A Not So Southern Christmas, Part 1
This is obviously a rewrite of my old fic. I have been feeling romantic and Christmasy, so I figured it was time to bring back my favorite holiday couple. I found the header from @whatishockey!!
Synopsis: When Adelaide Thibodeaux finds her husband to be diddling the wedding planner in the Church before their nuptials, she walks out and is determined to take her dream honeymoon by herself. Until she gets a seat upgrade to first class and ends up next to Hurricanes Defenceman, Joel Edmundson. Holiday shenanigans ensue.
Author's Notes: This was written in early 2019 before Eddy went to Montreal as a free agent. I will be tagging both teams.
Part 1
Looking back on my relationship, there were a lot of red flags I ignored. Or maybe I was just naïve. Either way, it was five days before Christmas and I was starting my solo honeymoon in the tiniest airport known to man in Birmingham, Alabama. My cousin, the “travel agent”, had “given” me a deal on my honeymoon as her wedding gift, but I was beginning to suspect she didn’t own a damn globe because I was flying to North Carolina then to Winnipeg, and then onto the winter wonderland of Toronto, Canada.
The plane looked like it would lose a fight with a sparrow, but 30 people were going to board the thing. As someone that had never been on a plane, I was beginning to regret my gumption of marching out of the church and taking the limousine directly to the airport.
If you asked me, impulsivity was not a common trait among my people. I was Southern by blood, Southern by raisin’, Southern by livin’ and I wasn’t prone to rush anything and I enjoyed tradition as Southerners do. I picked at a hangnail with my teeth and resisted the urge to ruin the most expensive manicure I had ever had in my life.
A tinny version of Jingle Bells played in the terminal and I was tempted to turn tail and run home. My momma went hog wild for the holidays and our house usually looked like something right out of a Thomas Kinkaid painting. White fluff and tiny villages covered every surface, anything that could be wrapped in lights and garland was adorned and Daddy made sure you could see our house from space. It didn’t matter if it was 30 degrees or 80 on Christmas day (being Alabama, both were possible) we were having a baked ham with all the fixin’s.
There seemed to be two types of women in the South: Southern Belles with white gloves, pearls, and eyelashes that could bat for anyone, or TomBoys dressed in camo and boots. Any woman that fell into the inbetween was pigeonholed into one or the other. Despite the fact that I was 5’10” and closer to 200lbs than 150lbs, my momma always tried to turn me into a belle. Gymnastics, ballet, cloggin’, modern dance, pageants, cotillion of all things, were on my resume for a proper Southern Belle.
If I had let my mother dress me I would have been in a Chanel suit, tottering close to six foot in matching pumps, and a string of pearls around my neck. Dixiecrats were nothing if not predictable in their fashion sense. My own personal style was more “post menopausal writer” in leggin’s, drapey sweaters, and sensible flats (if I had to wear shoes at all).
Considering all I had as I sped away from the church was the suitcase I had packed for the honeymoon, I was looking festive in darkwash jeans, a sensible red blazer I had found in a consignment store over a green teeshirt from the Wal-Mart, and pair of comfortable silver flats that I had found at Payless Shoes for $12. My Christmas light earrings actually lit up with the push of a small button and I looked like Santa Claus’ long lost granddaughter. You know… if she had run away from her wedding and slept in an airport.
I had my hair up in a messy bun after leaving a small mountain of bobby pins in the back of the limousine, but the bangs that were last year’s bad decision didn’t quite make it and they fell around my face in unkempt waves.
My knees were currently jammed into the seat in front of me and I was pressed against the window trying to make myself as small as possible. My fear of the window falling out and being sucked out of the plane was now secondary to making sure I did not touch the sweaty, leering, overweight man who had jammed himself in the seat next to me and might have actually drooled when he blatantly stared at my breasts.
I was saved by the captain’s voice coming over the loudspeaker, “Good morning y’all, there’s a big ol’ storm comin’ down that’s gonna be coverin’ the better part of the Eastern half of the country, but we should be getting you into Charlotte on time to catch your connecting flights before she hits.”
My family was poor, but we weren’t rich either. My daddy owned the family hardware store in a small town outside of Tuscaloosa and my Momma was a professional homemaker that would have made Paula Deen and Martha Stewart weep with envy. We had enough to go on day trips, to pay for my sister and I to do all of our extracurriculars, but I had never been on a plane in my entire life and I was about to spend the next 57 minutes with my knees jammed to my chest while being squashed by the fattest, reddest, sweatiest man on the planet and I would bet my life savings he was some sort of shoe salesman, or a judge, or a small town sheriff or something.
