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leafs-lover · 2 years

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Too Far Gone - Part Thirty Six

Series Masterlist

Warnings: very brief mentions of drinking, swearing, some fluff, little pain

Word Count: 4300

September 1, 2019

For early September, the sun is strikingly hot. Tia can feel it prickling the nape of her neck, her skin burns from sitting with the windows down all day.

Heavy brown eyes are trained on the beautiful brick home with a double car garage and perfectly landscaped lawn. There isn’t a single weed in the garden that is flowing with Hydrangea’s, Hostas and brightly coloured flowers, a large sugar maple in the middle of the luscious green grass.

Ever since that day when Tia couldn’t leave the bus stop, she has made progress. She returned a few days later and walked by five houses before she froze. A few days later she made it to the end of Shavers Street but was unable to turn onto Downing – the street where Kylie lives. The next time she made it onto Downing Street, but not to her house. Every time she has made it a little bit further. Today she found Kylie’s house staring back at her.

Nobody knows that for the last month she has been trying to muster the strength to walk up the driveway and knock on Kylie’s door. She hasn’t seen her friends since Beck’s birthday because they will instantly know she is hiding something, and she can’t tell them this.

But really, what would she say? “I took 115 steps on a road before turning around and going to fuck Thomas” – because almost every time she doesn’t make it to Kylie’s door she ends up at his. Fucking, drinking, partying with his friends, taking lines. He patches the leaking holes within her heart wellenough for her to carry on and try again.

With Auston and Taylour in Arizona, she decided today was the day. She had made it within three houses a few days ago, at this point there was only one place left to go. To the front door.

She asked to borrow Auston’s car - and of course he said yes. He was thankful she was finally asking him for help, even though something so small. He has no idea that she drove it for less than twenty minutes and has since spent the last five hours parked on the street of an expensive upper-middle class Etobicoke neighbourhood.

It has been five hours of reaching for the door handle, only to slump back against the sticky leather seat. Five hours of bringing her hand over the starter button ready to scurry home, only to mutter how it was stupid to leave emptyhanded after finally making it this far. It has been five hours of sitting in the ridiculously expensive car, windows down and leather burning the backs of her thighs while she thought of what to say.

So far, she has come up with, ‘Hi I’m Tia’ but what comes next?

During the last five hours she watched a blue Ford focus pull up beside a silver Nissan Murano and two kids - Tia guessed to be between 8 and 12 - ran across the lawn into the house. A middle-aged man with glasses and dark hair not far behind them. He went inside and a few minutes later came outside to cut the grass. Since then, he watered the garden and lawn, put air in the boys’ bike tires, then started on organizing the garage.

One of the neighbours has three kids and their daughter plays softball. Another went grocery shopping and the older couple across the street took their shih tzu on a walk but stopped to talk to him on their way by. A seemingly normal and boring afternoon, for the boring residents of Downing Street.

The house while older is well maintained. It is large, easily a four-bedroom, maybe even five, probably with a large eat in kitchen. Tia has spent five hours observing everything about this house and found herself wondering if the kitchen gets used for family dinners, if the living room holds game nights, or if the backyard is spent hosting barbeques and pool parties.

At times throughout the day, she saw herself there, occupying that fourth bedroom, joining in on Sunday breakfasts, hopping on the TTC for Friday nights in the city. She saw herself growing up with height notches in door frames, and cliche school pictures lining the hallway. She wondered if Kylie and Paul would have stayed together, or if she would have spent half her summer in whatever city her dad was stationed in, the other half in Toronto with Kylie and her brothers. Are those two boys her stepbrothers or half brothers?

Tia ran through a million scenarios, but they all stopped when the front door opened and out stepped Kylie.

5’7” with long wavy chestnut brown hair, she has on a pair of high rise dark washed cropped jeans, a simple olive-green t-shirt on that is tucked into the front. A nude coloured YSL purse is thrown over her shoulder, and a pair of dark framed sunglasses covering her eyes.

She walks up to the man Tia has spent the afternoon watching and they talked for a minute. Her smile grew and her head fell back with a soft laugh as she gave his arm a squeeze. With a brief kiss to the lips, she climbed into the driver’s seat of the Murano and drove down the street.

It was a simple interaction, but one that left Tia with a pit in her stomach. She didn’t realize how much she unconsciously wanted that to be her life until Kylie drove away, and once again she was left with nothing.

“Wow!” Taylour gasps under his breath watching Brey take a shot.

With it being their last day in Arizona until the following summer, they planned a fun day with his family. Auston and Fred went to the rink early in the morning with his mom and Taylour. They watched them practice with some of the Coyotes players that have returned to prepare for the upcoming season.

Once everyone left Auston laced up Taylour’s skates and put on his helmet and gloves, handed him his freshly cut and taped stick, and for the first time he brought out a puck. Fred stood in the net, and Auston stood behind Taylour, helping him take shots. Auston helped Taylour maneuver the ice with a stick and skates, and Taylour giggled every time Fred let the puck slide past him.

Ema stood on the bench taking pictures and videos and Taylour never wanted to leave. He only did when they told him they could watch the Zamboni and go to mini putt. Once the boys had showered, they all jumped in his car and drove to the course where the rest of the family was already waiting.

Taylour of course had to shoot first and giggled when the ball bounced out the course into the small garden beside it. Auston was next, then Fred, but he has been in awe of Breyana - who has had some stellar shots, even a hole in one.

“So good Auntie Brey!” he jumps up when her ball stops inches from the hole. “You teach me?” he cranes to look up at her.

“Don’t want me to teach you?” Auston retorts, somewhat bitterly, but also smirking at his sister.

“Auntie Brey is better than you Daddy,” Taylour replies bluntly. Even though Auston should be offended, the sweetness and innocence in his son’s voice makes it impossible.

Raising her eyebrows, Breyanna grins at Auston, “hear that? Your son said I am better than you.”

“At mini putt,” Auston shrugs it off, trying to not let it get to him, but being an athlete, he is conditioned to win. “Get you on some skates and we’ll see who is better,” Auston mutters under his breath.

“Such a sore loser,” Alex teases stepping up to the tee.

“Hit it here,” Taylour runs over and touches a spot on the side the edge of the course. “It will bounce and then go over there,” he points towards the hole.

“Right there?” Alex points her club in the direction where he is standing, and he smiles wide nodding back at her. Auston lifts Taylour and places him a few feet over, off the course letting Alex line up her shot. He excitedly watches her take the shot with wide and beaming eyes as the ball hits the wood plank about six inches shy of where he pointed, and it ricochets towards the corner.

“Good try Auntie Alex!” he runs over to her for a high five. “You’ll get it next time.”

Tia knew she should have left.

When Kylie drove off so did the answer to every question Tia had. But finally seeing Kylie changed everything, it all became real. That was her mom; she was thirty feet away, and nothing could have prepared her for that.

Nausea rose up her throat and threatened to spill on the floor of Auston’s $100,000 Porsche. Her hands trembled and her breathing became uneasy, rapid, and shallow. She was thankful for the faint breeze that started to dance through the trees, it helped to cool the sticky sheen of sweat rippling down her spine.

“Hello?” the knocking on metal slowly draws Tia out of it. A silhouette steps in front of the sun, blocking the glare. Blinking a few times to allow her eyes to adjust her stomach flips. Its him.

“Hi, can I help you?” Tia doesn’t answer, struggling to formulate a thought let alone words. “You’ve been sitting here for a while, staring at me.” Annoyance and confusion are heavy in his words.

“I…I…uh…” Reaching for to start the car, all words are lost on her. “I have to go.”

“I have your plate number, if you don’t tell me why you’ve been sitting here for hours, you can tell the cops.”

With the warm sun falling behind Camelback Mountain, their last night in Arizona for the year is coming to a close. After a busy day filled with mini putt, swimming, Ema’s homecooked food and Taylour’s never-ending giggles, his family said goodbye. Once everyone left and everything slowed, it didn’t take long for the excitement of the day to catch up to Taylour. He spent twenty minutes lying on the stone surrounding the pool with a few of his Paw Patrol cars, quietly rolling them back and forth while Fred and Auston sit close by.

With one eye on Taylour, and a cold beer in each of their hands, they talked about the upcoming season, and the girl Fred had been seeing. Auston told him about the Brittney/ Bridgette fiasco, about Tia, and for the first time in a while when Fred heard his friend say they were in a good place to parent together Fred believed him. A part of him thought he heard glimmer of hope in his voice when he talked about her, but three seconds later Taylour slid his car into the pool, once Auston retrieved it the conversation shifted.

“Fweddie,” Taylour walks over to the outdoor table and picks up a book. Holding it out for him to see, he smiles, “You read to me?”

“You want me to read to you?” Auston instantly asks, uncrossing his leg to create space for him to sit with him.

“No Daddy,” Taylour shakes his head, keeping direct eye contact with the red-headed Dane before him. “I want Fweddie.”

“You want me to -“ Fred trails off when Taylour nods and starts to force his way into his lap. “Oh…okay...”

Fred is completely perplexed. Over the past three days together Fred has noticed that Taylour loves to play with anyone and everyone, but whenever he gets sleepy or upset its Auston he turns too. Breakfast must be prepared by Auston (because Fred puts peanut butter on toast wrong), every snack he wants must come from Auston, and when he scraped his knee and needed a band aid – Auston was the one he ran to with tears in his eyes.

Fred loves being the “fun uncle” that playfully tosses him in the pool, but this part is new, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it. The truth is Fred doesn’t see himself being a dad, he never has. It has nothing to do with him not finding the right person to share life with, he had a relationship with an amazing girl, he just doesn’t want kinds. He likes the freedom of being able to jet off to Arizona for a weekend at the end of summer, not having someone depending on him every second of every day.

He can tell that Auston is happy, could even argue the happiest he has ever been. Whenever around Taylour he is always smiling from ear to ear, the two of them are always scheming and producing crazy plans to splash Fred in the pool or attack him with nerf guns. Being a dad changed Auston for the better, Taylour made him a better man and Fred loved watching him fall into a roll he was perfectly suited for, but that didn’t change his own personal beliefs. In fact, its only further lamented this decision, he does not want this life.

“Pirate Pups,” Fred reads out the title. Cracking open the spine, he flips to the first page.

Standing up Auston hands Geoffery to Taylour, and he instantly pulls him tight to his chest, snuggling up closer to Fred while a sharp yawn leaks from his lips. Auston settles back into the couch adjacent them, with a large grin rising on his face. He pulls his phone out and begins snapping multiple pictures of the two of them and opens Snapchat just in time for Taylour to scold his friend.

“No Fweddie,” Taylour asserts, cutting him off as he reads the book in a monotone voice.

“What Taylour?” Fred turns his eyes from the book to Taylour

“You’re…you’re reading it wrong,” Taylour sighs, pointing to picture of Rubble on the page.

“What? It’s not wrong.” Auston can hear confusion but also a little discontentment in his friend’s voice as he tries to find the problem. It is glaringly obvious to Auston, and maybe it comes from being a dad, but it humours him Fred can’t see the problem because that is exactly what is written on the page.

“That’s not how he says it,” Taylour huffs.

Fred’s jaw gapes, and he instantly looks to Auston with wide eyes. His friend provides him little assistance, instead continues to record the entire interaction while chuckling quietly behind the camera.

“How he says it?” Fred addresses Taylour. “How does he say it?”

“With the voice, you have to do Rubble’s voice,” Taylour’s voice rises sightly as he becomes more exhausted than before. “Daddy does his voice.”

Raising his eyebrows, Auston just smirks and nods, silently telling his friend to do the voice. Taylour has watched Paw Patrol every morning while waiting for breakfast, and it has played sporadically throughout the day while he plays with his toys. Fred had zero desire or need to watch a show about cartoon dogs, and either removed himself from the room or distracted himself on his phone. He has no idea what a cartoon dog would sound like, and why the story has to have the voices.

Fred sits there for a moment, processing everything, then turns back to the book. Accepting defeat - because its very obvious Taylour makes most of the rules - he sighs, then repeats the line doing his best pirate impression. “Arr!” said Rubble. “Shiver me timbers!” Taylour’s eyes light up and he grins up at Fred. “I do it right?” he asks.

Taylour vehemently nods, “yes Fweddie, do it again!”

Taylour didn’t make it to the end of the book. Three pages later his eyes were becoming too heavy to stay open and four more they never opened again. With only a few pages left Fred was pretty convinced he was asleep - curled tight into his arms clenching Geoffery with soft and even breathing – but he didn’t want to run the risk of stopping and getting yelled at by a toddler for the second time that night, so he finished the book.

