With a sigh, she sets down the carafe. “I’m a big girl, Neil. I was in a difficult mood last night. There’s nothing you need to apologize for.”
“I disagree,” I say quietly. “Christ. I didn’t even use a condom.”
Her eyes widen suddenly, like she can’t believe I went there. She checks over both shoulders before leaning closer to speak to me privately. “Like I said, I’m a big girl—who also has an IUD. Because nobody has time for cramps on game day. So you don’t have to panic that you put an accidental kid in your accidental wife.”
“Whoa!” I’ve fucked up again. “Hang on. I’m not panicked. Having kids with you doesn’t scare me half as much as it scares you.”
Her eyes widen even further. “Thanks for the update, but then why are you sitting here apologizing for last night?”
“Because I wasn’t nice. You said, ‘I can’t do this anymore.’ And my response was to do you anyway.”
“Listen.” Red circles appear on her cheeks. “I have been a very willing participant every single time, stud. That is not our issue. What works in bed doesn’t work in life, however. But I swear to Christ this is not the time or the place for this discussion.”
“I know,” I whisper, looking straight into her green eyes. “But I feel bad about how I acted. You deserve my full support and all the kindness in the world. I didn’t show that to you last night. I threw a tantrum, and I regret it.”
She blinks. “Okay. Wow. Well…” She looks flustered. “I wasn’t winning any awards for patience, either. Why don’t we just forget about it?” She moves, as though she intends to walk away.
I catch her hand before she can go. I lift her palm and kiss it. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
She looks down at where her hand is snugged against my mouth. “Same,” she whispers eventually. “But Neil…” She sighs. “I need to get off this carnival ride.”
My heart constricts.
“Please give me that lawyer’s contact information, so I can get this ball rolling.”
I force air into my lungs and take a breath. I want to argue. I want to make my point that what happened last night has nothing to do with our weird legal situation. But she doesn’t need any more arguments from me.
Defeated, I pull out my phone to find the lawyer’s information. “Got a pen?”
Charli straightens up and pulls a pen from her apron pocket.
My watch beeps. It’s the sound of my blood sugar dropping.
She makes a noise of surprise then grabs a small glass and fills it immediately with fresh-squeezed orange juice. After placing the glass in front of me, she turns to call through the kitchen window. “Sal, can you rush me an order? We need two eggs scrambled, a whole wheat waffle, and a side of ham. ASAP.”
“You got it!” he calls back.
“Ten minutes or less,” she says to me. “Will the juice hold you?”
“Yes,” I say, my face hot. The care she’s showing me right now just makes me sad. “Thank you.”
I expect her to say, ‘don’t mention it,’ or some dismissive thing. But she doesn’t say a word. She studies me with sad green eyes, puts her order pad on the counter and pushes it toward me. “I’ll call the lawyer today.”
“Okay,” I croak.
I drain my juice and pick up the pen, writing out the lawyer’s name and phone number and email address.
Several minutes later, a perfect breakfast lands on the counter in front of me. I eat every bite and linger over my coffee. I watch Charli buzz through the room, talking to everyone except me.
Twelve hours later, the buzzer sounds for the end of the second period.
We’re down by one goal, but by all rights the score should be worse. Beacon’s genius between the pipes has saved us too many times to count.
No thanks to me.
I’m fucking up all over the place. Toronto has had possession about seventy percent of the time, because every time the puck touches my stick, I make poor life choices.
“What’s the matter, man?” Castro looms over me. “How are your numbers?”
I glance at my smart watch. “Numbers are fine. They’re actually perfect. I’m a fucking mess, but it’s not my blood sugar.”
Castro lifts his chin. “What’s the deal? Is it, uh, Charli?”
I lean back on the bench, my head against the locker cubby. “She’s slipping away from me. I can feel it.”
He lets out a low whistle. “That’s what’s got you so twisted up you can’t find my passes? Dude. What happened since last night?”
“We had a fight, I guess. After we left the bar. I didn’t handle it well. Now she’s upset. I spent the whole day replaying it in my head, trying to figure out how I can get through to her.”
Castro winces. “Did you fight over the damn betting pool? That was supposed to be harmless fun.”
“It wasn’t the pool, jackass. Although I’m still a little sore you’d bet against me.”
“Hey—that wasn’t a comment on your skill level. That was a vote for you letting that fish go. She put the prick in prickly. I didn’t want to see you get burned.”
I groan. “You assumed I’d fuck it up?”
“No way. I assumed that she would. That girl doesn’t trust people, Drake. I don’t think she can.”
And just like that, he names my greatest fear.
“How serious is this thing for you, though?” he asks, sitting down beside me.
“Who knows? We had, uh, a temporary arrangement. Until our divorce.” I run my hand through sweaty hair. “The problem is that I want more than just a hookup with her. I want a chance. But I didn’t say that up front. And every time I try to renegotiate, she doesn’t want to hear it. Then there’s the whole issue that I’m currently divorcing her.”
“Women hate that.”
“Yeah.” I can’t even crack a smile at Castro’s joke. “Maybe we could have had a shot at something real. But it’s hard to ease a girl into the idea of dating you when you’re also divorcing her. She feels used, I think.”
“Women hate that, too,” Castro points out.
“Yep. I spent the whole day trying to figure out how to convince her that I’m one of the good guys.”
“We’re all the good guy in our own story,” my teammate says. “And some people just can’t function as half of a team. I know because I used to be one of them.”
“But you’re not anymore,” I point out. “You and Heidi Jo are a great team.”
“We are,” he agrees. “But I had to choose to trust her. I had to decide to take on that risk. You can’t make Charli do it. You can talk until you’re blue in the face, but if she’s not ready to jump, you can’t make her.”
“Charli has her reasons,” I say tightly.
“Oh, I don’t doubt it. And I get why you like her—she’s sharp and independent. The tough-girl thing is sexy. She’s like the complete opposite of Iris.”
“Tell me about it.”