--------------------
When we landed in Charlotte, I sent a little prayer to the Universe for allowing me to live and for the one millionth time since climbing into that big car I thought about just going home. But that was what sensible me would have done and I was always sensible.
As we taxied to the terminal, I turned on my phone and the family group text started blowing up my phone.
Little Sister: Addie are you there yet? Did you live? Did the plane crash? I didn’t see anythin on Twitter.
Momma: Adelaide, I don’t understand dear, why are you leaving for Christmas? It was different When you and Daniel were going on your honeymoon and starting your own traditions. This is insane. Text us when you land. Adele said she didn’t see anythin’ on the Twitter App. I know this weddin’ didn’t go quite the way you were hopin’ but just come home.
Daddy: Girl, call us when you land and Canes won!
My phone was to my ear as the plane came to a stop and all 40 something passengers tried to stand at the same time with the exception of Chubby McPervert who didn’t move a muscle and fell asleep with his massive jowl to his chest.
“Hi Daddy, I landed. Yes, I’m going to catch my next flight. No, this one wasn’t bad.” It had in fact been horrible, but I wasn’t about to tell him about Chubby McPervert and his leering eyes. “I love y’all too. I’ll call y’all when I make it to Toronto, it will be really late. No it won’t cost a fortune, remember Adele and I taught you how to facetime using the WiFi. Yes, Daddy, we have to use that newfangled thingamabobber. I love you too.”
I hung up as people were starting to file off the place and Chubby McPervert still hadn’t gotten out of his seat and I needed to grab my carry on from the overhead bin. I swung my purse onto my other shoulder making sure it whipped right across his sleeping face and I put a look of abject horror on mine, “Oh mah gosh! I am SO sorry, This purse was a present from my Daddy so I can carry all my stuff and I just have not gotten used to this big ol’ thing!”
He grunted and finally got up. He apparently didn’t have a carry on and I stuck out my tongue at his retreating back to the amusement of the little boy seated behind me. Stepping into the narrow aisle and grabbing my little roller bag that contained all my toiletries and a few changes of clothes in case the airline lost my suitcase, I rolled after everyone else exiting the plane and entered the indoor city that was (to me) a large international airport.
The hustle and bustle of an airport right before Christmas was overwhelming and I looked for a place where I could get out of the way and get my bearings.
I found a pillar in front of a bank of screens framed in cheap tinsel garland that had a list of all the flights coming and going. To my dismay, it looked like a lot were already being cancelled due to the weather. When I finally found my flight, I was dismayed to see it was already delayed. I looked around the terminal for signs of where the gate might be and figured waiting there was as good as any place.
It took what felt like an hour to traverse the bustling airport and I was pretty sure I had walked to the next county.
The poor gal behind the counter looked harried as people checked into the flight and a lot of grumpy faces seemed to be aware of the delay. I waited patiently in line for my turn as she tried to find accommodations for people who needed to make connecting flights. Much to my chagrin, Chubby McPervert huffed up behind me and spent the next 20 minutes grumbling under his breath. When I finally got to the counter I set my giant purse on it, “Y’all look like y’all’ve had a DAY.”
She took a breath before answering, “I’m new, this is my first holiday.”
“Well take a breath, a drink of water, I gotta find my ticket on my phone anyway.”
She shot me a grateful look as Chubby McPervert made impatient huffy noises behind me. She clicked around on her computer and after a good minute I held out my phone feigning stupidity, “This is for this flight right?”
She smiled, “Yes it is.”
Chubby McPervert made another impatient huff. I wanted to tell him he sounded like the draft horses in the log pull at the county fair, but I didn’t, I just turned on the Southern Charm, “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry, am I going too slow? I bet you’re in a big ol’ hurry to board a flight that’s been delayed.”
Turning back around, I made a note of the name etched on the little brass name tag as I reached over the counter with my hand and hoped the gal would follow my lead, “Bethany dear, how IS your momma doin’? I sent her a Christmas card last year and it was returned! Did she move?”
Bethany tried to hide her smirk as she caught onto my game, “You know we had to move her in with my brother last year, I’ll text you her new address.”
