obviously doesn't matter." I climbed on top of him and nipped at his neck. "No one is a match for Sidney Fucking Crosby," I added playfully.

"Except for Karine Fucking Lemieux," he replied, pulling me into a passionate kiss. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," I whispered, burying my face in his neck.

"You know what I've really missed though?"

"Hmm?"

"Your crêpes. Will you make some for me?"

I laughed and stepped out of bed. "You are such a guy." Sid pulled on his boxers and followed me into the kitchen. "You're lucky you're good in bed, kid. Otherwise I wouldn't put up with your shit."

Sid laughed and followed me into the kitchen. "You know I'm more than just a pretty face," he replied, shooting me that adorable grin of his.

"Yeah. I guess you're kind of okay at hockey, too."

"Hey, I'm better than you."

"I'm out of practice," I retorted, mixing batter for crêpes. "If you would have played me when I was 17, you wouldn't have a chance."

"Why did you stop playing?"

I shrugged. "I couldn't go pro, and if I couldn't make a career out of hockey I didn't want to play competitively at all."

"That's stupid."

"You wouldn't understand. I mean, you've always been Sidney Crosby—"

"Sidney Fucking Crosby," he corrected playfully.

I grinned. "Sidney Fucking Crosby. You always knew you were going to go pro. You never had to deal with the disappointment that comes with being a girl in a world dominated by male athletes."

"You could have coached or something though. At least at the high school or college level."

I shrugged. "I wasn't interested in coaching. I'm interested in playing. For money. But that will never happen, so I just sucked it up and moved on."

My phone vibrated on the countertop and I looked at the ID. My mother. Wonderful. "Hi, Mom," I greeted in a falsely enthusiastic voice.

"Our plane is leaving at one, so your father and I were going to pop over and say goodbye. Are you home?"

"Yeah, I'm here. See you in a few." I snapped my phone shut. "Put on some pants," I said to Sid.

"Why?"

"Because my parents are coming." I laughed at his terrified expression as he hurried into my bedroom. All the horror stories I had told him about my mother had obviously had an affect. I flipped a crêpe onto his plate and joined him in my bedroom. I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and an old tee shirt and poured more batter into the skillet, this time adding some chocolate chips.

A few minutes later, I opened my door and greeted my parents. Their eyes immediately flew to Sidney, who was sitting at the table and stuffing crêpes into his mouth.

"Are you Sidney?" my mother asked.

Sid swallowed and held out his hand. "Yeah. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lemieux."

"Likewise." She turned to me and looked at me with surprised etched on her face. "Should I even ask?" she asked in rapid French.

I shook my head as my father shook Sid's hand. "Alain Lemieux. Pleasure to finally meet you." My father turned to me and handed me a rectangular box. "We brought you a present!"

I pulled the lid of the box open and frowned at my parents, very confused by the contents. "Plane tickets?"

"Yep!" my father replied happily.

"Now you have no excuses to not come home for Christmas," my mother explained.

I looked at the date of the flight: December 23rd. "Clever," I muttered.

"We'll buy you a return ticket, too. We just weren't sure when you'd want to leave," my father explained.

I noticed a second ticket tucked in the box. "There are two tickets here."

"We thought you might want to bring—" my mother's eyes flickered to Sidney— "a friend. Or someone."

"Riiight. Well, thanks."

"I see Karine made you crêpes," my father said to Sidney, glancing at his plate with a wistful stare.

"Would you like some, Dad?" I asked. Crêpes were the only thing I could cook, and my father loved them. He'd told me on more than one occasion they were much better than my mothers—he never admitted this around her, though.

"No, no," he replied reluctantly. "We'd better get going. Don't want to miss our flight."

"Alright. Thanks for stopping by." I gave them both a hug and a kiss.

"We'll see you at Christmas," my mother replied decisively. "It was nice to meet you, Sidney."

"Nice to meet you, too," he replied tensely. My parents left and Sid returned to his crêpes. "Your mom is kind of intimidating."

"You have no idea," I replied, staring at the plane tickets.

"Did you tell them you weren't going home for Christmas or something?" he asked.

"No, but they probably expected me to come up with a last-minute excuse. But since they bought the tickets I have to use them." I paused and looked at him. "So, are you coming to Montreal with me or do I have to ask my other boyfriend?"

"I would love to go with you. But right now," he said, picking me up and carrying me into the bedroom, "I have to convince you to break up with this other boyfriend of yours."

"Oh yeah? How are you going to do that?"

He dropped me onto the bed and smirked. "I have a few ideas."