“Does this make you consider changing your mind?” Auston asks. He doesn’t care either way if any of his friend have kids, he just doesn’t know how Taylour couldn’t convince someone.

“No,” Fred laughs, placing the book beside him on the couch. “I don’t think I can handle someone telling me I’m reading wrong every day for the rest of my life.”

“Who reads to a kid and doesn’t do animated voices?” Auston laughs at the absurdity.

“You don’t need voices to read, you just read, the story –“

“It’s a children’s book Fred,” Auston smirks while raising his tone slightly. “Children need the voices.”

“Guess I can add that to the list of reasons not to have kids.” Gently brushing aside some of Taylour’s hair, Fred smiles at the small child in his arms. “Don’t get me wrong because Taylour is great,” Auston smiles faintly from across the patio, “but the more time I spend with him, the more it affirms my decision. I don’t want kids. Don’t know how you do this, and alone.”

“I’m not alone. Have my family, the team, you,” he emphasizes. Standing up he takes a few steps across the patio and crouches down. Pulling Taylour out of Fred’s arms, he shifts to let him rest on his shoulder, “and Tia. We might not be together, but I’ll forever be doing this with her.”

“I have your plate number, if you don’t tell me why you’ve been sitting here for hours, you can tell the cops.”

Her hand falls from the button starter and she sighs. Should she lie? What is an acceptable lie for sitting in front of a stranger’s house staring at them for hours on end? What if he doesn’t buy the lie? The last thing she needs is the police getting involved, and yet another article coming out about her. She can see the headlines and knows it won’t take long for the rumours to start up again. Except this time, the rumours would lean heavily on her being an escort. They will say, she was meeting a client, what else could she be doing in the upper-middle class Etobicoke neighbourhood?

Can she tell him the truth? Does he even know who she is? And even if he does, is she welcome here? Her mom did walk out on her over twenty-two years ago and never came back, there has to be a reason for it, what if she is the reason?

In the time Tia spent considering her options, his eyes have narrowed, and posture stiffened. His icy blue eyes bear down at her, his frustration only growing with every second, and the longer she takes the more she worries he will go through on his threat and phone the police.

“I…I’m…” she sighs once again. Her mouth is dry, and the collar of her shirt feels as if it is getting tight to her throat, restricting the airflow. Bringing her hand up to pull the fabric away, as if the loose material is actually causing the issue, she tries to speak again. “I’m Tia.” Her voice is hardly louder than a whisper. After hours of thinking of what to say she finally said everything she planned and not a word more. She didn’t know what to expect to happen, but it did not provide any relief, in fact everything is too much and not enough, all at once. “I’m…Kylie is…”

“I know who you are.” He interrupts her, giving a sympathetic smile. “Do you want to come in?”

“I’m okay,” she whispers awkwardly, biting on her lower lip as a lump traps in her throat. Tia doesn’t know if it makes her feel better or worse to know Kylie spoke about her.

“Please, you’ve been in a hot car all day,” his voice is full of concern. “The sun has been beating on you, come into the shade and I’ll get you a drink.”

Tia didn’t remember agreeing, stepping out of the car, or walking down the driveway and past the perfect gardens, but she found herself sitting on their front porch shakily holding a glass of water with her eyes locked on the concrete. He sat across from her with one leg crossed over the other, his water sitting on a coaster beside some assorted vegetables and dip he brought out for them. And even though she’s outside in the fresh air, she still feels trapped. Claustrophobic.

She didn’t know what to expect of the man she assumes is Kylie’s husband, her stepdad, but it wasn’t this. Her dad has hazel eyes and sandy hair, a muscular frame from the years of military training and never more than a layer of stubble lining his jaw. This man is much slender, but taller than Paul, with jet black hair and light eyes, he has a thick beard that is trimmed short outlines his jaw. Physically the two could not be further apart.

“Kylie is getting her hair done,” he explains, removing his glasses to clean them.

Tia says nothing, just nods, cheeks flushed red with anxiety.

“She’ll be back in an hour or two.”

Silence again.

“You must have a million questions.”

Tia blankly nods.

“I know I’m not Kylie, but I might be able to answer some of them.”

God, he seems so fucking nice. Too nice. Bringing out lemon water and snacks, offering for them to sit inside with the air conditioning for her to cool off. Something has to be wrong with him. There is no way he can be this nice while being with a woman who did such a horrendous thing.

“What’s your name?” she finally speaks, tapping her finger on the rim of her glass anxiously.

“Damion,” he chuckles.

“And your -?”

“Kylie’s husband, we’ve been married for four years, together for seven.”

Clicking her tongue Tia nods. Droplets of condensation ripple over her fingers, down the outside of the glass onto her thigh, cooling her skin that is slightly burnt from hours of sun beating down.

Damion stares at Tia for almost a minute, examining her features, recognizing the similarities between her and his wife. Apart from the hair and eye colour which are almost identical to Kylie, her eyes are round with a slight uptick in the corner, nose is long and narrow and jaw slightly rounded. All things he wakes up to everyday. It baffles him how he didn’t realize all the similarities sooner.

“You look so much like her,” he says, almost in disbelief.

“Great,” she mutters sarcastically, shifting the chilled glass to be closer to her lips. Tia doesn’t know why, but the thought of taking anything from a woman that disowned her, flips her stomach. What else does she take from her? Even worse, what did Taylour take from her?

“I don’t know how I didn’t see it before,” he continues to talk to himself.

“Dad?” one of the two boys pops his head out, providing Tia some form of a break. “Can I ride my bike to Kevin’s?”

“I don’t know Jamie, it’s kind of far,” he finally looks away from Tia, and it provides her with relief to no longer be under the scrutiny of his cobalt stare.

“Please? Mom lets me do it, I just have to stay on the sidewalk and walk by bike across the road.”

“That’s Jamie, my oldest from a previous marriage.” Damion explains once Jamie walks over to the garage to get his bike. “Their mom, Sarah was diagnosed with cancer before our youngest was born. She decided to stop chemo when we found out she was pregnant, and unfortunately by the time Daniel was born there was nothing that could be done for her, she passed away three months later. Kylie has been great with them; they don’t really know a time without her and –“

Tia heart stiffened harder than a block of granite. At that moment she no longer felt any pain, completely detached from her emotions, operating like a robot. Kylie couldn’t even try to be a mother to her but chose to be ‘mom” to those boys for seven years.

She made one of the most selfish decisions imaginable leaving her and Paul alone, then followed it up with one of the most selfless decisions - the decision to raise someone else’s kids as her own. It makes her wonder what she could have done for her to not come back. How there was never a point while raising someone else’s kids she thought of her own.

“I have to go.” She whispers awkwardly, interrupting him.

He almost looks disappointed when Tia slams her cup onto the patio table a little too hard, the water sloshing over onto her hand. Damion quickly stands up. “Can I get your number? Kylie could –“

“This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.” Tia cuts him off.

Tia waited until she was past him, then brought her hand over her mouth, but it was too late. With a trembling bottom lip, tears instantly erupted down her cheeks, more and more with every step she takes. She heard Damion call her name but continues to stumble her way across his perfect green grass towards the car.

She lets out a mangled sob as she starts the engine. Her heart is angrily beating out of her chest as the cloud of misplaced delusions begins to lift. If they are the type to have Sunday dinners and Thursday movie nights, Tia will never know. This is not a perfect family, and they are not her family.

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spine-buster · 4 years

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 35

A/N: Alright folks...here she is: the last chapter. To say that I love all of you so much and appreciate with my entire life every like, reblog, comment, tag comments, canon question, ask, etc. would be an understatement. You guys TRULY make my stories what they are and encourage me to write and post every single week. From the bottom of my heart, thank you thank you thank you ❤️

Like with all my stories, there will be epilogues for Aberdeen and Willy so we see into their future. I’m not sure how many I have planned -- probably three right now, thinking of four, depending on how I split things up.

After the epilogues are posted, I will be starting my new Brock Boeser mini-series “Peaceful Easy Feeling”. Stay tuned for a post date -- check my Masterlist for future reference.

Without further ado...

August 31st, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was looking into William’s eyes.

They were getting Korean walnut cakes from Hodo Kwaja. They were out in the open. Alone on Bloor Street West, in Little Korea, where no-one would recognize him. He convinced her. She couldn’t hold back anymore. She’d tried so hard and she’d succeeded for months – fuck, the better part of a year at this point – and now, she just wanted to have a date out in the open with her boyfriend instead of having to drive to some park on the lakeshore in Etobicoke to secretly hook up in his car.

“These better be good,” William said as he looked away briefly at the shop owner making a new batch of cakes behind the glass wall. Even though they were both wearing masks, Aberdeen could tell he was smirking. “When you say bean paste…”

“I promise you,” she stressed. “They’re amazing.”

“You wanna bring them to Christie Pitts after?” William asked, reaching for her hand.

Aberdeen nodded. This was the first time he’d reached for her hand in a public place. She’d always remember Hodo Kwaja as the place now. They could never close or tear this bakery down. “We can eat them under a tree or something.”

“Romantic.”

“I try to be,” she said. “Especially with my boyfriend.”

“Especially when we’re out in public.”

She crinkled her face. So did William. He pulled her into his body and wrapped an arm around her. They were silent for a few moments before William decided to speak again. “You should try calling Beth,” he whispered, his voice low. “You said Alec wouldn’t get back to you, but Beth might. She’d let you know whether or not they chose to publish the article.”

A shiver ran up Aberdeen’s spine. “Maybe I’ll email her or something,” she said. “Alec’s silence speaks volumes though. I don’t think—”

“Fuck that guy,” William interrupted. “Call Beth. Call her. Maybe she rooted for you.”

The shopkeeper handed Aberdeen the brown bag full of walnut cakes, and she paid for them. She grabbed at William’s hand and their fingers intertwined before leaving the shop. “I just think I would have known by now,” Aberdeen mused. “I mean, the new issue will hit newsstands soon. Usually they’d tell the writers.”

“Call her,” William urged. “You’ll never know if you don’t call.”

They walked down the street hand in hand. It was dusk outside, the hot and humid air of the city finally giving way to a nice breeze that cooled everything down. Aberdeen’s dress swayed back and forth as they walked towards Christie Pitts, switching subjects to the next bakery they should try. William made Aberdeen laugh recounting the story of how much Cam loved the Swedish pastries he brought the family during his surprise Christmas visit. Aberdeen’s heart swelled when William brought her hand up to his lips and kissed where the ring was – the ring he got her, which she’d been wearing ever since.

As they passed by all the different storefronts – most closed, saved for a few convenience stores or 24 hour laundromats – they both noticed a loading truck parked by the curb with two men going in and out of it, hauling new magazines and the next day’s newspapers into the shop. William made them stop. He watched them for a few seconds.

“What are you doing?” Aberdeen asked him.

“Excuse me, sir?” he ignored her, instead calling out to one of the men hauling in the newspapers. The man looked at him. “Are those next month’s magazine issues?”

“Of course they are.”

“William—”

“Do you have the new issue of Toronto Life?”

“William—”

“We’ve got everything in the truck, bud,” the other man said, setting down a huge stack of Vogue magazines all bundled together. “Either you wait or you jump in there yourself to get it.

William looked between the truck and the men. He let go of Aberdeen’s hand abruptly. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets. “William what are you doing?!” she asked as she watched him climb into the back of the loading truck.

“What do you think?!” he called back out. “It’ll be a good off-season workout finding the stack!”

“William!” she repeated for what felt like the umpteenth time.

“Oh! They’re right here! They’re covered but…” he trailed off. Aberdeen held her breath. He emerged hauling a giant wrapped stack – you couldn’t see anything besides the white paper covering it and the plastic ties tying them all together. He jumped off the back of the truck. The two men were just watching him. “You got scissors?” he asked them.

One of them handed him an exacto knife. William cut off the plastic zipties.

“William, stop,” Aberdeen pleaded. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready to know yet. She had to psych herself up for the inevitable disappointment of not seeing her name on the cover, not seeing her article anywhere in the magazine, and she wasn’t given ample time to do that. She knew William was being William – proud and spontaneous and excited on her behalf instead of riddled with anxiety and doubt and all the bad things one could be riddled by when their dream job was in their midst but definitely out of their grasp because of an asshole editor – but she needed time to process that she was going to be faced with a huge disappointment. She needed time to process that she would have to keep looking for a writing job.

William could hear the fear in her voice. He could sense her uncertainty and her anxiety about it all. He stood up from his crouching position. “Hey…” he said softly, taking a step towards her. He grabbed her hand again and held it in his. “Minskatt, don’t be nervous.”