I made a sympathetic face, “Aw I am so sorry to hear that.”
She shook her head, “No, it’s good, after Daddy died she just couldn’t keep the farm all by herself. She fell and broke her hip, but she is doing great now. The grandkids can barely keep up with her!
She let go of my hand and passed my phone back to me, I gave her a wink and turned around with my cheeriest smile, “Bless your big ol’ heart for waiting while I caught up with my friend. I’m sure she will be happy to help you now!”
As I grabbed my purse, Bethany mouthed, “Thank you,” and I ventured into the waiting area to take a seat and wait for my delayed plane.
I was deep into a meditation podcast when I felt a tap on my shoulder, Bethany was bent over me, “Ms. Thibodeaux? Can I have you come up to the counter please?”
“Absolutely,” I answered, pulling my earphones out of my ears as I stood.
Setting my purse on top of my rolling carry on, I followed her to the counter. When she was back behind the computer she made a few taps, “Unfortunately, the gentleman behind you in line had to find an alternate flight, so we now have a first class seat available, would you like a free upgrade?”
A free upgrade into first class? I didn’t even know there was such a thing.
Bethany seemed to sense my hesitation, “There’s more legroom? You get to drink?”
She knew exactly what I needed. Bethany was like my secret Santa, “Well in that case, how can I say no?”
She gave me an updated paper ticket, “Your flight is about an hour out, enjoy!”
It was her turn to give me a wink and I was suddenly very grateful for my parents who taught me to treat everyone with respect and patience.
Returning to my seat to wait, I watched people exit a freshly landed plane, watched the cleaning crew get on, the switching of the pilots and attendants, the waiting area emptied as they started to board the plane like a herd of grumpy cattle and eventually it taxied away from the gate.
There was a duty free store across from where I was sitting and I idly wondered how many of those little gin bottles it would take to fill my water bottle and more importantly, how much it would cost. I finally decided, “Way too damn much,” and I was saved from a potentially bad decision by the loudspeaker announcing my flight. I blinked and noticed the waiting area had filled up again with weary holiday travelers and the flight was going to be very full as cancellations meant everyone was trying to get somewhere before the storm covered most of the US.
I got up, shrugging my purse onto my shoulder and grabbing the handle of my bag. I turned to walk around the bank of seats I was sitting in to avoid the gaggle of teenagers that had settled on the floors to take turns with the one available charging outlet, but was stopped as I smacked into a solid wall that I did not remember sitting next to.
Rebounding off the slab of granite, I tried to step back but the back of my knees hit my carry-on and they buckled. I felt myself losing my balance, before two large hands wrapped around my arms to steady me.
I would be the first to admit it was tough to date men when a woman happened to be nearly six feet tall and could be generously described as “curvy.” Dan had been almost two inches shorter than I was, and was one of the very few men who didn’t seem bothered by the fact I was bigger in every sense of the word. That is what I had believed, anyway, until I found him balls deep in our wedding planner who was all of five foot and 100lbs soaking wet.
The man I ran into, however, was much taller than Dan -- much taller than I was-- and it was a weird experience looking up into a man’s eyes instead of down. Not that I was complaining.
I felt my mouth open before I told it to and I knew stupid was going to come out, “Oh mah goodness you are handsome.” My drawl became more pronounced when I was nervous and I had a feeling I just went full ‘back in the holler down by the crick’ Southern.
He blushed, murmuring what had to be a thanks and let go of my arms, gesturing for me to walk in front of him. When I turned around the aisle between the banks of metal framed seats had cleared like a combine gone through a wheatfield.
Making my way to the gate, I could feel the man’s huge presence behind me and I realized for the first time, I was unsettled because he made me feel almost small. Adelaide Thibodeaux don’t you dare trip or make a fool of yourself more than you already have.
I scanned my ticket with my new seat assignment and headed down the gangway to a thankfully, much larger airplane than the first one. First class looked like having a king sized bed to myself after flying on what was essentially a deflating balloon next to the world’s sweatiest man. The seats were in pairs on either side of the aisle and even economy, which had three seats on either side, looked roomy comparatively.
My seat was smack in the middle of first class and I was by a window. I stopped and pushed the extendable handle down on my carry-on and before I could pick it up the man I had crashed into basically palmed the thing like it weighed no more than a feather and lifted it into the overhead bin, before putting in his own bag and laying his very nice coat on top of both of them.
