matthew
I walk off the plane and the cold air runs through me. Holding on to the metal stair handle with one hand while I hold my bag in the other, I make my way down the stairs. No one says anything as each of us makes our way over to our respective cars. I’ve just come back from a four-day road trip where we got our asses handed to us on a silver platter. There was nothing good that came out of this road trip, and I’m not the only one glad to be home.
“See you later, Petrov,” I hear Brock, our captain, say as he gets into the truck beside me. I lift my hand as I unlock my doors. Pressing the trunk button, I also toss in my bag with my backpack. I get in the car and make my way over to my house, seeing Helena’s car in the driveway when I get there. We’ve been together for a while and moving in would have been the obvious choice, but to be honest, I never asked her to move in. That and our busy schedule keeps us from even discussing it. She’s also on the road with her pharmaceutical sales job. She works primarily with spas and salons for all cosmetic aspects.
I’m assuming, once we get married, she is going to be moving in, but she hasn’t even brought it up. The only thing she really has at my house is a toothbrush and maybe some shampoo. Whenever she comes over, she always brings an overnight bag, and when she leaves, so does the bag.
I don’t know why, but I’m irritated that she is here right now. After four days on the road, all I wanted was to unwind. I press the button to open the garage door, driving in and parking the car. Turning the car off, I get out and grab my stuff before walking over to the stairs leading to the mudroom. I press the garage door before I walk into the house. I see that Helena’s shoes and purse sit on the gray bench. I kick off my dress shoes and put them to the side before walking into the kitchen.
Helena sits on one of the stools at the island and looks up when she hears me walk in. “Hi.” She smiles at me, not getting up or coming to me.
“Hey,” I greet, walking past her with my bags. “I didn’t know you would be here.”
She looks at me as I walk past her. “I was in the area and figured I’d come work here a bit.”
“Cool,” I say, and I don’t know why it feels fucking awkward. When did it start feeling awkward? Was it always like this? Did I always get irritated when she came over?
I walk past the family room and toward the stairs, making my way to my bedroom. I open one of the double doors before stepping inside and seeing the drapes are open. When I bought this house, it had five bedrooms and I didn’t see the need for all the bedrooms, so I combined two bedrooms to make one massive one. There are six windows across the whole back wall with a sitting area right in front of it with a U-shaped couch I don’t really use. It faces the brick wall that has a fireplace on the bottom and television on top of it. The king-size bed is against the back wall facing everything. Walking onto the plush carpet, I go to the end of the room where the walk-in closet is. I dump my bags there before I shrug off my suit jacket. Unbuttoning the white dress shirt, I pull it out of my pants. I quickly slip into basketball shorts before walking downstairs.
I can hear Helena’s voice as I make my way into the kitchen, going straight over to the fridge. “Tuesday would be amazing,” she says and then I look over as I open a bottle of Gatorade, leaning on the counter behind me. A soon as she puts her phone down, the doorbell rings.
“The food is here.” She gets off the stool and walks over to the front door. She is wearing tight black jeans and a knitted shirt, and I wait for my dick to wake up, but nothing happens. I must be really fucking tired, I think to myself at the same time that my head laughs at me.
She walks back in with two brown carry-out bags. “I ordered you a couple of things since I didn’t know how hungry you were,” she explains, putting the bags on the island as she takes out the black to-go containers. “I got you chicken and also steak,” she says, and I turn to grab two forks and knives before walking over beside her. “I got you a baked potato and also some asparagus.”
“Thank you.” I stand beside her and look at her smiling. She grabs her two black containers as she walks over to where she was sitting, pushing her computer to the side. I pull the stool out beside her, sitting down, and opening my own containers.
“So how was the flight?” she asks as I cut a piece of steak.
“Short, thank God,” I answer, looking over at her. It dawns on me that she didn’t kiss me hello, but then I didn’t kiss her hello either. Have we gone into a room before without kissing each other?
“So I have some news,” she declares, and I look over as she grabs her grilled salmon and pops some into her mouth. “I called Sofia.”
The minute she says her name, everything inside me tingles away. “What?” I say, looking up at her, trying to calm my body down. But it’s as if my body is getting ready to go to war with a hurricane.
Helena doesn’t even catch the change in the room as she continues to eat her salmon, like she didn’t just drop a bomb on me. “I checked your schedule,” she continues slowly, and I want to yell at her to hurry up, but all my words are stuck in the back of my throat. The food I ate starts to come back up. “And I know you have Tuesday off, so we are meeting her at her office.” She smiles at me.
