Being away from Rosie is hard; always has been. Whether it's because we were talking through a phone and I couldn't physically be with her because I was (sort-of) lying about who I was, or now, because I have to accompany the team on the road trip.
This time, though, I'm kind of looking forward to it. Because it means that I can finally get her ring and stop sweating through about five shirts a day, trying to keep when I'll be proposing a surprise.
I guess maybe not technically a surprise by the definition of the word, because she does know I plan on doing it somewhat soon. What she doesn't know, though, is that I intend on doing it when I get back from the road, at a romantic dinner for two at her favorite restaurant.
I'm not gonna try and pretend that I came up with the idea, myself. I did seek advice from all the married men I know: my brother and Quentin (who may as well be hitched, all things considered). And aside from listening to them ask if I was sure about this, given how long we've actually been dating, and listening to them give me a lecture about prenups, they gave some half-decent words of wisdom.
I'm still not getting a prenup, though. Because I do think those are bullshit; if you really are that concerned with someone taking all your money, don't marry them. I know Rosie would never do that and I know that we'll be together, forever.
"You nervous?" Quentin asks me after I show him the ring, the two of us huddled in my hotel room thanks to a free day in Montreal. Neither of us speak French and Kayden's too busy trying to ask random cafes for a ménage à trois, to be present.
I chew on the inside of my mouth, looking at the ring in my hands. It's from some fancy designer whose name I can't pronounce for the life of me. But it's what Rosie wants - well, not exactly what she wants because she said something from Tiffany's would be okay; and nothing against that, but I'm not gonna have her wearing something like that for the rest of her life, when I can afford better.
So, I scribbled down the details of the ring and after those being completely useless and the jeweler just asking for the link to the ring she liked, I got her something of the same style. Cut, clarity, and a bunch of other C's I don't remember or understand, even though at this point, about three different people have explained them to me.
It's not that I don't care to understand them, it's just, dudes aren't the best with understanding jewelry - other than that giving it can occasionally get us laid. And that unless you want the person's ring falling off, you'd better find out her ring size (that one I learnt from Link).
"Nah." I answer, lying just a little. I wouldn't say I'm nervous, just a little anxious. Which I guess is the same thing. I think I know what her answer is gonna be; I mean, if she was gonna say no, I assume that she wouldn't be talking about us spending the rest of our lives together, how many kids we're gonna have, and how cute I'm gonna look with grey hair and wrinkles.
As if she can tell I'm thinking about her, my phone starts ringing a second later.
"It's Rosie." I explain to Quentin, despite the fact that he can probably tell that from the ringtone - and the fact that my phone is ringing at all. Most times, I have it on that focus mode thing that Apple has, the only person being able to actually get a hold of me, being my girl. Otherwise, I just end up with my phone pinging every five seconds when I'm trying to relax or do something.
Plus, nobody else is really that important. Most of them just want something.
He nods, understanding the difficulty of getting some face time when you're in a relationship and on the road. That, and he has a pregnant fiancé that calls him sobbing every five minutes because the supermarket doesn't have mint chocolate chip ice cream.
"Hey baby." I greet her, after answering the Facetime call. She's wearing her hair in one of those messy buns and looks to be sporting one of my big t-shirts, which is always super fucking adorable to see. It's nice knowing that she misses me, as much as I miss her.
"I'll catch you later." Quentin tells me, patting my back before waving over at my phone. "Hi Rosie." And with that, he's walking out the door - leaving us, alone. That's one of the perks of sharing a room with someone that's in a relationship, they get it. Unlike when I room with Kayden and he would poke me every five seconds because he was bored.
I guess that's one of the tough parts about growing up and then reuniting with old friends: people change. Guys that you used to be close to, you find you have little in common with beyond being on the ice together. So, you crack jokes and shoot the shit when you need to, to maintain that line chemistry or whatever, but when it comes down to real life, you're just not that close.
"How was work?" I ask Rosie, knowing that Portland is three hours behind us and she's probably just gotten home. I hope she took the truck and didn't take the bus. I hate the idea of her walking to the bus or being on the subway at odd hours, usually really early in the morning because she likes to get to work well ahead of everyone else.
And it's not like she hasn't gotten harassed by people in the past - even before we went public as a couple. Which for most people means posting something cheesy on Instagram, but for us, was probably when we got caught making out in the night club.
She smiles, leaning back in and laying against the pillows. I'd love to be there with her. "It was good." She answers, pausing before continuing. "Danielle mentioned they're gonna be looking for another administration coordinator for the new arena. Said I should apply."
I smile for her, knowing how much she's been wanting a job with the Pirates - an actual one that pays what she deserves. "That's amazing, Ro." I tell her, imagining what life will be like next year when she's working for the Pirates - completely done school, and we're playing at the new rink. "You're a shoe-in, for sure. The whole applying thing is probably just a formality." I think aloud, not knowing how a place couldn't give someone as hard working as her, a full time job - especially after working there for two semesters as an intern.
Even for someone that knows nothing about working in an office, I know that when a place sees someone they like and wants to keep, they'll do whatever they can to keep them. Especially when they're young, ambitious, and have their whole life ahead of them and plan to stay with the organization. Which - apart from me getting traded (which can't happen for a few years, anyway), is what Rosie intends to do.
"I hope so." She agrees, chewing on her lip and seeming to be a little in her head about it. She's quiet for a few minutes and I take the opportunity to lay on my bed (the hotel bed that's definitely not as comfortable as the one we share) and imagine myself in bed with her.
Okay, maybe I won't say that last part out loud.
"I miss you." I tell her, instead, opting for something that maybe makes me sound just a little bit less clingy. Or cringy. Though, at this point, I think she's used to me being all over her. And not just in a purely sexual way; even just holding her hand or touching her thigh. I just need to be touching her, all the time. And when I can't, it kinda kills me. "How's my replacement doing?" I ask, referring to who we joke about being my fill-in, when I'm not there.
She looks over at the stuffed elephant, momentarily turning the camera to where he's tucked into the sheets. "He's doing well. Not sure if you're gonna have a job when you get home, though." She jokes.
I laugh, pretending to be jealous. "Yeah, right. I'll be putting him in the drawer if he so much as tries to put up a fight."
She shakes her head at me, laughing a little, herself. "I miss you." She tells me, the amount of emotion in her voice, reaffirming what I already know - that I'm making the right decision.