I felt a flush the exact color of my blazer creep up my neck and into my cheeks. “Um thanks! Polite and handsome, my momma would love you.”
Adelaide Thibodeaux, what the actual flying fuck are the words coming out of your mouth?
I took my seat near the window and looked out at the workers throwing the luggage onto the plane, hoping the very tall, very handsome man would keep going and I would never see him again. Which would be disappointing, but quite alright since I apparently couldn’t control the verbal diarrhea around him and I wanted to sink directly through the plane to the ground below.
I was not that lucky; God didn’t seem to want to grant me any favors to avoid paralyzing embarrassment this day and I glanced up at the man who was about to sit next to me. From a different angle and finally focusing on his face, I immediately recognized him and I turned my face toward the window again to have a minor meltdown. I was about to spend the entire flight next to a Carolina Hurricane and I did not want to find out what incredibly stupid things could come out of my mouth in six whole hours.
When I looked back over and swallowed he gave me a funny look, suddenly the plane seemed even smaller than the one I arrived on. There may have been at least four inches between our arms, but it felt like nothing and I swear I could feel the heat of his body coming through his stylish sweater. The awkward silence stretched tight like a bungee cord and I knew when it finally snapped I was going to feel the lash.
He held out his hand, “Joel, and I’m sorry about putting my hands all over you, but I don’t make a habit of letting beautiful women fall to the floor.” His smile indicated he was anything but sorry.
In that moment, I wished his hands had been all over me. I cleared my throat and willed myself to say something normal, “Adelaide, and it’s no problem, hot hockey players catch me in airports all the time.”
I winced internally at the flood that escaped my lips, but he just chuckled, “First time flying?”
“What? No! Excuse you sir, I fly all the time.” I had an intelligent, stubborn, impulsive little sister, I could razz with the best of them.
He grinned, and looking at him was like looking directly into the sun, he was so hot, “Are we making up stories? I’m going to win the Norris this season.”
The teasing was enough to release that awkward tension and I smacked his bicep playfully, “Shut UP I am not that obvious!” I don’t know what bayou I was suddenly born in but the Southern just jumped right out and I sounded like I should be noodling catfish and not flying to another country.
“Just when I think I’ve gotten used to the southern accent, you sound a little different than people in North Carolina,” his smile was infectious and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“Well Mr. Edmundson, you are acquirin’ quite the ear. I have a ‘bama accent not a Carolinan one.”
He squinted his eyes in thought for a moment, “Alabama?”
“The Sweet Home one, yes.”
The gorgeous pea coat he had been wearing was in the overhead bin, leaving him in just a burgundy cashmere sweater and soft jeans that hugged the muscles in his thighs. “How did an Alabama girl start watching hockey?”
This was a story that had been told more than once in our house during the holidays because Alabama was definitely football country. “Back in 2017 Bama lost a game to Auburn and at one point Daddy screamed at the TV, ‘If you let that dumbass team beat you I am never watchin’ football again!’ Auburn beat us 27 to 14 and my daddy is a stubborn southern man and hasn’t watched a single pass since. We all thought it would last a week tops but here we are 2 years later and now we’re all Canes fans.”
“When you say… us?” He had an eyebrow raised.
I realized I probably sounded like one of those fans that thinks they are on the team, “Oh! Alabama football, Roll-Tide! If you’re from Alabama you’re a Bama fan or an Auburn fan. We are a ‘Bama family and I am a ‘Bama alumni.”
He grinned and shook his head, “I know you’re speaking English, but I’ll be damned if I understood a single word, but you sure look cute saying it.”
The heat flooding my cheeks could have probably cooked a holiday turkey and I was certain my face was the same color as my blazer. It almost felt like I was being hit on. Clearing my throat, I fiddled with my phone, opening and closing apps hoping my brain was going to restart soon because it needed to tell my heart to stop beating a million times a minute.
The silence stretched like some eldritch being between us until he broke it again, “So you’re obviously from around here…ish. What is taking you to Winnipeg?”
He was almost too handsome to look at directly, “I am actually going to Toronto for the holidays.”
A perplexed look crossed his face, “are you on the right plane?”
I sighed, “Yes, my ‘travel agent,’” I made air quotes, “is a cousin on my momma’s side, honestly, the whole side of the family is a lost cause.”