“I need time to psyche myself up for not seeing my name on there,” she said. She felt her phone buzzing aggressively through her purse but she decided to ignore it. “It’s gonna hurt, Willy.”

He squeezed her hand tighter. “Are you listening?”

The question they’d always ask each other. “Yes.”

“Remember what you told me before and after the bubble? That no matter what happened, you’d love me no matter what?” he asked. Aberdeen nodded her head. “Whatever happens here…whether you got it or not…minskatt, I’ll love you no matter what.”

His words were so soothing. And as always, they were so simple, but so perfect. They immediately put her at ease despite all the anxiety she was feeling, that had rushed upon her within just minutes. She nodded her head slightly as she squeezed his hand back. “Can I open it?” he asked.

She nodded her head.

He crouched down again and ripped open the packaging. Aberdeen took a step forward and looked down to see the iconic red rectangle header. And then the headline.

The Bubble Diaries: Aberdeen Bloom explores the characters, stories, and all-too-real tribulations inside the NHL’s Eastern hub.

Aberdeen’s entire body jolted up, and she let out a short and quick scream as the bag of walnut cakes went flying.

Then she realized what this meant.

And she screamed at the top of her lungs.

William’s eyes lit up as he heard the shriek – the entire city heard the shriek. He watched as she started jumping up and down through more shrieks before he got up himself. Aberdeen jumped on him – just fully and completely jumped into and onto him – and he caught her expertly in his arms as she shrieked in his ear.

“They did it! THEY DID IT!” she screamed as he set her down. She bent down to pick up a copy of the magazine and shrieked again as she held it in front of her. Maybe this was a fever dream. Maybe she was delirious. Maybe the gratuitous walnut cake the bakery gave her to try before ordering was laced with some hallucinogenic and she was imagining things.

No. That was her name attached to the article. That was her name on the cover of Toronto Life magazine.

“You did it, minskatt,” William said as he reached up to her face to pull her mask down, planting a giant kiss on her lips. The energy was radiating off of her. She was a ball of sunshine, a star radiating energy bigger and better than anything in the universe. “You did it. I’m so proud of you.”

“I can’t believe it! I can’t – oh – oh my GOD Willy!” she was still shocked. “I—they—I’m published! I’M PUBLISHED!”

“Your name is on the cover of a damn magazine, minskatt!” he giggled.

“My name is on the cover of a damn magazine!” she repeated more emphatically, kissing him again. “I can’t – I – oh my God – oh my God my phone is…” she trailed off, feeling her phone buzzing violently from her purse again.

She pulled it out and saw Beth Zadakis’s name flash across the screen. She immediately picked up. “Beth!”

“Surprise,” she practically purred into the phone. “I’m assuming you saw it just posted on our website? Alec was overruled. He knew he would be. The way you wrote about the boys, Aberdeen…there’s no way we couldn’t publish it.”

“Thank you. Thank you,” she stressed, putting her hand over her heart. “From the bottom of my heart Beth, thank you.”

“You should celebrate, Aberdeen. We’ll discuss the logistics of your new position with Toronto Life later,” she said. “It’s not every day that a novice writer gets the lead cover story. Pop a bottle of champagne. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Aberdeen hung up. She looked into William’s eyes.

She did it.

***

September 4th, 2020

Aberdeen walked into the MLSE offices like she was going to work. Except she wasn’t.

Brendan had called her in for one last meeting. He didn’t say it would be their last, but both of them knew it would be their last. It was bittersweet, of course. Aberdeen had walked these halls for a year. She’d walked in on the team nearly naked on her first day. She’d tried to pick up a hockey bag and fell over. She’d taken countless calls from very important people she had no idea existed before this job. She’d gotten called out by her boss for being an idiot. She’d walked Niklas Lidstrom through the halls to impress her boss. She’d waited countless hours for jersey proofs. She’d made friends. She’d made enemies. She’d learned the game of hockey. She’d travelled countless miles up and down the steps and up and down the elevators to the ice, to the locker room, to the offices, and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.

She ran into her summertime hookup in the elevator on her first day. She’d fallen in love with him in these hallways.

It all happened here.

When she approached the doors of Brendan’s office, and looked at her desk – well, now her former desk, she felt her heart flutter. This was it. She stepped into the doorway and saw him looking out his window. She knocked.

He turned around, giving her the proudest smile she’d probably ever received from a boss. She took off her mask so he could see her smiling too. “Hi Brendan.”

“Aberdeen. Sit,” he nodded towards the chairs. This was where she cried and told him she’d been sexually harassed in the kitchen. This was where he fired Ethan. This was where he’d bared his soul to her after the Leafs lost to a Zamboni driver. She took a seat.

“I’m so incredibly proud of you,” he said after looking at her for a few moments. “What you’ve been able to accomplish in a year is outstanding, Aberdeen.”

“I would be remiss if I didn’t thank you,” she began. “You had the biggest role to play in this by setting up that meeting in the first place. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for you.”

Brendan shook his head. “I didn’t write that article, Aberdeen. You did,” he said sternly. To think that he had the faith in her to put the meeting together in the first place, knowing she could pull it off, spoke volumes. He was definitely her most powerful supporter. “I keep reading and re-reading it and I find new things to admire every time.”

She smiled humbly. “Thanks.”

Brendan paused for a moment. “You know, Aberdeen…most people would have sold us out,” he said. She nodded her head, understanding what he was getting at. He knew – he knew the demands Alec put on her. Beth must have told him, because she certainly didn’t say a word about it. “It…it speaks absolute volumes to your character that they demanded that scoop for you but you refused to give it and instead relied on your talent to get you the job anyway.”

She nodded. She could read between the lines. “Thank you.”

“You’ve got some fucking guts on you, kid.”

They both giggled. “I guess being around some gutsy hockey players did me some good this year,” she joked.

“I’ll say,” he said. “All the boys know. They love it.”

“I know. I got texts from pretty much all of them. Travis sent me a picture of his dogs reading it too.”

“That last night in the bubble, when I told you that you were the soul of this team, I meant it,” he said. “And I don’t think…I don’t…well, I don’t think it was a big secret that William had a thing for you since that first day in the elevator. And I know…well, I think we’re all aware the feeling is mutual.”

Aberdeen gulped. She felt like she already died and got rigor mortis in that tiny amount of time. So they were going to go there. Brendan was bringing it up with absolutely no shame. On her last day. Last meeting. She looked him in the eye. “Am I safe to assume that nothing happened between the two of you in the year you were here?” Brendan asked.

She could do it right now.

Be honest.

She was leaving, after all.

And she had the job already.

She looked Brendan right in the eyes.

“No sir,” she shook her head. “I…it was clear to me at the beginning too, and…and the feelings did grow on my end as well, I will admit that.”

“So the feeling is mutual, then.”

“Yes sir.”

“And I’m also correct to assume that once you leave these doors and employed by Toronto Life, you two will get together?”

She was already lying to the man she respected most in this world; there was no use in lying even more. “Y—Yes. I—I…” she hesitated. She took a deep breath. “William waited for me, Brendan. He waited for me this entire time. I don’t want to make him wait any longer. I don’t want to wait any longer, either.”

Aberdeen didn’t know what she was expecting, but she definitely wasn’t expecting Brendan to smile. “Understandable,” he said. “I could see it at the Christmas party – William’s crush on you. And I kept wondering to myself if he ever…well, you know, acted on it. Told you, at least.”

“Didn’t need to tell me. It was pretty apparent,” she smiled slightly. “He wears his heart on his sleeve. Well, at least for me.”

Brendan nodded his head. There was a moment of silence between them. “You’re welcome here whenever you want,” he said. “In this office, in the arena, in the back – whenever. You’re family now, Aberdeen. And you’ll always be family. I’ll make it a clause in the contracts all the future presidents sign that Aberdeen Bloom can come in and do whatever she wants in this building.”

She giggled slightly. “Who are you kidding? You’ll be the president of this hockey club ‘till the day you die. Tanenbaum won’t let you leave. There won’t be any others.”

“Are you going to write my biography when it’s time?”

“If you let me.”

Brendan stood up from his chair. He extended his hand across his desk. Aberdeen hadn’t touched another human being since March 13th besides her family and William. She extended hers to shake his hand. “Aberdeen Bloom, my Etobicoke girl, it’s been a pleasure,” Brendan was proud, so proud of her.

“Brendan Shanahan, it’s been an honour,” she replied.

He side-stepped around his desk, and Aberdeen knew what was coming. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to leave the offices without one. It was another thing that she’d only given to her family members and to William since March 13th – a hug. But in that moment, she wrapped her arms around Brendan, and he wrapped his arms around her, and they hugged each other tightly. Aberdeen could smell his cologne. She heard him sniffle. She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t start crying as well. “Thank you, Brendan,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome.”

She sighed. When he let go of her, he kept his hands on her shoulders as he looked down at her. “William’s coming to pick you up?” he asked. She smiled and nodded her head. “Jason’s around the building somewhere. For negotiations. You should find him. He’ll want to see you before you leave.”

Aberdeen nodded her head. “I’ll find him.”

She left his office, closing the door behind her. She felt a heavy feeling in her heart, knowing it would be the last time she’d exit Brendan’s office, no longer his executive assistant. Now, she was a writer at Toronto Life magazine. And before she could process that thought, she had to find Jason.

As she wandered through the building, popping into rooms and asking whoever she saw if they knew were Jason was, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket and knew, like a sixth-sense, that it was William. She stopped walking so she could look at the message.

i like this one

He’d attached a quick video Aberdeen had taken the other night. The video couldn’t have been more than four of five seconds long. In the first second, the video showed hands being held, one hand dragging forward the other. In the second second, the camera panned upwards. In the third second, the video showed the back of a figure, with increasingly long blonde hair, broad shoulders, and a stupidly expensive designer t-shirt on with the CN Tower in the background at sunset. In the fourth second, the head turned, and the face smiled at whoever was behind the camera. It was all a bit blurry. It was all a bit fast.

It was William looking at her.

She promised him she’d post whatever he wanted to her Instagram feed once they could be official, and out in the open, not having to hide anything anymore. He wouldn’t dare post anything on his feed, so Aberdeen would. She understood why. Even now, even though they could be out in the open with their friends and family, with William’s teammates and Aberdeen’s extended friend circle, William wanted to keep their relationship out of the spotlight. Judging by what she’d gone through with the media and what she’d seen herself in the year she worked for the team, she understood completely.

She found the video in her own camera roll, editing the colour tones slightly before uploading it to her own Instagram feed with a simple caption: ❤️

She continued to look for Jason. And in looking for Jason, her phone kept going off. It was almost annoying, but she knew it was all the guys probably commenting something on the photo. After a particular string of constant notifications when she walked into the trainer’s room hoping to find Jason – which at this time last year would have been filled with shirtless, half-naked hockey players with their thighs and bulges out rolling on foam rollers, but was now empty – she couldn’t help but take her phone out again to see what the hell they were commenting.

@austonmatthews: FUCKING FINALLY

@travisdermott: awwwww s’cute

@tysonbarrie4: look at you lovebirds!

@rasmussandin: he likes lasagna!!!!! gotta make sure u learn how to make it

@1jackcampbell: you guys!!! What a bunch of beauties <3

@morganrielly: i second what @austonmatthews said

@buzzinb0831: YOU GUYS ARE THE CUTEST

@marner_93: finallyyyyyyyyyyy

@aleidacasillasandersen: Cute cute cute!

@kasperikapanen: cn tower…shocker

She couldn’t help but smile at them all. Especially Auston’s. That twerp.

Without warning, William’s name flashed across the screen for a phone call. She immediately picked up. “Hey.”

“Hi minskatt,” his voice was sing-songy. “Did you talk to Brendan?”

“Yeah,” she said, looking down at the floor.

“Was it bittersweet?”

“Mhm,” she nodded her head. “I know this is what I’ve dreamt of for the longest time, but I can’t picture myself not coming into this office every morning during the new season. I haven’t quite wrapped my head around it yet,” she admitted.

“I get it. It’s okay,” William said. “The team’s gonna miss you. Brendan’s gonna get a new assistant and he or she is gonna have some huge shoes to fill.”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but smile. “He asked about us, you know.”

“He did?”

“He said it wasn’t a big secret that you had a thing for me since the first day in the elevator. He also said everyone is pretty much aware the feeling is mutual.”

“And?”

“And…he asked if anything had happened between the two of us.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Well I didn’t exactly tell Brendan fucking Shanahan that we randomly hooked up the night of my graduation. And I didn’t exactly tell him we’ve been secretly hooking up and in a relationship since January,” Aberdeen said. “But I told him the feeling was mutual, and that we’d both waited long enough, and the second I walked out of those doors I wasn’t going to make you wait anymore.”

