“Thanks for letting us sit with you,” I say, tapping Bex’s chair.
Sydney’s gaze travels to the open seat. “Oh, I thought you were here alone.”
“I drove up with my friend, Bex. She’s my roommate. We also play on the same basketball team together.”
“We met Bex at Thanksgiving.”
I nod. “Yes, I believe so.”
“Another basketball player,” Sydney says. “Has Drake told you about his Aunt Charlotte? She played basketball in college, too. Now, she’s a sports agent.”
“I know of Coach,” I say, rubbing my gloved hands together. “She’s a legend.”
“She was my agent when I played hockey,” Carter says, his tone deep and firm. “She’ll be Drake’s agent, too, when he goes pro. If anyone will make him a star, it’s her.”
I smile at his words. Drake’s father is so confident he will take his career to the next level. I love how much faith his parents have in him. Drake’s dream is to become a professional hockey player. It’s all he’s ever wanted to be.
For his sake, I hope that happens. I have no doubt in his talent, though I am realistic. Only a handful of those who want to play actually make it to the NHL. But I’m sure sharing the same last name with a Stanley Cup-winning goalie will help his chances when the Draft comes around.
Bex appears on my right. When she sees Drake’s family, she raises her hand to wave and says hello. She settles in the chair next to me, and Sydney leans over me to speak to her.
“We didn’t know you were coming,” Sydney says to Bex with a smile. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“I wasn’t supposed to be here.” Bex chews on her bottom lip, a hint of hesitation in her demeanor. “But I figured why not? It’s my dad’s first year as head coach and Preston’s last season with the team.”
Not quite the reason she begged me to drive her to Boston, but, okay.
“So,” Sydney says, tapping her long manicured nails on the armrest between us. “Drake mentioned you read my books… and Chloe’s, too.”
Heat burns my cheeks. Why am I embarrassed? She’s the one who writes those dirty stories. I’m only the person who reads them.
“Yes,” I admit. “I’ve read a lot of your books and the series you co-write with Chloe. When I first started talking to Drake, I had no idea you, Sydney Carroway, is his mom. I didn’t make the connection, you know, since your last name is different.”
“Can I tell you a secret?” She leans in close enough for me to feel her breath on my earlobe. “I only wrote under my real name to piss off my father. He hates my profession. But you know what, I love it. Writing sexy books makes me happy. It’s also kept my love life pretty… shall we say, interesting.”
“Mom,” Chloe snaps. “You don’t know how to whisper. We can hear every word over here. Please save everyone from hearing another disgusting story about you and Dad.”
Sydney tilts her head back and laughs. “I don’t tell disgusting stories. I save those for when we write books together.” She clamps her hand down on her daughter’s knee and laughs again.
Chloe chuckles and shakes her head, a tiny smile crossing her lips. “Don’t embarrass him,” she warns.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling,” Sydney coos.
Drake’s mom is a real character. After reading the bio on her website and watching some of her hilarious YouTube videos, I figured she’d be interesting to meet. Drake shared enough with me to provide a clearer picture, but meeting Sydney Carroway in person is a real experience.
Midway through the game, Sydney touches my arm with her long, red fingernails. She leans in close, her sweet perfume filling my nostrils. “I’d like you to come for Easter dinner. I told Drake to ask you, but in case he forgets, I want to personally invite you.”
“You have to come,” Chloe, says leaning over to flash a set of bright white teeth. “Jacque makes the best honey glazed ham with sweet potatoes.”
Confused, I ask, “Who’s Jacque?”
Chloe chuckles. “Oh, Drake didn’t tell you about our chef? Jacque is amazing.”
“He mentioned you have one just not by name.”
“Drake keeps begging Mom to send him to his house to cook for his teammates.”
“Probably because Shannon stopped cooking for them,” Bex says.
“Regan mentioned Jamie’s girlfriend,” Sydney says. “Poor thing, little Jamie.”
I almost laugh at the way she says little Jamie because he’s a big guy, until I remember Jamie is a junior.
“He really screwed that up,” Bex adds. “What an ass?”
Sydney looks taken back by Bex’s forwardness, but she brushes off her comments, clearly made aware of the situation by Jamie’s mom. Their families are so close I doubt there’s a single thing they don’t share with each other, their children’s love lives included.
“So…” Sydney says to me, “… dinner. Will we see you at the house?”