Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 116231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
When I got this space, it was in dire need of a makeover. A typical office with an ugly rug and white walls. It had nothing that screamed “you’re welcome here” or “this is the place that makes a difference.” I worked side by side with Ariella, who made my vision come to life.
The waiting area on the side has a long green couch with two different shades of pink pillows and two single green chairs facing the couch. In the middle of the wall, over the couch are two words: My Choice. My in gold and Choice in green. Above the words are what looks like green leaves with pink flowers covering the top half of the wall, like you stepped into a garden.
“Morning,” Lexi says from her office. “I put coffee on your desk with a cinnamon roll.”
“You are a life saver,” I tell her as I walk into my office. The L-shaped white desk is in the middle of the room with a pink plush chair behind it. Two more pink chairs are to the side of the desk. I dump my bag on the cream-colored couch that faces the desk as I walk around it and see the papers from the event in the middle, the coffee and the cinnamon bun surrounding it. “What are these?” I ask her from my office, pulling out the chair and sitting down.
“Those are for you to contact the winners of the prizes so we can get the checks.” I flip through the papers quickly, seeing Knox’s stupid name on each and every single one. I notice that he’s won at least one prize, his phone number and email beside his name.
“Well, we are definitely not going to call that one.” I pick up the coffee. “That will be an email exchange.”
thirteen
Knox
I slip on my suit jacket and pull the sleeves out, then walk to the chest and take out the cuff links that have my initials on them, slipping one in and then the other. I then put my silver Rolex on before running my hand through my hair. The nerves in my stomach are hitting at full force. It’s the season opener tonight and even though I’ve been doing this for twelve years, it always hits…that first game.
I grab my phone and head out of my bedroom, the sound from the television coming out of the family room. “Okay, I’m out,” I say to the three of them as they watch some movie.
“Okay,” Vincent replies, looking over at me, “try and score a goal tonight for me.”
I smirk at him. “Okay, I’ll try my best.”
“And for me too, Daddy, for me too.” Nora bounces up on her knees over and over. She comes to the back of the couch and looks up at me, and I bend to kiss her forehead.
“For you too,” I agree, and then look at Westley, “and for you.”
“Dad, I don’t think you can score a hat trick,” he deadpans, and I laugh at his bluntness, “but if you do, I’ll throw my hat on the ice.”
“Thanks, buddy,” I respond, turning and seeing the babysitter we’ve used since she was fifteen and is now twenty-one. “The passes for parking and the game are all in there.” I point over to the white envelope. “You can wait for me after the game if the kids are up for it. Just send me a text.”
“Will do, Knox,” she says. “Have a good game.”
I nod my head at her, turning and heading to the garage, taking off my suit jacket before getting in and tossing it to the side. I pull out of the garage, closing the door after, and head over to the coffee shop I always go to before a game. I don’t want to say I’m superstitious about certain things, but I always have the same routine. I pull up and order an iced-shaken espresso before heading to the rink.
As I drive into the garage, I pull behind a car and see Lane get out, honking my horn at him and telling him to hurry up. One of the valet kids jumps in his car to move it, and I laugh when he flips me the bird. I put my SUV in park and then open the door, stepping out. I grab my jacket, putting it on and then pulling my sleeves out before grabbing my phone, sliding it in my inside pocket and then picking up my coffee. I slam the door shut and look over at Clive, the head valet guy. “Hey,” I call, giving him a chin up, “keys are in the cupholder.”
“Have fun tonight,” he says to me, and I smirk.
I start to walk to the door and spot the media right away. “Game day,” I tell one of the cameramen, who holds up his hand to wave hello to me. I pull open the door and step in, seeing people bustling everywhere, walking in and out of different offices with papers in their hands. Last-minute things probably happening behind the scenes. I step into the locker room and see a couple of the guys have beat me here. It’s a seven o’clock game, so usually people start to trickle in around four. I look at my watch, seeing it’s four ten. Putting my coffee on the ledge with my name on it, I slide my jacket off and hang it on the hook behind my jersey. My locker area is set up the way I like it. Gloves and helmet on the first shelf, jersey in the middle on a hanger showing my number, six, and my skates tucked under the bench. I sit down and look over when Kirby walks in followed by Jaxon, both of them holding their own coffee cups in their hands and I give them a chin up before I take a sip of mine.