He replied with a knowing nod, “Gotcha, so do you have family up there? Meeting family? Friends?”
I nervously fiddled with the end of the seatbelt, “Uh no, I’m going by myself.”
He didn’t say anything and the silence began to stretch and grow like an organic being and I felt myself rushing to fill it, “It was actually supposed to be my honeymoon, until I caught my fiance having a one on one meetin’ with my wedding planner, naked, in the bridal suite of the church.
A big breath of air whooshed out of him, “Wow that kept getting worse.”
I offered a shrug, “It was not my finest moment. But the trip was non-refundable and I needed to leave, you know?”
His long strong fingers traced the edge of the armrest and he cleared his throat, “You know that Toronto is like a two hour flight from here and you’re about to fly six hours in the wrong direction.”
A humorless laugh escaped my throat, “Ha, well yes, my cousin is not really gifted in any way. The good lord didn’t see fit to give her smarts or looks, so here I am flying in the wrong direction because she dropped out of school at 14.”
He gave my hand a cursory pat and it was probably wishful thinking that he let his fingertips linger ever so slightly, “Well Adelaide, I’m very happy my mom convinced me to fly out last minute and that your cousin is terrible at geography.”
As the last few passengers filed onto the plane, the crew pulled the door shut, and the pilot came over the loudspeaker, “Sorry folks, but there is a mechanical problem with the fueling truck, it will be a few minutes longer.” There was a collective groan from everyone.
The thought of the plane going down in a snowstorm made me shiver. If the crash and subsequent explosion didn’t kill me then hypothermia would and at least I’d die next to Joel Edmundson.
He glanced at the fancy black watch on his right wrist, “I wonder if it's too late to disappoint my mother and be back to my apartment before the evening news.”
I scoffed, “You couldn’t let me fall on the ground, but you’ll let me die in a fiery plane crash by myself? AND disappoint you mother? Some gentleman you are, Mr. Edmundson.”
His grin was wide and white, “Fair enough, I can’t be disappointing my mom.”
The flight attendants were starting to make their way down the plane with the drinks cart while we waited. His fingertips were still on the back of my hands and he gave it a pat, “First drink is on me, what is your order?”
I resisted the urge to move my hand away, not because I didn’t want him touching me--I did, I wanted him to touch me all over so when I died on this death trap, I didn’t have a single regret--but the sensation was also overwheming because the Sex on a Stick that was Joel Edmundson had been caressing my hand like a lover and it was all too much.
“Lady?”
That snapped me out of my own head, “Lady?”
I don’t know what face I made but he was quick to backpedal, “No not like ‘Hey Lady!’ But L-A-I-D-I-E Like Adelaidie. Sorry, it’s a hockey thing. Nicknames.”
“Uh, my sister just calls me Addie.”
He shook his head, “Can’t have Eddy and Addie, that’s too cute.”
This was a completely surreal conversation and I wondered if the gangway to planes was like a portal to another dimension, “So Lady and Eddy is better?”
He nodded like this was a completely normal thing to talk about 5 minutes after meeting someone, “Yeah like Eddy and his lady.”
I just blinked and answered his original question in case I hallucinated this entirely ridiculous exchange. “Gin and Tonic please.”
He snickered, “Such a Lady thing to order.”
How many concussions had this man suffered?
He took our drinks and surreptitiously slipped a couple of dollars into the flight attendant's hand, then passed over my G&T, heavy on the T. I suspected I’d have to drink 20 to even feel anything close to tipsy.
As she helped the row behind us, I leaned over and Joel leaned in and now our faces were close together and it was difficult for me to focus, “Was that enough money?”
He looked confused a moment before his face softened, “Lady, drinks are free. This is first class, that was just a tip.”
I had a feeling I just showed my Alabama roots. “Oh.”
He patted my hand again and left his fingers on top of mine. Was it hot in here? It felt hot. I desperately wanted to move my hand because touching him was summer in Phoenix, completely fine in small doses and completely overwhelming after 30 seconds.
Finally, I was saved by the buzzer as my phone notified me of a text message. I regretted losing the contact of his touch immediately as I slid my hand out from under his and pulled the phone out of my purse.
Little Sister: Are you THERE YET?
No. My flight was delayed but I did get upgraded to First Class and you will NEVER GUESS WHO I AM SITTING NEXT TO.
Little Sister: TAYLOR SWIFT.