“Okay…” she could hear William exhale. “Okay.”

“I lied to him, Will. I know. I lied to him about the last nine months. Hell, I’ve lied to everyone these past nine months about us being together. About our feelings, about your late-night visits to my hotel rooms and us hooking up. About loving you. About being with you. I’ve lied about everything. Everything.”

“We’ve lied to everyone about everything in the last nine months,” William corrected her sternly. “You’re not alone in this. You know that. We lied to everyone. We kept it a secret. But none of that matters, Aberdeen. What matters is that we get to be open about it now. That’s all that matters. That’s it.”

Aberdeen nodded her head. She knew he was right. She collected herself so she didn’t get emotional on the phone. God knows if she shed at least one tear and then found Jason, Jason would automatically be able to tell. “I just have to find Jason to say goodbye and then I’m out of here.”

“I’m actually already waiting outside, so take your time,” William said. “I’ll be here whenever. Take as long as you want.”

“I love you, William.”

“I love you too, minskatt. I’ll see you soon.”

Aberdeen locked her phone. She took another deep breath, replaying the conversation in her mind, before resolving to find Jason. She turned around to keep searching.

Only to find Jason standing a few feet behind her.

When she saw the look on his face, she knew immediately that he’d heard every single word of the conversation she’d just had. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. No – her heart dropped into the depths of hell. Her breath caught in her throat. She felt like her entire body was on fire. “Jason,” was all she could say.

“January,” was all he said.

Her hands began to shake. She reached out to him. “Jason—”

“Don’t,” his tone was harsh, and his entire arm flinched away from her. She tried to say something but nothing would come out. “Since January, Aberdeen? January?!”

“Jason, please—”

“I don’t – I – late night visits to hotel rooms?!” his voice kept rising as he verbally began to piece all the information together. “How – how could you?!”

“Jason, I can explain—”

“No! No you can’t explain! There’s nothing to explain in a situation like this! You lied to us! You lied to all of us!” he kept saying, his voice strained. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. He couldn’t believe the words that had come out of Aberdeen’s mouth. “Aberdeen, I went to bat for you time and time again. I looked out for you this entire fucking year and this is what you were doing behind my back? Hooking up with William Nylander?!”

“Ja—”

“You promised me, Aberdeen. You promised me that day that guy stalked you that there was nothing happening between the two of you. I took your word for it, Aberdeen. And William – William promised me nothing was going on that night you got stitches. And now you’re telling me this has been going on since January?!”

“Since the Night With the Blue and White,” she said, voice strained, tears welling in her eyes now. There was no use in lying to him. He was Jason Spezza. “The first time it happened was that night when I got home. When we got home. I can’t – I couldn’t…”

Jason was quiet, but she could hear how heavy he was breathing through his nose. She knew he was trying to calm himself down so he didn’t blow up at her. At this moment in time, though, she wasn’t so sure he’d be able to do it. “I can’t believe you’d do this to the team. To me. To Brendan,” he stressed. His voice was calm. Eerily calm. “I never want to speak to you again.”

Aberdeen’s cheeks flushed red with emotion almost instantly. No. It couldn’t end like this. It couldn’t. She tried reaching out to touch him again, but he flinched once more and took a few steps back to distance himself from him. “Jason—no—please—let me explain—”

His next words cut Aberdeen like a knife. He looked her dead in the eye. “I’ve never been more disappointed in you.”

A sob escaped her and she covered her mouth, but it was no use. Tears were streaming down her cheeks like Niagara Falls and her heart was sliced into a million pieces as she watched Jason turn around and walk out of the room, not bothering to look back at her.

What hurt most of all was that so much love goes into disappointment. Someone can still love you but be disappointed in you and that was infinitely, infinitely worse than someone hating you. It hurt so much more. Jason wasn’t wrong when he said he’d looked out for her this entire year. He wasn’t wrong when he said he’d went to bat for her this year. He’d done all those things out of love, because he cared for her, because he wanted to see her succeed in an environment that was, historically, not kind at all to young women. He’d done it to look out for her, to make sure she didn’t get hurt, to make sure she got where she wanted to go.

Jason Spezza was disappointed in her. And that hurt more than anything else.

Aberdeen sat down in the middle of the room and began sobbing.

***

William was scrolling through his phone when he noticed Aberdeen walking speedily towards his car. He unlocked the doors and slipped into the passenger seat, taking off her mask and throwing it onto the dashboard.

He immediately saw that her entire face was red, and her eyes were practically bloodshot. “What happened, minskatt?” he asked.

She looked like she was going to cry again. She turned her head towards him. “Jason overheard our conversation.”

William stopped breathing momentarily. “So he knows.”

She nodded her head, face scrunching up to stop tears from falling. “He said he never wants to speak to me again. And he said he’s never…he’s never been more disappointed in me.”

“Hey—hey, c’mere,” he said, grabbing her chin and leaning over the centre console to give her a loving kiss, feeling the tears stream down her face. He continued to kiss her for as long as he could. “It’s gonna be okay, minskatt. It’s going to be okay.”

“No it’s not,” she shook her head vehemently. “It’s not going to be okay. It’s not.”

“Yes it will. He’ll get over it.”

“No he won’t,” she was steadfast. “He hates me William, and he never wants to speak to me again and he’s disappointed in me. He’s not gonna just get over me lying to him for the past nine months.”

“We lied to him,” William clarified for her again, like he did on the phone. “We lied. He’ll be madder at me than you. He’ll get over it. It’s going to be okay.”

Aberdeen shook her head. She wanted to believe him – she really did, but her mind was all over the place right now. “But what if it’s not?” she asked.

“Are you listening?” he asked.

She visibly calmed down at the question. “Yes.”

“It’s going to be okay because I love you, minskatt. Because we love each other.”

She nodded her head. He loved her. She knew he loved her, and that he would for the rest of their lives. And she’d love him too. That brought her more solace than anything. “I love you too, William.”

He gave her one last, long, lingering kiss before he put the car in drive. He fiddled with his phone to start the music, the opening notes of “Quitting You” by the Arkells playing through the speakers. He grabbed Aberdeen’s hand and held it in his enormous one, bringing to his lips and kissing it tenderly and holding it against his heart momentarily before settling it on his lap. She looked out the window at 50 Bay Street, saying goodbye.

She looked at William. The man she loved.

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 3 years

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“Conflicting Tales Bewilder Court,” Toronto Star. July 24, 1931. Page 18. ---- Magistrate Davidson Reserves Judgement in Stabbing Case ---- Mimico, July 24. - Magistrate Davidson reserved judgement in the cases of Charles Rotunda and Dominic Armnatto, who both appeared in the Etobicoke police court on charges against the other. The charge against Armnatto was that he assaulted Rotunda by ‘beating and stabbing him with a knife, causing actual bodily harm.’

According to Dr. Warren Snyder, who examined the men. Armnatto had the worst of the fight, which occurred on July 12. He had two severe abrasions on his head, both eyes badly blackened a laceration on his right hand and a badly bruised face. Rotunda received a slight cut in the neck.

Evidence showed that Armnatto went to Rotunda’s home to collect $10 which he had loaned him. He admitted drinking six or seven glasses of cider before going, Rotunda waved the man off his property, and according to J. W. Jones, a witness, asked him to please go away.

Armnatto returned and Rotunda swore he struck him in the neck with a knife. He explained that he defended himself, got his assailant down and took the knife away.

In his turn, Armnatto swore that Rotunda attacked him first and that the knife used was Rotunda’s. He exhibited a cut in his short and cuts in his trousers, which he claimed Rotunda had done in the fight.

Neither man would admit ownership of the three-inch clasp knife used as an exhibit, which Rotunda claimed to have taken from his antagonist and given to the police.

#mimico #etobicoke #assault #assault causing bodily harm #stabbing attack #stabbing affray #knife fight #stabbed with a knife #drunken fight #drunk and disorderly #italian immigration to canada #italian canadians #great depression in canada #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada

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nanakcarwash · 2 years

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What is Auto Detailing and what does it involve?

Washing your car is not the same as auto-detailing it. Nanak car wash will clean your vehicle both inside and out when you get it auto-detailed; your vehicle will appear to be brand new. Polishing, waxing, cleaning the interior and exterior of the car, and removing debris and stains are some of the tasks included in our auto detailing in Etobicoke. It would help if you had an excellent eye for the smallest details to work as a car detailer.

Exterior auto detailing

Cleaning the dirt and dust off your rims and wheels is the first step in detailing your car's exterior. After that, the detailers will polish the edges and treat the tire sidewalls. If any wax residue remains around the vehicle's chrome plates or decals, it is carefully washed away. We can even use a rain repellant on the windows. We will also use degreasers or steam to clean the engine. After cleaning, the undersides of the rails and hood are polished. We'll wash, clean, and wax your car's exterior, as well as clean the lights.

Interior auto detailing

We will carefully vacuum your car's inside, including the upholstery and mats, when detailing it. This part of the job may need the use of a variety of products. It depends on the state of your car's interior. Rug shampoo, spot cleaners, and upholstery foam cleaning are all options. If the car's seats are made of cloth, can use a wet vacuum to help remove most stains. Except for existing physical damage, it also makes your seats and carpet look brand new. Inside your car, the vinyl elements such as the console, dashboard, and door panel trim clean.

After that, we had given a conditioner to keep the vinyl pliable. Clean the gas and brake pedals as well. We haven't trained to keep your foot from slipping off the gas pedal. The speedometer, gas gauge, and other gauges had their coverings cleaned as well. Frequently used Q-tips clean the slats of heating and air conditioning vents. Q-tips are also helpful in cleaning the dirt-collecting seams in the console. All of the interior glass is appropriately cleaned and washed to ensure no film or streaks could compromise the driver's eyesight due to low angles of sunlight or nighttime headlights.

Click here for more information: https://nanakcarwash.com/auto-detailing-in-etobicoke.html

#Auto Detailing in Etobicoke #Car Detailing #Nanak Car Wash

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grgdoorfix · 3 years

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Thinking outside the glass box

New Post has been published on https://grgdoorfix.com/thinking-outside-the-glass-box/

Thinking outside the glass box

The new Toronto Paramedic Services Multifunction Station. Its design is part of a trend that’s seeing architects look for ways to turn roofs, walls and windows into power-producing elements of buildings while maximizing energy conservation.

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The dramatically slanted roof and sides of the new Toronto Paramedic Services Multifunction Station will be an eye-catcher. Less evident, but equally important, are that its walls and garage doors are designed to conserve heat and the photovoltaic arrays on the roof can produce much of the building’s electrical needs.

Meanwhile, the new Ottawa Public Library and Archives of Canada Joint Facility is weaving photovoltaic elements into its walls and windows to produce significant amounts of electricity. And in Winnipeg, the Red River College Innovation Centre is pushing the envelope with walls clad in colourful photovoltaic glass.

Each of them could have been built with conventional glass curtain walls and standard insulation, but they’re part of a trend that’s seeing architects look for ways to turn roofs, walls and windows into power-producing elements of buildings while maximizing energy conservation.

Story continues below advertisement

“Energy-generating architectural materials have been around for a quite a while but not used in significant ways in buildings until now. They’re becoming more efficient and cost-effective for use in large-scale architecture and government mandates are spurring…

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freaksneedfriendstoo · 6 years

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My name is Julie and I have a very real and moving Testimony I would like to share with you. Please share this with anyone struggling with mental health, abuse or addiction so that they can know Gods power.

I was born in Toronto in 1983 and taken by CAS at 3 months old. The details surrounding this are sketchy for me but basically my mother got arrested and she got my aunt to watch me who then gave me to a lady she met on the street. I had a very bad cough and the lady took me to the hospital who called CAS because apparently I had bruises. I spent 10 months in foster care and was then adopted. I had psycological problems from the start and would destroy and rip everything apart. I think its because I never had normal bonding or was traumatised. I spent my youth very bullied and I would usually just walk around by myself all recess watching the other kids play. I liked to be alone and at 11 I was taken to a psychiatrist because I became so reclusive and stopped wanting to even eat. I would just listen to my micheal jackson tapes over and over on my walkman with my face buried in the couch.

I started cutting myself at 14 and smoking weed and cigarettes. I got sent to a psychiatric ward the summer after grade 9 and would never live with my adoptive parents again. I got passed through such facilities as Youthdale, Whitby psyc, Thistletown in Etobicoke and Crossroads run by Kinark. In the hospitals I was frequently left alone in restraints tying me to a bed and given so many drugs my personality was gone. My adoptive parents didnt even know me anymore when they visited.

