Retrouvailles

Sidney had started crossing off days on the calendar as soon as February rolled around. It was small, one of those disposable ones that sat on his desk and was easy to hide in case one of his teammates dropped by unexpectedly. It wasn’t that he was trying to keep it a secret—most of the organization knew about his conversation with Loren the day they resumed practice—but he didn’t want them butting in. He felt he was doing a good enough job on his own. As much as he appreciated his teammates, he needed to do this by himself.

However, once the first week of February came and went, he began to stress. He only had eleven days to come up with a plan and so far he had nothing. X’ing out dates on a calendar wasn’t going to get him anywhere substantial; it wouldn’t give him anything to show up at Loren’s doorstep with. He’d been trying so hard to do it on his own but that plan folded despite his valiant effort to hold it together.

On February 12th, he called Jordan. He asked if he was stressing too much to which Jordan scoffed and replied with an obviously sarcastic, “No way, man!” Jordan didn’t know what to tell his captain. There had only been a few times he was successfully romantic; the rest of the time he winged it and hoped for the best. He was lucky in the sense that his fiancee still thought the world of him even when he fucked up. That wouldn’t be the case for Loren and Sid. The latter couldn’t afford to go to Philadelphia without a game plan.

So Jordan kept quiet, agreeing to whatever he thought would appease the body on the other end of the line. He could’ve agreed to help him burn down Consol and not have realized it. By the time Sidney was beginning to calm down—a whopping two hours later—Jordan was ready to burn down Consol. He didn’t even talk to his girlfriend that long.

After realizing how useless Jordan was, Sidney called Vero, Marc-Andre Fleury’s fiancee. He was sure that if anyone could help him, it was her. She answered on the second ring, enthusiastic and sympathetic to his cause. As many questions as Sid thought he had, Vero had more. Loren was a mystery to everyone—him included—so thinking up a plan to win her over was harder than he thought it’d be. Would she want flowers? Should he hire a plane to write his apologies in the sky? He’d hire her favorite band to write a please-date-Sidney-Crosby song just for her if he had to, if only he knew who it was.

“She worked with you for ten months, oui?” Vero asked.

“Right.”

“And you know nothing about her?” Sidney didn’t reply, too ashamed of his ignorance, and Vero gasped. “Sidney!”

“She spent eight and a half months hating me!”

“Vous avez le cervau d'un sandwich au fromage!”

Unlike most of his teammates—and the woman he was on the phone with—Sidney wasn’t fluent in French. However, he was pretty confident that Vero had just told him he had the brain of a cheese sandwich. While such an insult was probably hilarious to anyone listening in on their conversation, Sidney wasn’t laughing. Vero was right. He was so hellbent on winning her over yet he knew next to nothing about her. He knew the basics: her name, birthday, birthplace, and that her favorite movie was Casablanca. What good was that going to do him?

“Help me,” he whined. “I only have a few days!”

She sighed. “Je ne sais pas.”

“If you were in Loren’s position, what would you want Flower to do?”

His question was met by a brief silence. “I think you are thinking about this too much.”

“What?”

“I think that if she were the type to want a big show, you would know.”

Sidney stared blankly at the wall in front of him. “Then what am I supposed to do? Show up empty-handed?”

“Oui,” Vero agreed. “I think she just wants to know she can count on you.”

This time it was Sidney’s turn to stay silent. He hadn’t thought of that. It seemed obvious: what good were presents going to do if he didn’t show up at all? He’d wasted eight and a half months making Loren’s life hell. If he was serious about everything he’d told her, he needed to prove it. She’d gone and made a new life for herself. She’d even told him she was happy there. Why would she leave all that behind to go through another eight and a half months of torture?

“You’re right,” he finally replied.

“I know. I am a woman. Women know these things.”

Sid couldn’t argue with that. After all, Vero was the one getting married in just a few months while he was asking how to win over a woman he was still sure wanted nothing to do with him.



Loren had a tendency to overwork herself. Work was a distraction, and when something in her life caused her to need one, she went about doing mundane tasks with 110% more effort than normal. This didn’t go unnoticed by her coworkers; nor did it go unnoticed by the few friends she’d made on the Flyers. One Frenchman in particular had kept a close eye on her per request of an old friend.