Why would Taylor Swift be flyin to Winnipeg also I’m pretty sure she owns her own plane.
Little Sister: Well then I don’t know.
Joel Edmundson
Little Sister: … Fake… Take a picture.
I AM NOT TAKING A PICTURE
Little Sister: Then you are obviously lying. It’s probably some stinky old rich guy.
I sighed as only an older sister could sigh and Joel looked over at me, “What’s up Lady?”
“My little sister is a pain in the ass,” I said as I set my phone face down on my thigh.
His smile was large and genuine. “As the little brother, I take offense.”
I offered an eye roll, “Yeah, but I bet you don’t drive your older brother crazy.”
He laughed, “I’m pretty sure he still wants to strangle me on a regular basis.”
“Well then, maybe I should introduce you to my little sister, and you can introduce me to your brother,” I said, shaking my head.
He lowered his voice, “only if she’s as gorgeous as you,”
This time I know my face matched the color of my blazer. “She got the same build as my mom. Small and petite ”
Joel sucked air through his teeth, “Sorry not interested. Petite has never been my thing.”
I almost barked and covered my mouth with my hand, “Liar. Petite is every man’s thing.”
He took a sip of his vodka soda and shook his head. “Nah”
Turning in my seat to face him I rolled my eyes, “Ok mister mysterious. What is your type?”
He stayed silent but his eyes traveled slowly down my body before he looked forward again and took another sip of his drink with a smirk.
The temperature in the cabin seemed to jump 500 degrees. I pulled the safety card out of the pocket of the seat in front of me and pretended to read it for a moment before I just started using it as a fan. “Is it hot? I feel like it’s hot.”
He just grinned to himself and took another sip of his drink.
Eventually I started babbling to fill the silence that once again stretched and started to come to life, “So Daddy said y’all won today. I couldn’t watch the game because I was flying from Birmingham to Charlotte on a plane the size of a tic tac. But, congrats.”
He just smirked. “Thanks. I was feeling good, probably why my mom was able to convince me to get on a plane last minute.”
Then something hit me out of the blue. “Shouldn’t you be flying outta Raleigh?”
His answer was punctuated by a nod, “This was the last flight to Winnipeg I could find this afternoon before the storm hit.”
“Oh that’s right we’re flying directly into a storm.” I downed the rest of my drink and resisted the urge to crush the little plastic cup in my hands.
He just arched his brow, “You’ll be fine.”
My answer was bitchier than it should have been and I grimaced as I said it, “Oh really, are you a pilot?”
“I spend hundreds of hours on a plane every year.” The look on his face was kind.
I shrunk down in my seat, thinking I was toilet scum, “Oh. I suppose that’s true.”
I glanced at my phone, my sister was still relentlessly texting and finally she called. Even though my voice was low there was no mistaking the tone when I hissed, “What Adele?”
Joel gave me another sideways glance and he seemed to have the smirk permanently etched on his face.
“No! I’m not puttin’ him on the phone. Why? Because he’s flyin’ home for Christmas, not partaking in a meet and greet with my crazy little sister. You are SO crazy. Oh my goodness gracious, put Daddy on the phone I can’t with you right now,” I growled, “Why are you like this? I swear.”
Before I knew what was happening, my phone had been snatched from my ear and his giant hands dwarfed the device. “This is Joel Edmundson and you are?”
I couldn’t hear her side of the conversation any more but I did hear her shriek and I covered my face with my hands. This poor man...and I was going to have to sit next to him for six hours and stew in my embarrassment or he’d have me moved back to economy or something.
I did my best not to listen to the conversation because I knew I was going to melt into a gooey puddle of embarrassment if I did; fortunately it was fairly easy because, true to form, my sister wasn’t letting the hockey player get a word in edgewise.
After 84 years she seemed to stop talking. “Well, Adele, It’s lovely to make your acquaintance and I’ll get your address from your sister and send you some swag. Yes, I’m sure she’ll give me your address. I can be very charming ma’am.” There was a long pause, “Well, yes she does seem immune to my charm though…”
My head whipped around at his words, but he ignored me and continued. “Well, I’ve tried to be very obvious, but she’s not picking up the cues, oh she’s dumb that way?”
His eyes met mine and he winked, he was joking. Everything was fine. He was just kidding. Of course Joel Edmundson wasn’t interested in me, imagining that could be true would be a special kind of brain trauma. I probably was dumb like my braniac sister always said.