At Whitby I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder by a team of psychiatrists. I frequently would run away from the group home crossroads and once in a fit of rage I climbed the fire escape and threw myself off the roof. An ambulance arrived and put me on a board. I had hairline fractured my lower back.

Shortly after this I ran away from there for good and met up with a 25 year old man named Andrew. I was 16 at the time He was homeless and I stuck to him like glue as he showed me how to live on the street. He had a terrible temper and would beat me especially when he was drunk. I spent 11 months with him living on the street in abandonded houses, under a bridge and for a short time in an apartment in Bradford they we got through a worker. The police would get called to the apartment because people would hear me screaming from him hitting me. I was abusing cocaine and would use anything I could to get high.

After we left there we stayed on the street again and one night around 2am Andrew was drunk and he was literally beating me to death. He was sitting on me and just going at it. He put his hand in my mouth and tried to break my jaw. When I looked in his eyes it was like he didnt even know me anymore. The thought came into my mind to yell at him and desperate I started yelling at him to get away from me. To my astonishment he actually walked away from me yelling at me. I got up and ran pausing for moment to gaze a my reflection in a store window. My face was all swollen and bruised. I ran behind a mall and found a man making deliveries who called mall security who called the police.

I got placed in a group home in Newmarket called Heritage Lodge. I met a 26 year old drug dealer named Doug and started dating him. He got me into using needles shooting cocaine and oxycitin. I would abuse any pills to get high such as Gravol. He would also hit me and I got kicked in the head by him 2 times in a row with shoes on so hard I blacked out for a moment. He got arrested for this and then I went back to him about 6 months later. I had no feelings of self worth or real love.

When I was 18, I took an overdose of pills and went to the hospital and told them I was suicidal. They put me in a small room to wait and see someone. The room had a framed picture on the wall and sadly I broke the glass in the frame and I slit my wrists so badly up and down my forearm that my arm is disfigured by scars for the rest of my life. 4 thick, ropey scars.

At 19 I got pregnant by Doug and went with the baby to a womans shelter when the baby was around 3 months old. We went to Rosalie Hall in Scarborough and Sandgate womans shelter. I recieved emergency housing and was given a one bedroom apartment in a co-op. So now it was just me and my baby. My adoptive parents lent me a small black and white tv and a sleeping bag and I would camp out on the floor snuggling my baby until I got furniture.

After about a year I felt this urgency to find out the truth in life. I went to a used book store called Random Books to see what I could find. I found a book called There’s A New World Coming. The title sparked my interest so I bought it. I took it home and read it right through. It was all about Bible prophecy. At the end of the book was a prayer to recieve Jesus as your Saviour. I recognized that I was a terrible sinner and jumped at the chance to have a Saviour. I prayed for Jesus to be my Saviour and to forgive my sins. I confessed my faith in Him.

Then I tell you the truth I felt God’s indescribable, powerful love washing over me like gentle ocean waves. I spent like a week crying and praying. Confessing my sins. You see having borderline disorder the only thing I had ever felt was desperation. Desperation to be loved but I had no idea what love was nor could I express it. I had felt rage, I had felt pain like there was a giant hole in my chest.

In that moment God filled that hole with His love and peace. He gave me His Holy Spirit and great faith. He forgave me for all my wretched sins because of His great mercy. I have never been the same.

I began distributing Bible tracts and going to church. I got baptised on June 12 2005 and my baptism certificate sits by my bed. Instead of self destruction and self hatred I can by the power of the Holy Spirit feel love and compassion for others. I will help anyone and am moved to express love for others in whatever way I can.

God has filled me with His great compassion for the homeless as I know what it is like to sit panhandling. This new creation He has made in me prepares packages with Bible tracts and gift cards and treats and now I go seek out the broken and the lost on the streets of Toronto every two months.

This Christmas the Holy Spirit moved me to prepare gifts for the homeless and I set out Christmas morning with a hockey bag filled with wrapped packages of pot of gold chocolates, gift cards, handmade cards filled with Scriptures about hope and belonging. ‘No Greater Love Then Jesus’ is what the covers read. God uses me to bring His love to them. God’s love and compassion are the most beautiful things I have ever felt and He fills my heart in an indescribable way. This is just one example of what God has done in my life.

So when people dont believe in God I can tell them without a doubt that God is real. He has done a miracle in me. Everything in the Bible is true. God is good. He is pure in everyway. He is light and He sent His Son Jesus to destroy the works of the devil. The devil devours kids like I was but the Lord rescues them. He saves them.

My name is Julie and I am a living testimony that God is mighty to save and with His Spirit, He can transform even the most broken, hopeless person. Its all about having faith in Jesus and surrendering to His Spirit. Chris Tomlin music has helped me greatly with this as it is so soothing to my soul.

The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentless, faithfulness and self control. I really rely on God’s Holy Spirit as apart from Him I cant feel love, peace, compassion or joy. It’s not things I can or have produced on my own. The works of the flesh (me without Jesus) were all destructive and led to death. Here is my poem called broken that I wrote 12 years ago during the first week I was saved. It poured from me like water.

BROKEN I look at my wrists, I see the scars I search my soul, I know my shame I’ve been led by the blind and beaten down by sin I should have died, but You wouldn’t let them win I see Your hands, the holes in Your palms I know your glory has overcome all pain I turn to You Lord, in my broken suffering A love unimaginable, how can this be In all my wretchedness, You reached out to save me A soul so pure, my hero, Your truth The word of God that whispered to my heart and set me free As I tripped over trials, in this deathly darkness I looked for the way Your light opened my soul and my eyes lit up with hope You showed me a path that I can now take Thanks to Your selfless sacrifice This girl will never fade away I toddle like a baby, into Your strong hands I am Yours, You have made me new again Paralized with tears, my repentance shakes my being Then You kiss my tears away and I am no longer unclean Thank you Father, my cross I’ll bear 'Till the day I go home, when You shout from the sky All Your children will run to You with a happy cry And there I’ll be, tucked safely under Your wing As we fly away, this life will have seemed like a dream I will never forget how You gave Yourself for me I love you Lord Jesus

#testimony #Jesus

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nhlhoser · 7 years

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On The Rocks- 7

PART 6 MASTER LIST

I thought I had dreamt everything when I woke up the next morning an empty bed but his side still warm. Rolling over my eyes open ever so slightly I spot a note on the side table with the sunglasses on top. Grabbing the glasses and sitting up to read the note.

Amelia,

I Had to head home before practice.

Get better soon.

Text Will and I when you get back to where ever you live,

so we know you're alive.

- Your favorite leaf (Auston)

Setting down the paper, I check the time the digital clock displaying that it's 6:30 am, Laying back I am unable to fall back asleep deciding to it's time to get up I heave my sore body up and out of bed into the bathroom to start the day.

Leaving the hotel into the cold streets I hail a cab and head back to reality also know as my apartment that I share with two roommates. I don't even like my roommates they steal my stuff all the time and general annoyances they are opposite of me. The only reason I stay is that of the fact it's my apartment I own it. Feeling a bit grumpy now thinking about the peace I and minus a couple things this weekend I hope they did something so I can kick them out. Wow, I am mean today. Looking back at the hotel I am finding it hard to believe my weekend.

Getting back home I regret wishing for a reason to kick them out because my house is trashed. They had a huge party well I was gone and I am pissed. I am so glad I went out of the way to have legal documents of our rents agreement. Slamming the door shut behind me I'm taking photos of the mess that once was my home. After documenting the damage I'm glad I locked my room before I left on Friday. Heading to Claire's room I open the door startling the drunken mess awake. Her eyes wide at my visible fury.

"72 hours to pack your shit and leave my house or I press charges," I said firmly not giving her time to say anything and I am on to Anna's room across the hall. Banging her door open she's just like Claire started and giving her the same warning.

"Up now! You are cleaning the mess yourself" I said as the two redheads gingerly getting out of their rooms. Scared of what I'll do next.

"Lia is reasonable here" Anna tried to act coy playing down the level damage their party. My temper was gone I snap my head girl and stare at her. My eyes must hold my rage because she backs up but I am past being reasonable.

"This is me being reasonable. I could have said 24 hours but My house thanks to you guys is ruined. You can either clean it now and have your 72 hours or leave now and pay for the cleaning and damages. Just so you know you pay for the damages regardless of your decision." My voice cold and mean. They protest claiming it's illegal for what I am doing. I am about to lose my mind!

"If I recall we have a signed legal document saying I can" Knowing them off their high horse.

All this anger makes my head throb in agony instantly springing tears. Not want to deal with them. "Read your rental agreement and get back to me. I have documented every single piece of damage in this apartment. Now get cleaning" I leave no room for disagreement heading up the stair to my room.

My room untouched and the exact way left it. Dropping my bag, I carefully flop on my bed getting my phone out for only to see that it is dead. Groaning I retrieve my charger from my bag, the bending down hurting my head. After plugging in my phone I lay back and start meditating in hopes of calming down it half works for a minute. As long as i don't go down stairs I should be fine. Rolling over in my bed to check the time.

8:30 am.

It's still early I spent about half hour dealing with my roommates. My weekend was unreal thinking about it makes me giggle and happy again despite my headache and my roommates. Remembering the drinks at Gracie where steps fell asleep on the toilet, spent a day getting to know her too and my little accident that got two NHLers in my bed. Thinking about bed reminds me of the note.

Lurching up right I grab my phone and it's finally on and is swamped with messes from my dad, Steph, and other people. Getting my priorities I text my dad letting know I'm back home and then I text Auston and William.

Home :) - Amelia

Pressing send and continuing to check my messages I had a couple from Steph asking about my head and not being able to say bye because Mitch had practice and that we'll be going out soon. After shooting her text say I left the hotel at 7 am and back home head sore but good.

Later in the day after making so calls to my uncle to consult about the legalities of my rents and getting everything in order and ready in case they so try anything. I book an official cleaning and repair company to come in after Anna and Claire leave. I have to get my couch replaced because it's trashed. Stressed now about possibly finding new renters because having roommates was a source of money for me.

"Maybe I could use this to find a better paying job" I mumble to myself. Deciding I will go online and search for Massage therapist careers. Currently, I'm the athletic trainer on my brother's lacrosse team which only pays 50 a game but I also work at physio office down the street. I will have to adjust my resume. I could enter in a more athletic field because for women I am pretty strong.

After using a lot of links, emails and number I have collected from school and co-workers I find a couple that looks good by one catches my eye.

Massage Therapist Wanted

Toronto-based contract

Travel Required

Email: [email protected] Resume, Certifications and references

Criminal recorded will be asked.

There wasn't a lot of information but I felt the need to at least apply. Carefully crafting a well-mannered email and attaching the required documents after double checking everything before sending it and giving a little fist pump proud of myself and now I can call it a night.

71 hours Anna and Claire are gone and my place is sub par clean. The cleaning and repair on their way within the hour meaning I need to vacate my house for the day. I haven't a little extra done to the now empty bedrooms fresh coat of paint and furnace being deep cleaned.

Getting dressed I try to think of things to do today because I can be here until 8 pm. I'll start with Starbucks and see where my feet take me from there.

"Warm dress warm," I said looking for a sweater to wear find a brown turtleneck and black jeans.

Sipping my coffee and texting my dad My phone starts to ring.

"Hey Steph,"

"Hey, girl! Wanna do me a huge favor?" Her tone pleading.

"Depends...."I trail off not sure where she's going with this.

"My lease is almost up on my place and i need to look at Apartments. Can you please come with?" She's begging. I don't have to think hard because I have nothing to do.

"Sure"

"Please, I'll buy drinks- Wait that was easy what the.." She rambles.

"Well, I'm coming to get you now before you change your mind where are you?"

After giving her my location turns out she pretty close so she's here in a truck in minutes of hanging up. Hoping into the truck it's clear that it is not hers by the scent of man and a little bit of a mess.

"I stole Mitches truck" She confirmed my mental notes.

"Okay," I clap rub my hands together and turn to face her. "What are you looking for?" I asked to want to really help her.

"Well I don't need much BUT that doesn't mean I want some hideous Bachelor. I need space and a spare room because Mitch is always bringing people with him when we come over unless you know" She blushes at the end.

"Ok, I get it" I nodded. Pulling up to the first building its so-Modern. I scrunch my nose. We park and head in to meet the building attendant. It's uppity as fuck.

Getting into the apartment my eyes widen. It's yellow. I turn to look at Steph she's eyeing the color as well. The extravagantly dressed man showing the apartment starts his sale pitch.

"So" He claps his hands and leads up further into the sun aka the apartment.