“You look like you could use some dinner.”

The sound of Max’s voice caused Loren to nearly jump out of her skin. She’d been sitting at her desk all day typing various press releases. She hadn’t even noticed her lunch break had come and gone almost five hours ago.

“Jesus, Max! A little warning would be nice.”

Max chuckled. “Seriously. Your eyes are starting to burn holes in the screen.”

“I’m almost finished,” Loren answered. Truthfully, she’d typed and retyped the same release four times. Every time she reviewed it, nothing sounded right. One sentence was too jumbled; another wasn’t concise enough. She’d just about had it with Chris Pronger’s knee surgery when Max offered to take her out. “Where were you thinking about going?”

Max shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

Loren looked up at him over the top of the monitor. “Why do I feel like going anywhere with you is a bad idea?”

“Loren!” Max scolded, placing a hand over his heart. “That hurt.”

“Sorry,” she shrugged. She scanned the document one last time, fixed a few grammatical errors, and sent it off to the appropriate recipients. “All done. Now, where were we?”

“You’d just insulted me, completely broke my heart…”

“Oh please,” Loren scoffed. She stood from her chair, matching Max’s height with the pair of heels she was wearing, and grabbed her coat. “You Frenchmen are so dramatic.”

Max rolled his eyes. “If you think we’re dramatic, you should hang out with an Italian.”

A smile broke out on Loren’s face, making Max feel like he’d just won the lottery. Loren didn’t smile much. He wasn’t sure if that was new, something that only started since she moved to Philadelphia, but he was sure that it had been worth the wait.

Jordan hadn’t given him many details when he asked Max to keep an eye on her. Out of his own curiosity, Max asked if his former teammate’s request had anything to do with Sidney. When Jordan didn’t reply right away, Max knew his assumptions had been correct. However, Jordan didn’t feel it was his place to share the details so he kept them to himself. Even though Max had switched teams, he was still friendly with his ex-teammates. He agreed to Jordan’s request without having to think twice.

“Where to, Mr. Talbot?”

“You can call me Max, you know.”

Loren shrugged as the pair made their way through the office. It was nearing closing time, but a few of her coworkers were still milling about. Usually they were able to leave as soon as their work was finished, which was usually around five-o’clock for most of them. Tonight, no one eyed her as she left. Either they’d gotten over her presence in the office or they’d wait until she was out of earshot to voice their displeasures.

“Do they give you a hard time?” Max asked, noticing the way she avoided eye contact with everyone.

“Not so much anymore,” Loren answered. “They used to. I think they thought I was here to find a husband rather than to do my job.”

“They think that about everyone. Not just the PR people, but literally everyone.” Max paused. “My car or yours?” Loren shrugged, indifferent to whose vehicle they took. Max ushered her into his BMW before resuming. “Anyway, everyone’s that way in this world. They’re all suspicious, every last one of them.”

“But why? What business is it of theirs?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s just something to make them feel important, you know? They’ve been there longer so they deserve respect…or something.”

Loren sighed. “Unless they’re on that Sister Wives show, it shouldn’t be anyone’s business but whoever’s in the relationship.”

“I don’t think polygamy would go over well with the media,” Max joked.

“You’re right,” Loren agreed. “I never learned how to deal with polygamy accusations while I was in school.”

“What did they teach you?”

“You know, the usual stuff: how to dispel rumors, true or not true, how to deal with your client being a dirtbag, how to control your body language during important things like press conferences—”

“Sounds boring.”

Loren laughed. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Max slowed to a stop at one of the many lights on Broad Street. “This is a strange city, isn’t it?” Loren asked what he meant. “I don’t know. There are millions of people living here yet it still feels kind of personal. When I signed here, I was scared to death. I thought someone would stab me outside of my place, but the first time someone recognized me after the announcement, they offered to buy me a drink.” Loren laughed again. “They said it was about time I came to a ‘worthwhile city.’”

“Do you ever miss Pittsburgh?”

Max sighed. “Sometimes, especially when we play there or they play here, but how much am I allowed to miss it when I made the choice to leave?”

“I think you’re allowed to miss it all you want.” Max stole a glance at her as the light turned green. “I miss it, too.”

“The city or a certain big-lipped captain?”

Loren turned a deep pink. “What are you talking about?”