“She IS gorgeous, I’m glad you agree, legs for days and that hair! So tell me about this loser she dumped on her wedding day… uh huh… uh huh… What a bastard. Your daddy never liked him huh? I don’t want to put the cart before the horse, but would your daddy like me? Uh huh… I can definitely work on not turning over the puck on the blueline. Is that his only complaint? Of course I’d treat her like a queen. Have you seen her?”
My mouth was hanging open so wide that my chin was somewhere around the vicinity of my boobs. Who in tarnation was this man?
“Look, Adele, I’m going to have to let you go, I think your sister might be going into shock, but add me on Instagram, okay? Great! I look forward to it, have a wonderful holiday.”
His hand had barely lifted from his ear before I heard my Daddy’s baritone, “Son?”
Joel put the phone back to his ear. “Yes, sir?”
This conversation was easier to follow because my father was a simple and forthright man, “I also think it’s crazy she’s going all the way to Toronto by herself. Uh huh…. Yessir. Well, I’d love to accompany her to Toronto, but I’m afraid I promised my mom I’d be home this Christmas. Uh huh…. Uh huh. We always love the holidays. My mom’s been baking for weeks.” He gave me a sideways glance as my father’s voice rumbled, “I can’t imagine she will like this idea.”
He covered the phone with his hand and I wondered if I had somehow been transported to a different timeline; maybe parallel universes did exist. “Your dad says I either have to go with you to Toronto or you have to come to Brandon with me.”
“He did NOT say that,” I said, furrowing my brow. I leaned forward and he held the phone out, “Daddy did Eddy take a hit to the head today?” I could barely hear him, “Because I think he might have a concussion.” Our faces were inches apart and this close I could definitely smell his soap or a hint of cologne mixing with his natural scent and it was panty dropping for sure.
He brought the phone back to his ear, “OK sir, I’ll do my best to change her mind. I have her as my captive audience for six hours. Yes sir, thank you sir. Have a great evening.”
The call was over when he handed the phone back to me and I gladly put that fucker in Airplane Mode and slid it into my purse before studying the safety placard with great interest. Eventually, the air felt extremely heavy to my left and when I glanced over Joel had turned in his seat to watch me with great interest. I gave him a dry look, “What?”
“You don’t seem interested by that phone call.”
“What phone call, that was clearly a hallucination and you are a figment of my imagination. My fear of flying is clearly manifesting into,” I gestured at his big body, “you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, your dad said if I don’t go with you to Toronto or convince you to come home with me he knows a witch and he’s gonna curse me.”
I chuckled through my nose, “My daddy wouldn’t know what a witch looked like and he sure as heck doesn’t know one. But I’m pretty sure my Auntie practices Hoodoo. But that’s just speculation. Anyway, I’m staying out of these cockamamie shenanigans.”
He looked perplexed, “You mean VooDoo?”
I rolled my eyes, “I said what I said Mr. Edmundson, Google is free.”
His eye brows hit his hairline and he made a serious face, “Okay Ms. Witchcraft Know-it-All.” Facing forward he made a sad noise, “Man, my mom is going to be so disappointed that I’m going to Toronto.”
“I think we both know that you aren’t following me to Toronto and I’m not actually invited to Christmas at your house, so don’t even try and make me feel guilty. Also, it’s weird, we met like 5 minutes ago.”
He just looked at me, deadpan, while he picked up his phone to hold it to his ear. While it rang, he spoke, “It’s been like half an hour and it IS weird, because I never let my brother meet girls I’m interested in, “Hi mom, yes, I’m on the plane. No, it’s delayed again. Yes, I will be home in time for Christmas. Listen, I’ve met this lovely woman, Adelaide, she is flying to Toronto. Yes, she knows she’s on a plane to Winnipeg. There were scheduling problems. Anyway, she’s going to Toronto, on her honeymoon, BY HERSELF. Yeah, I know that’s terrible. The asshole cheated on her, ON HER WEDDING DAY, can you believe?”
I shushed him and waved my hand indicating he should lower his voice, leaving me slightly mortified that not only did his mother know what a loser I was, but so did everyone on this plane.
“Yeah she’s sitting right here. No you can’t talk to her. No, Mom. No.” He held his phone out, “My mom wants to talk to you.”