I can’t do anything but blink at her. “Why?” I ask the stupid question. Obviously, I know why.
“Because she is the only one I connected with,” she clarifies. “I met with four other planners since her, and she is the only one who knew what she was doing.”
I look back at my food and wonder if I should tell her who Sofia is. But then, something stops me. “We should go over a couple of things.” I push the food around the containers, thinking about the things we should go over.
“That is why we are meeting with Sofia,” she says, “she is going to help us every step of the way.”
“Have you thought about not having a wedding planner?” I ask. “My aunts and mother are pretty much all party planners at this point.”
“Absolutely not,” she declares, shaking her head. “I’ve met them maybe three times. They don’t know my style, nor do I want to spend that much time with them.”
“What?” I ask, shocked. “My family is a big part of my life.”
“And you can have that part of your life and I’ll be there when I have to be, but they are just—what is the word I’m thinking of?”
“Amazing,” I say, annoyed with her even more than I ever was.
“Pushy,” she replies. “Wait, that isn’t a good word. Overbearing.” She points her fork at me. “That’s an accurate account of them.”
“You don’t even know them,” I say, getting defensive. “You spent what… an hour with them?”
“I spent the whole Sunday with them at the Sunday lunch.” She shakes her head. “Everyone is in everyone’s business. They ask questions that they shouldn’t.”
“Like what?” I’m shocked and pissed. Can my family be overbearing? One thousand and one million percent, but I wouldn’t want anyone else on my side. They are all ride or die. It’s just like, known. You have a problem, you make one phone call, and you have the support of everyone. It’s what I thought every family was until I met Helena’s family, and they didn’t ask me one question about myself. They were prim and proper and the opposite of what my family was like. I knew it then, but I had no idea she felt like this.
“I don’t know, it was just intrusive. Maybe if I knew them better, but it was the second time we met.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I’ll still play nice.” She pushes away from the counter and places the covers on her takeout containers. “I have to go. The girls are having a mini get-together at Sierra’s house.” She puts her stuff in a takeout bag before grabbing it and her computer. She comes by the side of my stool. “I’ll call you later.” She kisses my cheek before she walks to the mudroom.
I look down at my plate, my stomach suddenly sick, and I have to wonder why it’s sick. Is it because we are going to meet Sofia, or is it because she hates my family? “Don’t forget Tuesday,” she calls out right before I hear the door to the garage slam shut behind her.
“Yeah,” I say to the empty room. I don’t bother eating another bite. Instead, I get up and pack everything back up, putting it in the fridge. I look over and see that it’s just after six, but instead of getting comfy on the couch, I walk back to my bedroom.
Sliding onto the bed, I grab the remote and turn on the television. My head is spinning around and around like a hamster on a wheel. I flip the channels, but my head goes back to my first date with Sofia.
After we met at the bar, I walked her home. She let me kiss her, and I swear to God, it felt like I was floating on air. She walked into her apartment, and I walked away, only to go back and ring the bell again. She came out, her face still flustered from when I kissed her. “Are you okay?” she asked me, and all I did was smile at her.
“Yeah,” I said. “Go out with me?”
“Now?” She just tilted her head to the side, and all I could think at that moment was she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. I spotted her right away when she walked into class. I stared at the back of her head and hoped she would turn and look my way. When she did, I swear I heard my jaw hit the floor. Her blue eyes mesmerized me; all I wanted to do was ask her name. I figured I would be able to after class, but nope, she snuck out. When I walked into the bar that night after the game, I never thought I would see her, and when I did, I knew I had to take my shot with her. I thought I was slick. I wasn’t. She let me know right away, and it intrigued me even more.
“Tomorrow.” I said the words even though I would have said yes to them right then.
“I guess so.” She smirked. “We did have a ten-second look, so I’m assuming we have no choice at this point.” I couldn’t stop myself, even if I wanted to, and took a step forward. I wrapped one arm around her waist as I pulled her to me.
“Thank you,” I said right before I took another kiss from her. This one was soft and slow. Her tongue quickly slid into my mouth. Her hands rested on my chest. I would have spent the night kissing her, but I slowly let her go. “Good night,” I said before I stepped down the stairs and walked away from her. “See you tomorrow at five, Princess Sofia.”
I rub my hands over my face to stop thinking about the past. “It’s over,” I tell myself, just like I’ve been telling myself this since I’ve seen her again. “But fuck, is she beautiful.”