married,” May said.
“He’s not,” Tobin said.
“How do you know?”
“I checked.”
May’s eyes widened as her friend shrugged apologetically. Tobin had dark hair and wide bright eyes. She gazed out from under her bangs, as if she thought May might be angry.
“What did you do?” May asked.
“I called the Boston Bruins publicity office and said I was a wedding consultant doing a magazine piece on married hockey players, and that I was thinking of including Martin Cartier. Once the guy stopped laughing, he let me know I was out of luck, that Martin is considered practically the most eligible bachelor in the NHL.”
“What’s he doing asking me out to dinner?” May asked.
“He knows a good thing when he sees it,” Tobin said.
May stared down at her sneakers. She was a single mother who had made some mistakes, and her dual mission in life was to raise Kylie right and to help other women have the weddings of their dreams. It had been a long time since she had entertained dreams of her own, much less imagined how it might feel to be rescued from a burning plane and sent roses by the most eligible bachelor in the NHL. Long gone were her beliefs in family magic and love spells working for her the way they did for other women.
“You’ve got maple walnut on your chin,” Tobin said, licking her thumb and wiping the drip off May’s face.
“Thank you,” May said.
“Don’t mention it.”
“First you check up on my hockey player, now you’re cleaning off my face….”
“Well, I do it because your father would want me to,” Tobin said.
May glanced over to see Tobin’s expression. Growing up, the two girls had been like sisters, sleeping over at each other’s houses, going camping and to the movies and the beach with each other’s families. Jokingly, Tobin had sometimes called May’s parents “Mom” and “Dad,” and May had done the same with Tobin’s.
May blinked, listening. “My father,” she said after a minute.
“He’s not here to look after you himself, and I know he’d want the total lowdown on any Boston Bruin chasing after his daughter,” Tobin said.
“So you found out for him.”
Tobin nodded, taking her last bite of vanilla. “And your parents wouldn’t want you riding around Black Hall with ice cream all over your mug either, so I did what I had to do. We’ve probably ruined our dinners, eating these.”
“I won’t tell your kids if you won’t tell mine,” May said.
Shaking on it, the two women climbed on their bikes and headed home down the winding roads.
Five nights later, he called again.
This time, May had found herself hoping he would. She had stayed up late, to watch some of the game before going to bed. The Bruins had won; they’d be going to meet Edmonton in the finals. The sportscaster was ecstatic, and May realized that she was, too. She waited for a while, and she was just about to doze off when she heard the phone ring.
“Did I wake you?” he asked.
“No, not quite,” she said. “Congratulations on making the finals.”
“You heard?” he asked, sounding pleased.
“Yes, I and most of New England. You are certainly the man of the hour.”
Martin chuckled, and May thought she heard voices in the background.
“Is someone there?” she asked.
“Yes. I’m with the team. We’re going out to a restaurant to celebrate.”
May pictured the happy athletes surrounded by beautiful women like the one on the plane, and she thought of what Tobin had said: that he was the most eligible bachelor in the NHL. She’d been crazy, thinking whatever she had been thinking. She and Martin were worlds apart. He was rich and famous, and he could have any woman in the world.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Getting ready for bed,” she said.
“Why don’t you come to New York, eh?” he asked. “It’s just two hours. You could hop on the next train, be here by midnight.”
May laughed nervously. He sounded serious, but she knew he had to
Tracy Wolff, Katie Graykowski