"We have the living space, open concept very open to the kitchen" He points around to the very obvious open floor plan. He continues rambling on and leading Steph around and I'm brought back by "And we that you don't paint any walls" My eyes widen shaking y head.

"Oh Steph, We have to go to that appointment that we're now late to that no here" I grab her wrist and we practically - we do run out of the apartment and back to the truck. Breathing heavy we burst out laughing.

"It was yellow. please tell me you weren't considering that" I watch her with judgmental eyes.

"Hell no, I didn't know how to get out" She shook her head at the idea.

It's around 5 pm and we've looked at about 8 places around the city that all sucked. Groaning as enter the truck again both tired of being lead around staged apartments. My stomach grumbles and my feet ache.

"I am hungry"

"Gurl -" Her answer is interrupted by a call coming through the truck speakers.

"It's Mitch, shhh he doesn't know I have his truck" She answered the call after the second ring.

"Hey babe," She answers gleefully.

"Hey, how's your day been looking at places? Who'd you force to go with you?"Mitch's voice cheerful echoes thru the truck.

"I got Amelia too and it was consensual. She's really good at getting out of the shitty apartments it's like her hidden talent. She even stuffed her sweater so she looked pregnant and faked going into labor to get out of the place!" She laughed at the memory. She continues her conversation as we drive thru Toronto trying to find some place to eat.

"Well, I have to head to the rink now. I love you I'll see you later tonight when we get back" Mitch's voice has a sadder note.

"I love you too, Goodluck !" Steph cooed before more goodbyes and they hang up as we arrive at a Denny's in Etobicoke.

"So you're telling me you don't have INSTAGRAM?!!" Steph whisper-yells at the discovery of my lack of social little did she know it's because I am not social at all. We were talking about nothing really but when the subject came up I sheepishly confessed my not having Instagrams or snap chat.

"I'm not social" I tried to shrug off her intense stare. She grabs my phone after making me unlock it. "That is change right now women" her finger flying over the screen of my phone.

"okay, now a name" She sips her ice tea and suddenly grins. Her fingers furiously typing.

"I'm going through your photos hope you don't have nudes" She teased I rolled my eyes and a couple Minutes later she's smiling proudly handing me my phone

@ Mrs.Nobody: :)

"Mrs? I am not married??" I tilt my head in confusion. Steph rolls her eyes

"Well, you're pretty married to the idea that you're nobody" Her words both serious and playful making my cheek flush. Steph's eyes are serious but kind as she holds eye contact.

It was in this moment I decided to stop shying away from friendship and embrace her friendship which springs an idea that makes me annoyed that I didn't think of this sooner.

"I wish I thought of this sooner. I have a couple rooms that I rent out. I guess what happened with my last roommates made me block it out" I face palm. Steph's eyes spark.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now!! We didn't have to go to all the apartments" She fakes anger.

"What happened with your last roommates?" She opened the large can of crazy of my ex-roommates. Her eyes wide her jaw slacked. I go on about why I was so willing to come out today and what's happening in my apartment as we speak.

"That's crazy" She shakes her head.

I nod my phone rings I don't know the number but i answer because it is a local number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Can I speak to Amelia Ashton?" A male voice asked.

"Speaking," I said slow Steph looking at me weird.

"Hi, I am Toad Bean. I was just going over your email and like to meet with you and discuss the job further with you and test your skill a little bit. How does that sound?" His voice is kind.

"That sounds great" My face breaking out into a huge grin.

"Great are you free Friday afternoon? 3ish?"

"I am"

After more discussion, we set a meeting at the Mastercard center. After I hang up I am practically dancing in my seat.

"I got an interview on Friday!! I might even get the job" I cheered.

"Let's celebrate!" Steph cheered with me. "Let go get some wine and show me your apartment" Steph smiles and we pay and leave to Lcbo.

"I'm sold. I'm moving in right now" Steph said entering my apartment. She does a Cinderella dance around my rustic loft apartment that is freshly cleaned.

"That T.V. Though!" She plops on the couch across my large T.V. I stand at the Kitchen island opening the wine and pouring it.

Handling Steph her glass she's tucked into my new couch with the leaf game on. "I watch every single game, " Steph said not looking away from the screen. "I go to as many home games as possible, Reminds me are you going to Saturday's game?" She turns to me.

"I have never been to a game" I state.

"THE FUCK I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU'RE A FAN?" Steph has a crazed look in her eye.

" I am I swear! have never been able to 1. afford it 2. they're always sold out 3. I was busy" I defended myself.

"Understandable but that's changing right now" She starts rapidly texting on her phone.

"There now we wait"

"For what?"

"For Mitch to read my texts after the game."

"why?"

"Are you slow? So we can get you to Saturday's game!" She cheers.

#auston matthews #william nylander #auston matthews imagine #Toronto Maple Leafs

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aggarwaloptical · 1 year

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#eye glasses in peel region #eye care clinic in peel region #eye glasses in etobicoke #eye care clinic in etobicoke

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kiplingoptical · 9 months

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#optician Etobicoke #eye exam Etobicoke #sunglasses Etobicoke

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spine-buster · 4 years

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 11

A/N: I know this chapter doesn’t have a lot of William/Aberdeen interaction, but we learn a lot about Aberdeen here. Plus, the next chapters definitely make up for it. Enjoy!

November 29th, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was ready to go home and watch the game.

They were facing Buffalo tonight, the first game in a back to back that would see the boys finally come home tomorrow after their long road trip. Like most nights, all she wanted to do was go home, snuggle with Minerva, and finish the bag of Doritos. Maybe she’d even be able to cook a well-balanced dinner before eating those Doritos she craved.

Except Peter had other plans for her.

“You need to wait tonight for the mock-ups,” he told her before she could even pack up her bag and put on her jacket.

“The…the mock-ups,” she nodded her head, pretending to know what he was talking about.

“The mock-ups, Aberdeen. Of the St. Pat’s jersey the team is going to wear,” Peter said. “You have to deliver it to Brendan’s house tonight when the designer is finally done with it.”

“I thought he got those last week.”

“He did, but every night since then he’s returned it with his notes,” Peter explained. “I’m supposed to do it, because Brendan is very private and doesn’t like strangers in his house, but I’m at an alumni event with Kyle tonight. So…you get the lovely task of waiting around for the mock-ups.”

“That’s fine,” Aberdeen said. She figured she wasn’t a stranger anymore to him, anyway – she’d been working for the team for about three months now. Plus, it wasn’t like she could refuse to do it. It was, in its own way, part of her job – sit around and do nothing but wait for something she needed to deliver.

“Now, it’s very important that you do exactly what I’m about to tell you,” Peter said, his tone suddenly getting very serious. “Write this down.” Aberdeen scrambled to get a pad of paper and a pen. “The mock-ups will be delivered to you in a black portfolio and you must wait around for it until then. You’re going to have to deliver Brendan’s dry cleaning with the mock-ups.”

“Okay…” she scribbled everything down so quickly she could barely read her own writing.

“Lou will take you straight to Brendan’s house, as he does every morning. Lou will have a spare key. You let yourself in. Now, Aberdeen…” Peter loomed over her sitting at her desk at this point. He was looking her straight in the eye, staring into her soul. “You do not talk to anyone. Do not look at anyone. This is of the utmost importance. You must be invisible. Do you understand?”

“Y—Yes.”

“You open the door and walk across the foyer. You hang the dry cleaning in the closet across from the staircase that leads to the basement. And you leave the mock-ups on the table with the flowers. You then leave like you weren’t even there – like the mock-ups were delivered by a stork or something.”

“O—Okay,” he had officially made her nervous. “W—What if—”

“Invisible, Aberdeen.”

She nodded her head.

***

“Here’s his key,” Lou said as they sat in the car for a few moments after he parked on the street. “Peter told you what to do, yes?”

“Mhm,” Aberdeen nodded, gulping nervously. She grabbed the key from Lou’s hand and clutched it in her hands. “Wish me luck, Lou.”

She exited the car and walked up the driveway slowly, clutching the portfolio in one hand and his dry cleaning in the other, swung over her shoulder. Shoving the key into the door, she opened it as quietly as she could, walking into his foyer. Fuck, he had a beautiful house. So this was the benefit of being the president of the Toronto Maple Leafs, huh? And a three-time Stanley Cup Champion. And one of the top 100 hockey players of all time…

Okay. The dry cleaning.

She looked at the stairs that led to the basement and noticed the closet right across from it, so she opened the door as quietly as she could and hung the three suits. She closed it and looked around for a table with flowers.

There was one right beside the closet.

There was one right at the entrance.

There was one further down the hall, with bigger flowers.

Aberdeen panicked. “Shit!” she squealed to herself. She stood in the hallway awkwardly, not knowing what to do. The distant sound of a TV on somewhere in the house could be heard. Somebody was walking upstairs. Brendan was obviously somewhere in the house, but she had to be invisible. Invisible. But which table was it?! What if she left the portfolio on the wrong one and he didn’t see it? What if – what if – it had to be the table with the big flowers on it, right? It was the biggest table. The portfolio would at least fit on it and wouldn’t fall off. The other tables were smaller. Okay, big table with big flowers it was.

So she began walking into his house. As quiet as a mouse.

But then she heard voices. A long “Daaaaad!” and Brendan’s voice mumbling something. Aberdeen froze in fear.

“Sweetpea, I was on a conference call with the NHL offices in New York City,” she heard Brendan loud and clear now as he followed his youngest daughter, Cate, right into Aberdeen’s view.

Cate whipped around and stopped right in the doorframe Aberdeen was looking into. “But dad, I rushed out of class to try and call you, and I was trying to get a hold of you for almost an hour—”

“I was busy, sweetpea. My cell phone line was all tied up and the notifications were silenced for the meeting—”

“You were the only dad who didn’t know within the hour. Everyone else’s dad called to congratulate them on being selected for the team. And I knew what all my friends were thinking – there’s Cate, waiting for her dad again.” Cate stopped, noticing Aberdeen in the hallway. Aberdeen couldn’t move as Cate saw her – she was too terrified. When Brendan noticed his daughter looking away, he looked as well, seeing Aberdeen.

If one look could murder someone, Brendan had it on his face.

Cate walked away from her dad, leaving him staring at Aberdeen, who was practically trembling from fear. Her body felt like it was full of cement as she stood in place, not knowing what to do. She couldn’t just hand in him the portfolio; she could just outright leave his house with the portfolio still in her hands. As he continued to stare at her, she felt her body getting hotter under the pressure to do something. Without thinking, she turned to her side, put the portfolio on the third or fourth step of the stairs beside her, and rushed out of the house, not looking back.

***

November 30th, 2019

The next morning, Lou informed her that Brendan had gone into the office early, so they didn’t need to drive out to Etobicoke. Aberdeen thought that weird, but didn’t put too much thought into it. When she walked into the office alone, she barely had the opportunity to put her coffee or bag down before Peter swooped in. “Nooooo no no no, you get over here,” Peter grabbed her arm.

“Okay okay okay okay—” she knew exactly what this was about.

“What in the world happened last night, Aberdeen?” he asked.

“It really wasn’t that big a deal. I promise. There were multiple tables with flowers, so I went into the hallway, you know near the stairs where the big table is—”

“You went into the hallway? Oh my God, why didn’t you just climb into bed with him and Catherine and ask for a bedtime story?!” Peter was indignant.

“Okay, I made a mistake. I know—”

“Aberdeen, you don’t understand. I was the one supposed to teach you the ins and outs of this. I can get in shit too, and if that happens, I will search every bank in the city of Toronto you’ll be telling in until I track you down.”

Aberdeen’s eyes widened at what Peter was implying. “He’s gonna fire me?!”

Peter shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. But he’s not happy.”

“Aberdeen?” her name was called from deep within Brendan’s office.

Both she and Peter looked towards the office. Aberdeen could swear her heart was beating out of her chest. She put her bag down on her desk and took off her jacket before she walked in, standing a few feet away from his desk. “Mr. Shanahan…about last night—”

“I need you to get a jersey signed by Nick,” he said, furiously scribbling something down on his notepad, not looking at her.

She exhaled quietly. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t as mad as Peter made him out to be. Maybe he took it in stride and realized she was still learning and all he wanted her to do right now was get a jersey signed by Nik Antropov. “Okay. Okay. I’ll go down to player development right now.”

“Did you fall down and smack your head on the pavement?”

She froze. He finally looked up at her through his glasses, waiting for an answer. Okay, maybe he was angry. “Not that I can recall.”

“We need a Tre Kronor jersey from 2006 signed by Nicklas Lidstrom for a veteran who will be in attendance at the game tonight against Buffalo,” he said before focusing back on whatever he was scribbling down. “We’re surprising him off-camera since Nick is his favourite defensemen.”