“Ah-ha! I had a feeling—”

“Shut up, Maxime.”

“Are you embarrassed?”

“No! It’s just none of your concern—”

“You’re embarrassed!” he teased. “Oh my god, you’re turning purple.”

“Shut up!”

“Do you love him? Do you want to have big-lipped children with him? Do you want to marry him?”

“I hate you so much,” Loren growled.

Max just beamed. “Wanna go to Spasso?”

“The sooner I can get out of this car, the better.”

“Spasso it is.”

Loren hadn’t been in Philadelphia long but she already knew that Old City was her favorite part. The cobblestone streets, the antique stores, the history—everything her hometown didn’t have, she fell in love with in Philadelphia. When Claude Giroux had played a prank on Brayden Schenn, one of the many rookies and Claude’s current roommate, leaving him stranded at the Wells Fargo Center without a ride home, Loren offered to drive him and found herself in awe of that part of the city.

Spasso was an Italian restaurant right on the Penn’s Landing waterfront. She’d only been there once, at Sarah’s insistence, and it quickly became one of her favorite places. The food was reasonably priced for how incredible it tasted. The homemade wine helped, too.

Despite her objections, Max opened her door and lead her inside. From what he’d heard from his teammates, the staff at Spasso was very welcoming to the city’s professional athletes. They didn’t make a fuss over them so Max was guaranteed a quiet evening.

“How many?” the hostess asked with a smile.

“Two.”

She grabbed a pair of menus. “Right this way, please.”

Loren and Max followed behind her without a word. She seated them in the banquet room in the front left corner. There, they were given a beautiful view of Penn’s Landing and were away from prying eyes. Loren had yet to adjust to the new lifestyle that came along with her line of work so she was grateful. She didn’t want to be defined by the company she kept but it seemed inevitable: as long as she went out in public with professional hockey players, she was going to be treated like one by association.

“Have you been here before?” Max asked, eyeing the menu halfheartedly.

Loren nodded. “I came here a few weeks ago with my neighbor.”

“You have a neighbor?”

“Sarah,” she confirmed.

“Is she cute?”

“Max,” Loren warned.

“Would you rather me go out and find a girlfriend on my own?”

“No, probably not.”

He smirked. “Well, then.”

“She isn’t interested in hockey players.”

“How do you know?”

“She asked me if Sid was on the women’s gymnastics team the first day we met.”

Max snorted. “Are you serious?”

“Yep. She had no idea who he was.”

“Not even from the Olympics?”

Loren shook her head. “Didn’t watch them. Apparently she doesn’t read the newspaper either.”

“Wow. Did you tell him this?”

Loren froze. “No. We, uh—we only started talking again recently.”

“Really? How come?”

“When I got—when I left, we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.”

Max didn’t press for more details, just accepted Loren’s story with a nod of his head. “So what changed?”

“What?”

“You all but admitted you’re in love with him, right? So something had to change.”

Loren shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess those feelings had always been there but I didn’t realize it until I left Pittsburgh.”

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere.”

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Being with him, Max. He’s Canada’s prodigal son, not to mention the closest thing to royalty Pittsburgh will ever have. Could you imagine the world finding out he has a girlfriend? Not to mention it’s his former publicist who now works for the Flyers.”

“But wouldn’t it be worth it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want that life.”

“What life?”

“The WAG life. I don’t want to sit in a box and watch him play hockey. I don’t want to do charity events and go to dinners and have to keep up appearances just to maintain my relationship.”

“Who says you have to?”

“It’s the lifestyle. It’s how things work in the hockey world. It’s just how it is.”

Max shrugged. “I don’t know, cherie. You don’t seem like the type of person to adhere to rules.”

A waiter came by to take their orders, providing Loren with a much-needed break from the conversation. Max was forcing her to think about things she hadn’t thought about before. If she kept that up she’d be on the next flight to Pittsburgh, and she couldn’t have that.

“I know my opinion doesn’t count for much,” Max said, “but Sid is a good guy. I can’t imagine he’d put you through all this trouble only to let you down in the end.”

Loren sighed. “That’s the problem, Max. I don’t think I can agree to this and walk away somewhere down the line.”

A small smile appeared on Max’s face. “You’re afraid of forever.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.”