This was the most surreal experience I had ever had and I was 100% sure this was some kind of dream. I was probably the lone survivor of the plane crashing and I was pinned by piles of twisted metal and I was hallucinating as I died from blood loss. Tentatively I took his phone and held it lightly to my ear, “Umm, hello Mrs. Edmundson. Umm no ma’am I can’t call you by your first name. Southern raisin’ and all. Well, I’ve never been out of the country before and the trip was already paid for so I figured ‘why not.’ No ma’am we celebrate Christmas. My house lights up the whole block. Yeah my Daddy does displays at our house every year. My mama bakes a ham every Christmas. Yes ma’am, it’s a big deal at our house. You and my mama would get along real well Mrs. Edmundson, she asked me the same thing before I left. Mmmhmm. Yes ma’am.” I handed the phone back to Joel and sighed, “She says I’m invited for Christmas.”
He gave me a smug look, “Yeah, mom. I don’t know if Dad should bring the SUV to pick me up, I don’t know if it will be an us. Yes, I will ask her. Yes, I know. Ok. Love you, bye.”
It was his turn to down his drink and he turned to face me again. “My mom says if you won’t come to Christmas, then I have to go to Toronto with you and while that will make her sad, your safety is important.”
Was everyone in this dream crazy except me? Or maybe I was the crazy one and this was normal behavior. “I am not crashing your family’s Christmas because your mother feels a moral obligation to some sad sack you met on an airplane and because my family is trying some weird matchmaking thing.”
He sighed. “Man, my mom is going to be so disappointed. Do you have a bunch of couples stuff planned in Toronto? Are we going to get a sensual couples massage? Couples yoga? A romantic carriage ride?”
I hit the call button above my seat. “We are not getting anything. You are going home to your mother and I am going to Toronto to enjoy my solo vacation.”
The flight attendant interrupted Joel’s retort, “Can I assist you?”
I held up my empty glass. “I have a newly developed fear of flying and this man might be insane. May I have another gin and tonic, heavy on the gin, light on the tonic.”
She was ever the professional but her mask slipped as she eyed the 6’4” defenceman and her look said “Girl, look at this tall drink of water you get to sit next to for six hours, what is wrong with you?”
She didn’t actually say any of that though instead she said, “Of course, just one moment.”
Ignoring the man next to me, I impatiently tried to push my failed bangs back, They immediately fell forward again and I stared dejectedly out the window. I almost missed Joel lifting his phone, the telltale shutter sound, and him swiping his finger across the screen and the swoop of a text being sent.
I narrowed my eyes at him, “What did you just do?”
He lifted his butt off the seat and slid the phone back into his front pocket. “Sent a picture of you to my mom.”
The audacity of this man. There was a replying bing that was followed by a second bing. “Aren’t you going to check that? It’s your mom telling you not to bring Shrek to Christmas.”
He shook his head, “Don’t need to. The first one is my mom saying you look nice and it’s about time I date a nice girl and the second one is my brother asking how serious we are and if he has a shot.”
I rolled my eyes. “You are such a fibber.”
He snorted, “A ‘fibber’?”
“Yes, you know, someone who is a liar.” My drawl drug that 'i' out to pasture and the 'r' was soft and barely pronounced.
“Oh I know what it means, Lady, I just haven’t heard that word used in this decade.”
I swatted his bicep again, “Are you always this annoying or is this just for me?”
He rubbed his arm and faked a wince. “Am I going to have to tell Rod the Bod I can’t play because I was abused by a girl on an airplane?”
I countered his question with one of his own, “You call your coach ‘Rod the Bod?’”
Joel dropped his arm to the rest again. “Not to his face, because I value living, but have you seen the man?”
He had a valid point. Rod Brind’Amour was jacked in all the right ways. “Of course I’ve seen him, I have eyes for goodness sake.”
The flight attendant returned with my happy juice in a much larger glass and waved away the few dollars I tried to give her and her eyes darted to the man next to me before she gave me a pointed glance.
I took a sip and I didn’t think there was a drop of tonic water in it. I just had a straight up highball glass full of gin. “I do believe that woman is trying to get you into the mile high club Mr. Edmundson.”
He snorted, “Baby I’m already in the club, but I’d be more than happy to provide your initiation.”
I didn’t know what to say to that so I just sipped my gin and my face was once again just as red as my blazer.
He snuck a glance at me, “You blush so easily, it’s fantastic.”