Aberdeen’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. “You want a signed jersey I can only find in Sweden?”

“We know everybody in hockey. It shouldn’t be a problem, should it?” he asked, peering at her though he was still scribbling. “And you can do anything, right?”

She smiled meekly at him before exiting his office. She scurried behind her desk and noticed that Peter was still there, waiting for her to get out. “He doesn’t get it,” she mumbled frantically to herself, scrambling and picking up things she didn’t even need, only to put them back on her desk. “I could call fucking Nicklas Lidstrom himself. I’m not gonna get that jersey.”

“What?” Peter furrowed his brows.

“Colonel Richard Brant will be backstage with us before the game. 6:30 is when I hope to give him the jersey so it better be here no later than six,” Brendan said as he walked out of the office, looking down at his watch for extra effect.

“Of course!” Aberdeen exaggerated her smile.

“And I’d like a hot coffee here in fifteen minutes when I get back,” he walked off.

“No problem!” she called out, starting to pant. “Okay. I have nine hours to get the impossible jersey. Starbucks is just downstairs. How am I going to do this?”

“Aberdeen, what are you talking about? What impossible jersey?”

Aberdeen ignored Peter’s question, closing up her iPad and shoving it into her purse. She sprung up from her desk chair. “Okay. I will be back in ten minutes. Wish me luck!”

“Aberdeen!” Peter called after her as she ran down the hallway. “ABERDEEN!”

***

Aberdeen’s heart had never beat so hard as it did as she was waiting for Brendan’s coffee. She tried to think of ways she could get this impossible jersey. Nicklas Lidstrom lived all the way in fucking Sweden. Sweden. A ten hour flight away – probably more. And it’s not like the Leafs had his personal number or anything. She had no way of contacting him and no way of even knowing anybody who would be remotely close to—

“We know everybody in hockey,” Brendan’s words echoed in her ear.

Her eyes went wide. She took out her phone and began furiously typing ‘Nicklas Lindstrom agent’ – three different agencies popped up with three different phone numbers – one for hockey, one for professional appearances, and another one for signings. This was her start.

“Coffee for Brendan!” the barista called out, and Aberdeen reached to grab it before the barista could even put it down. She rushed back up to the office, scurrying through the hallways and into his office to place it on his desk.

She watched as he walked in, looking at his watch. “What’s that?” he asked, grabbing some files from his desk. “I don’t want that. I’m having lunch with Larry. I’ll be back at three.”

Brendan left just as quickly as he arrived. Aberdeen stood awkwardly in his office, trying not to cry as she picked up the Starbucks cup and practically whipped it into the garbage can. She made herself calm down so her voice wouldn’t crack as she grabbed her iPad and her phone and began calling the numbers available for Nick. When the two first ones didn’t even answer the phone, she prayed to God the last number worked in her favour.

She was put on hold for over ten minutes. She wanted to scream. Just as she was about to hang up and try the other numbers again, or at least call back because maybe she got stuck in an alternate “on hold” universe where she had been floating in the abyss for the last ten minutes, the stupid elevator music that was playing stopped. “Alright, who’s Aberdeen Bloom and what do you need?” a man’s loud voice suddenly filled the line.

“Yes yes yes yes. I’ve been on hold. It’s for Brendan Shanahan – my name is Aberdeen Bloom and I’m his personal assistant. It’s very important. I need access to Nicklas Lidstrom and a Tre Kronor jersey—”

“Impossible,” the man barked.

“Well, I was wondering if you could make the impossible possible…if that’s at all possible,” she was practically begging. She knew she sounded completely desperate but at this point, she didn’t care. Her job was on the line, and she would do anything to save it.

“Impossible,” he barked again. “What do you think this is, some sort of convention?”

“Have I mentioned it’s for Brendan Shanahan? President of the Toronto Maple Leafs? Cause I think that makes a difference,” Aberdeen pressed.

“I know you’re desperate but it can’t be done,” he continued. “You’ll just have to come up with a plan B.”

“This is Brendan Shanahan we’re talking about,” Aberdeen wanted to scream into the phone. “There is no plan B – there is only plan A.”

“Listen. Nick’s in Toronto but he’s booked solid. He’s not taking any new meetings or engagements.”

Aberdeen couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wished this fucking dude could have led their abysmal conversation with that tidbit of information instead of giving her the go-around. “He’s – He’s in Toronto?!”

“Yes, he’s been staying at the Four Seasons for the past two weeks because of the alumni game he had with Mats Sundin and other engagements. But he’s leaving for Sweden tomorrow. Today is his last and possibly his busiest day. He just can’t get it done.”

The Four Seasons was up in Yorkville. She could get there in maybe ten minutes if she flagged down a taxi. “Have a good day,” she said as she hung up her phone, grabbing her bag and iPad before rushing out of the office

If Nick’s agent wasn’t going to help her, she was going to have to get to Nicklas her damn self.

***

Aberdeen tried to walk calmly into the Four Seasons – not at all looking like she was in a rush because her job was on the line and she was going to be fired at six that night – but the attempt proved futile. One of the women behind the check-in desk was looking right at her the entire time she made her way towards them.

“Hi,” Aberdeen said, slightly out of breath. “My name is Aberdeen Bloom,” she said, grabbing her credentials and flashing them at the woman.

“Can I help check you in?” the woman smiled.

“No no. I’m Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant.” The woman looked confused. “Brendan Shanahan, the president of the Toronto Maple Leafs,” she said, pushing the credentials forward so the woman could look at them herself. “I need you to call Nicklas Lidstrom’s room for me so I can speak to him.”

The woman looked between Aberdeen and her credentials and furrowed her brows. “Miss, I’m sorry, but a Mr. Nicklas Lidstrom is not staying at this hotel.”

Aberdeen’s body felt like it was on fire. She knew this woman was lying, and Aberdeen didn’t have time for it at all. There was no time for anything to go wrong right now. “Listen, I know this is all very weird, but I know he’s staying here. His agent just told me he’s been here for the last two weeks. I need you to get a hold of him for me.”

“Miss – a Mr. Lidstrom is not staying at this hotel,” the woman repeated, moving towards the computer. “I can even type his name in for you – no-one by that name is staying here.”

“Please, please, I’m begging you,” Aberdeen shook her head. This couldn’t be happening to her right now. “I know he must be under an alias or something because he’s a hockey player and this is Toronto. I get it. But I really need you to—”

“Miss, I’m sorry but it can’t be done,” the woman pushed Aberdeen’s credentials back towards her so she could take them. “Nobody by that name is staying here. And that’s that.”

“But his agent told me—”

“Miss, if you’re going to keep pressing this, I’m going to have to call my manager.”

That’s the last thing Aberdeen needed. Aberdeen grabbed her credentials before giving one last dirty look to the woman as a ‘thanks for nothing’ – it was probably immature, but Aberdeen really didn’t like her right now.

Now what was she going to do? If the hotel wouldn’t even let her have access to him, despite her showing them her credentials, how in the hell was she going to get to talk to him? Would she have to sneak into the elevator and knock on every door until she found him? Would she have to call back his agent and demand the access to him? Would she have to learn Swedish and scream his name into the streets of Toronto and hope he’d hear? Would she – Swedish – Swedish –

Swedish.

No.

She couldn’t.

She shouldn’t.

She had to.

She whipped out her phone and called a number she knew off by heart. “Real Sports Bar and Grill, how may I help you?” a perky voice answered on the other end.

“This is Aberdeen Bloom, Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant,” she began as she usually did when she called them. “I need you to get me the contact information for Michael Nylander immediately.”

“A-ber-deeeeeen Bloooom?” the girl on the other end asked. Clearly she was new. All the other hostesses already knew her name and had done the super-elongated pronunciation of her name before. “I just can’t give that information away—”

“I am Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant,” she repeated, her tone harsher this time. “Check the employee directory if you need to.”

“I don’t have access to that—”

“Then call your manager!” she screamed, her patience wearing thin. “I need his telephone number now.”

***

“Hello Mr. Nylander, this is Aberdeen Bloom calling. You, uh, you probably don’t remember me – we met very briefly after a game in Toronto when you came to say hi to William and I opened the door for you. I’m Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant. Um, anyways, listen – I have a massive favour to ask you because I’m desperate. Like, desperate. I noticed that you played on the same World Championship team as Nicklas Lidstrom, and I was wondering if you can please give me his personal phone number. Like, a number he’d use when he’s in North America. I need to contact him about something urgent, very urgent. So, um, please, if you could give me a call back, that would be amazing. Thank you, Mr. Nylander. Have um, a good night? I know it’s like almost night time there. Okay bye.”

***

Every jersey on eBay was a fake or already had a name on it. Aberdeen was getting desperate. She’d been to Real Sports Apparel – no Tre Kronor jerseys. She’d called every SportsChek, Sportling Life, Champs Sports, and just about every independent sports store in Toronto – no Tre Kronor jerseys. Even the last store that she’d visited – gone by foot, even – didn’t have anything Swedish.

She was going to cry. She’d be fired. This is where it all ended. She’d end up a bank teller for the rest of her life. She’d never be able to write. She’d never be able to do what she loved. All because she couldn’t find a stupid jersey and was denied any access to one of the best defencemen in the history of the league —

Then her phone began to ring, snapping her away from her thoughts. It was an unknown number. Against her better judgement, she answered the call. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Aberdeen Bloom?” a calm voice asked on the other end. She noticed because she was anything calm right now.

“Speaking.”

“Miss Bloom, this is Nicklas Lidstrom.”

Aberdeen stopped dead in her tracks, making various people almost crash into her on the sidewalk. One of them gave her the finger. “Mr. Lidstrom! Hello!”

“My good friend Michael Nylander called me and gave me your number and told me to get in touch with you,” he said. Her eyes went wide; she was going to have to erect a gold statue in Michael’s honour. “Apparently you’re Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant and there is an urgent matter?”

“Yes Mr. Lidstrom, yes,” she said, spinning around because she didn’t know what to do. “Sir, I understand you’re in Toronto right now.”

“I am.”

“Staying at the Four Seasons?”

“Yes…”

“We have a veteran coming to the game tonight – Colonal Richard Brant – and you are his favourite defenseman,” she explained. “I was wondering if you could sign a Tre Kronor jersey from 2006, when you won the gold medal.”

Nicklas laughed into the phone. “A Tre Kronor jersey? Miss Bloom, I will sign what you need me to sign, but I don’t have a Tre Kronor jersey with me. Not least from 2006.”

“If I find one, will you sign it?”

“Well, I don’t know where you’re going to find an almost fifteen year old mint-condition Swedish jersey in Toronto, but sure. Unless you have it shipped in from Sweden. You’ll have to come to the Four Seasons after 5:30 – that’s when my last commitment ends,” he said.

“I’ll be there at 5:30,” she said definitively. “I’ll call you back on this number.”

Aberdeen’s heart was racing as she hung up the phone. She had exhausted all her sports store leads for Swedish jerseys. What else could she do? Who else could she call? Who in Toronto would have a mint condition Tre Kronor jersey from 2006? Swedish people, obviously, but…

Her eyes went wide. She swiped through her phone to find another phone number.

“Aberdeen?” Robert Nordmark, one of the Swedish scouts for the Leafs, answered on the other end. “Why’re you calling me?

“Robert, where can I find a 2006 Tre Kronor Olympic jersey in Toronto?”

***

It was 5:55pm as Aberdeen made her way throughout the offices, her flats clacking against the floor as she made her way into Brendan Shanahan’s office. He was facing away from her, so he couldn’t see her come in and place the jersey on his desk in one fell swoop. It was the breeze from the jersey that finally made him turn around, immediately eyeing her and looking down at the jersey on his desk.

“One jersey, not signed?” he asked, staring down at the Tre Kronor jersey. “What is the colonel going to do with that? He probably already has five.”

“Oh no, here’s the signature,” she said, flipping the jersey over to reveal the perfect inscription and signature. “I had Mr. Lidstrom customize it and sign it, right here on his number,” she said, watching Brendan’s eyebrows raise higher and higher until he took off his glasses. “And one more thing.”

Brendan’s eyes whipped up to meet hers. “What’s that?”

On cue, Nicklas walked into Brendan’s office. “Hey Shanny – or do I have to call you Mr. Shanahan now?”

“Nicklas,” he smiled, though he was still looking at Aberdeen. His body was perfectly still despite one of his old friends walking into the room. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Aberdeen smiled.

He eyed her one more time. He was clearly in shock that she was able to get it done. “That’s all.”

