Darkroom: A Moo U Hockey Romance, Kate Willoughby [best books to read for young adults .TXT] 📗

afraid I have a spa appointment I have to go to now, a facial.” She pursed her lips. “Indi, would you like to come along? I’m sure Brayden could fit you in.”

“Marlene, thank you so much for the offer,” Indi said, “but I’m beat. I’d like to just lay down and rest until dinner.”

“There’s nothing more relaxing than a facial,” my mother said.

“Maybe next time,” Indi said. “I’ve got studying to do too. I only have two more months before the MCAT.”

“All right, I understand. I’ll be back in a couple of hours, you two. In the meantime, there are a few snacks and a bottle of Chardonnay in your room to tide you over.”

After my mom left, Indi said, “Oh my God, Hudson. I feel like I’m staying at a resort. Did you see the shampoo and stuff?” She went into our en suite bathroom. “Your mom told me to take all of this home. Oh my God, this smells so good. Smell this lotion. It’s grapefruit and ginger.”

“It does smell good.”

“And the flowers! They’re gorgeous. Almost as gorgeous as this view. I can’t believe we can see Manhattan from our room!”

There was a large vase of blooms on a small table by the window along with a charcuterie platter. I opened the wine and poured us each a glass.

“Hudson, I’m trying really hard not to be overwhelmed, but…”

“I know,” I said with a rueful smile. “It’s too much. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. Your dad was a professional athlete who worked hard and made a lot of money. This is the result. Now what do you say to…damn. Never mind.”

“What?”

“I was going to suggest we take the wine and the snacks and soak in the hot tub, but I didn’t bring a suit. Why didn’t you tell me to bring a bathing suit?”

I scoffed. “Who needs a suit?”

On Thanksgiving Thursday, Indi was extremely nervous. My two uncles were coming with their families, which meant a total of thirteen family members she had to meet. I told her she had nothing to worry about, but truthfully, I’d never brought a girl home for Thanksgiving before and everyone was bound to be curious.

As a result, Indi took forever to get ready. She dithered about every aspect of her appearance until I almost ran out of patience. Eventually, she settled on a red sweater (not the yellow blouse with the tiny white flowers) and brown plaid skirt (not the black slacks or skinny jeans) over tights and high-heeled leather boots (not loafers or Uggs).

“It’s not too casual?” she asked.

“No. It’s perfect. Even though it’s catered, everyone’s going to dress fairly casual.”

It didn’t take long for her to relax. My family was pretty down to earth, but the free-flowing champagne helped. Along with the bubbly, the caterers offered platters of appetizers—creamy Brie and apricot puffs, deviled eggs with applewood smoked bacon, along with mini leek, mushroom and Gruyere quiches.

Indi said something to me under her breath.

“What was that?”

“I said everything is so good. And so fancy.”

“It’s Thanksgiving, Forte-style,” I said. “We’ve used this company for the past several years and they’re top-notch. One of the servers told me they’ve catered for some real top-tier celebrities. Taylor Swift, Kevin Bacon…”

“Wow.”

“Save room for dinner and dessert,” I told her. “There’s a lot more where this came from.”

A commotion took place at the front door as my dad finally arrived.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said in his booming voice as he trudged up to where we were gathered on the second floor. “Mother Nature wasn’t cooperating in Minneapolis. I’m lucky I got here at all.”

He brought his luggage upstairs and came back down about fifteen minutes later wearing a sport jacket and slacks. After someone put a drink in his hand, I brought Indi over to him.

“Dad, this is Indi, my girlfriend.”

He gave Indi a once over. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

“Yes, you did, Dad. I told you about her.”

My dad shrugged and shook her hand perfunctorily. “Glad you could come, Mindy.”

“It’s Indi and I’m happy to have been invited. Your home is beautiful.”

“Thanks. Sorry, but I have to talk to my brother about something.” And he walked away.

“I don’t think he likes me,” Indi said, looking worried.

“He just needs time to warm up to you. He’s always a little bristly at first.”

But I only said that to make her feel better. My dad usually turned on the charm with women, but apparently, he still thought I needed to concentrate on hockey to the exclusion of all else and he wasn’t above being rude to Indi in order to get his point across to me.

Dinner was more traditional, but still souped up. With truffles, of course. Black truffle butter turkey, green bean casserole with thyme and cremini mushrooms, herb and fennel dressing and several other gourmet sides.

For Indi’s sake, I tried several times to introduce non-hockey topics, but the conversation always circled back to hockey. Everyone in the family was either a hockey player or a hockey fanatic.

“Hudson, you sound a little stuffed up,” Uncle Rick said. My dad’s youngest brother played for the Rangers.

“You’re not getting sick are you?” my mom asked.

Conversation stopped. All eyes zeroed in on me.

“Me? No. I’m fine. It’s allergies.”

Which didn’t stop the horde from spouting off their suggestions, because God forbid I fall ill, not be able to play and thereby lose a chance to rack up points.

“I swear by this organic tea,” one of my aunts said. “It’s made with ginger and gingko biloba. I’ll text you the brand.”

“The best thing to do when you feel a cold coming on is to suck down that Airborne stuff like crazy.” This came from Uncle Matt.

Uncle Rick scoffed. “That doesn’t work, but I’ll tell you what does. Close yourself in the bathroom and run the shower at maximum heat until the hot water runs out. Breathe the steam way down deep into your lungs and drink a half gallon of orange juice that day.”

Uncle Rick