***

Aberdeen’s body was aching with fatigue as she gathered the last of her belongings from her desk after the game. The Leafs had won in overtime, Colonel Richard Brant got his jersey and got to meet Nicklas, which made him cry, and everything was alright in the world. She’d finally be able to go home after the shit-show of the day she had. Cuddle with Minerva. Eat Doritos. Eat in general, since she hadn’t all day, too busy going on wild goose chases all over Toronto for Nicklas Lidstrom and a Tre Kronor jersey from random Swedish people living in The Beaches who just happened to have five Nicklas Lidstrom jerseys from 2006 in their house because that’s how much they loved him.

As she escaped down the stairs, taking the route that would lead her right out the door to the street, she heard another person’s shoes clacking up the concrete steps. When she looked up, she saw William rushing up the stairs.

Of course. Because the day couldn’t just end.

“Aberdeen,” he said, approaching her and grasping onto her elbow gently, sending shockwaves throughout her body. It didn’t even matter that she had her wool coat on. He pulled her over to the side on one of the landings, a worried look on his face. “Why’d you call my dad today?”

She shook her head. She should have known Michael would also call William about it. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, tell me now,” he said. “I’ve been worried fucking sick since he called me to tell me and I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“I just…I had to get a hold of Nicklas Lidstrom, and your dad helped,” she explained briefly, not really wanting to get into it. She didn’t want William knowing how much of a fucking idiot she was and the reason why she had to do this seemingly impossible task in the first place. “It’s all – it’s all fine.”

“So you’re okay?” William pressed.

“Yeah. Fucking tired though. Niklas is one busy guy,” she tried to make a joke. William didn’t laugh. She sighed. “Can I just go home?”

“Why’d you have to get hold of Nick?” he asked, not able to let it go.

She sighed, bringing her hand up to rub her forehead. “I made Brendan angry, okay? I fucked up and I like, went into his house when I wasn’t supposed to and overheard a fight he was having with his daughter and then he saw me and—”

“Holy shit, Aberdeen.”

“Yeah, I know. Believe me,” she said. “I had to live through how much he didn’t like that today, alright? You don’t have to tell me too.”

William could tell by the tone of her voice she didn’t want to talk about it. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, wanting, needing to make sure. He even went so far as to reach out to grab her hand, though she pulled away before he could really get a good grip and lace his fingers with hers.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m just tired, Will. Can you please just let me go home?”

“Can I walk you home?”

With whatever backbone she had left in her after the day she’d just had, she shook her head. “No, Will. You should be going home to sleep.”

“But Aberdeen—”

“Goodnight, Will,” she said as she sidestepped away from him. “Nice goal tonight, by the way,” she said as she looked back at him, descending down the stairs.

***

December 4th, 2019

Lou and Aberdeen had been waiting in Brendan’s driveway for almost ten minutes. He had never taken this long in the mornings ever since she began her job, and she was starting to get worried. Was he already in the office and forgot to tell them? Did he sleep in? Brendan wasn’t one to sleep in.

“This ever happen before?” Aberdeen asked Lou.

“He’s probably looking for a sock or tie pin,” he joked.

Her phone began to ring, and she saw his name flash across her screen. “Good morning Mr. Shana—”

“Can you come in here quickly please? Aaaargh!” he gruntled into the phone. He sounded like he was moving something.

“Um…I’ll be right in,” she said, taking off her seatbelt and getting out of the car. This had to be some sort of joke. Just a few days ago he murdered her with his eyes for being in his house – now he wanted her inside? She didn’t get it.

When she shut the front door behind her, he must have heard her. “Can you come downstairs, please?” he called out from the basement.

“Is this some sort of sick joke?!” she called back, standing nervously in his foyer.

“No – no, but I get why you’d ask that. I can be an asshole, I know,” he kept calling out. At least he admitted it out loud. “I just need your help finding something!”

Against her better judgement, Aberdeen took off her winter boots and made her way into Brendan’s house, going down the stairs into the basement. She saw Brendan kneeling on the floor in his suit, a bunch of boxes surrounding him. “I need your help finding some of my old yearbooks.”

“Yearbooks?”

“Yes. Can you check these boxes while I work on these?” he said, rummaging through the one in front of him.

Aberdeen did as she was told, looking around the boxes for the apparent yearbooks he was so desperate to see this morning. On her third box, she hit the jackpot. “These?” she asked, lifting one up.

“Yes!” Brendan exclaimed excitedly. She handed it to him. “God, this is from St. Leo.”

Aberdeen perked up at that name. “You went to St. Leo?”

“Yeah, why?”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but smile. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Of all the schools in Etobicoke – of all the Catholic schools in Etobicoke. “My mom teaches grade one at St. Leo,” she revealed.

“What!” he exclaimed excitedly, his eyes lighting up at the information. “Oh man…I guess I never really did ask you about your family, huh?”

“You haven’t,” Aberdeen shook her head. “But that’s okay. I don’t…I like to keep them separate. I don’t like bringing my work home. Family stays family and work stays work. That’s the way I like it. No overlapping, because then things get complicated.”

“I get it,” Brendan nodded. “That’s why I got so upset when I saw you in the house…I mean, I—"

“You don’t need to – I was being an idiot,” Aberdeen shook her head, trying to wave it off.

“No no – you deserve an explanation,” he said. “This job is all encompassing. Sometimes I forget that I should be on the beck and call of my children rather than the NHL head office,” he explained. “Catherine did a lot of the parenting while I was playing, as you can imagine. But when I retired, I made a promise to myself that I’d always be there for my kids. That they would always know they were the priority instead of hockey. Sometimes I break that promise. And it breaks my heart when I do, because I don’t want my kids thinking that they’re not my first priority. So that night, when Cate told me she had made the rowing team, and that she was trying to call me to tell me the good news, and I didn’t answer the phone – she got upset. I got upset. It was a horrible thing for me to do. And then I saw you and you reminded me of work in that moment fighting with my daughter and it just – it all spiralled out of control. Work didn’t become separate from family in that moment. But I want to apologize, Aberdeen.”

“You don’t have to do that—”

“Yes, I do, Aberdeen. I was being an asshole. And I shouldn’t have punished you when all you were doing was your job. So really – I’m sorry.”

Aberdeen didn’t know what to say. It was so clear to her that Brendan loved his family and children more than anything, but she could understand how being president of the Toronto Maple Leafs could be all-encompassing. She could understand how it took a lot out of a person – and how that person would want some quality time with family when they got home. “Thank you,” she began awkwardly. “But I must say, that wasn’t the first time I’ve done something stupid since moving downtown and getting this job. And as my boss you know better than anyone – besides my mother – that it won’t be my last time.”

Brendan chuckled slightly at her words. “I promise I’ll be nicer next time,” he quipped. “So your mom wasn’t nervous or scared about you moving out and living downtown?” he asked.

Aberdeen snorted. The notion to her was completely ridiculous. “My mom grew up in Belfast and Derry during The Troubles – she’s not scared of shit.”

Brendan laughed out loud. “A Belfast lass? She’s like my mom, then.”

“Seriously?”

“Mhm,” Brendan nodded his head. “Rosaleen. Dad’s from Dunmanus in the Republic.”

“My mom’s family is originally from Aberdeen in Scotland. Hence my name. But my grandparents moved to Belfast before my mom was born because my grandpa got a job there. Then to Derry,” she explained.

“So does your mom have an accent?”

“Oooooooh yeah,” Aberdeen nodded. “She’s straight out of that show Derry Girls. She moved to Canada when she was eighteen so the accent never left her. There’s no way she could lose it. I mean, she lived in Bogside in Derry. Staunch Catholic. Still goes to church every Sunday.”

“Do you?”

Aberdeen shook her head. “My sister and I used to. She’d drag us along, but we stopped in high school after our confirmation. Still have the guilt though,” she joked.

“Ahhh, that good old Catholic guilt. And your dad?”

“Dad’s Persian.”

Brendan looked at her skeptically. Everybody always did when she told them her dad was Persian. “Bloom isn’t a very Persian name.”

Aberdeen nodded. “Yeah…it’s a long story,” she said. Brendan’s look urged her to go on. “My dad fled Tehran during the revolution. His parents were university professors and after the political revolution came the cultural revolution. They taught English literature and promoted a lot of Western texts so they knew they would be targeted. They made him leave because they were scared the new government would target him, too. He was only fourteen.”

“Fourteen?”

“Yeah.”

“H—How did he get out?”

Aberdeen shrugged. “He walked. Took buses and stuff. His parents gave him money to pay traffickers to get him across borders. They made him change his last name so he wouldn’t get caught. Forged documents and everything. He chose Bloom because of Leopold Bloom from Ulysses.”

“James Joyce.”

“Exactly,” she said. “So he left and went Aleppo first. All his documents were processed there – claimed refugee status, all that. Then Canada finally accepted him, and he came over at eighteen as well. Didn’t look back.”

Brendan was silent as he took in all the information. “What happened to your grandparents?”

Aberdeen paused. “When he first left, he would write them every week. The letters back and forth would be sent through intricate channels and to friends of friends so it could get to each other and not be traced, because they were still scared. It lasted for maybe a year, but then they stopped responding. And he knew.”

Brendan stayed silent. The information she’d just revealed to him was clearly hitting him hard. And he knew nothing about it until now. He realized there was a lot more to Aberdeen than he thought; a lot more to her than he led himself to believe. He should have known better. Everyone had a story, a family history within them that defined who they were and how they saw the world. This was Aberdeen’s story; this was her family history that defined so many things about her. “Your parents have been through a lot – the Troubles and a revolution. That’s incredible.”

“Yeah,” she nodded her head. “I think it’s part of what bonded them together. They had similar experiences in that regard. Like, my mom voluntarily left and went to university here because she was sick of all the violence at home. She felt like it would never end, and she never went back to Northern Ireland until it did. And my dad – well, he left kind of involuntarily, but he knew deep with him he had to leave Iran. And when he finally got to Canada, he loved it. He’s always told me and my siblings he never considered returning, and that he thanks his lucky stars every day that Canada accepted him.”

“Siblings?”

“Siena’s older – she’s in law school in Ottawa. Then there’s the baby Camden. He’s eleven. Right now he wants to be an engineer.”

Brendan nodded his head. “So then tell me something, Aberdeen,” he began. “Who is it you want to be like?”

Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders. “I just want to be the best version of me, really.”

“But there needs to be a person you look up to, career-wise,” Brendan pressed.

Aberdeen shrugged sheepishly. She was almost embarrassed to say. “Anna Wintour.”

“Pardon?”

“Anna Wintour,” she said more loudly this time.

“Anna Wintour?” he asked, clearly shocked by her answer. “Why Anna Wintour?”

“Well, for one, she’s incredibly stylish – that’s a given,” Aberdeen shrugged again. “But it’s important. Because regardless of how much people peddle that inner beauty is what counts, your first impression of someone isn’t of their inner beauty. I’m not saying that’s a good thing, I’m just saying that’s the way it is. So she’s stylish, and she presents herself well, but also…she got shit done. She was an editor at magazines. She’s changed the way we see fashion and how fashion influences us our everyday lives. I know not a lot of people like her and I know she has her faults, but we all do. She’s incredibly driven – even now when she’s perhaps one of the most iconic magazine editors in recent memory. She’s never complacent. She always strives for more. She seeks out new designers to support. She finds the best and promotes the best. She never stops.”

“You mean she strives, she seeks, she finds, and doesn’t yield?” he chuckled slightly, referring to her tattoo.

“Exactly.”

“And you enjoy fashion?”

Aberdeen smiled. “I enjoy it as much as an almost-broke-just-graduated-from-university person can,” she joked. “It’s not really about the fashion. I think I’m fashionable and can be fashionable given the opportunity but it’s not about that. It’s about creativity.”

Brendan smiled knowingly. “Creativity,” he repeated before pausing. “You know Aberdeen, I wasn’t sure if you were going to be able to pull off the Nicklas Lidstrom thing,” he admitted.

“I know you didn’t.”

“You know, out of all the personal assistants I’ve had, you’re the only one that was able to pull something like that off,” he revealed. “And not only that – you got Nick to come to the arena.”

Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t know what he wanted her to say. “I was just doing my job, Mr. Shanahan. I was just doing what you told me to do.”

“Nah,” he shook his head, dismissing her words. “You were creative in your approach. You thought outside the box and you got it done. You made the virtually impossible, possible. Which, again, is more than I can say for all my other previous assistants.” He paused again. “You’ve got it in you, Aberdeen – the creativity. You’ll be able to show it one day.”

“I hope so, Mr. Shanahan.”

“Brendan,” he corrected her.

After everything that was revealed between them, she finally felt like they were on the same page. She let loose. “I hope so, Brendan.”

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