“Practice. Something’s wrong with his leg.”
I gritted my teeth. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“Yeah, man. This may be great news for us.”
Professionally, absolutely. But I still wanted to pummel him, best him on the ice.
Keelie called me back as I hung up with Maxim, but I declined it as I suddenly wasn’t in the mood to talk. Yes, I wanted to move forward with my life, but the Dukovsky news had caused all the rage and betrayal of my past to storm back to the forefront of my mind.
Instead of talking to the woman who’d lately dominated my dreams, I turned on the sports network and listened to chatter.
Chapter9
Keelie
“He didn’t call you? Text? Nothing?” my friend Marian asked, her voice holding an odd note. Her lips tugged down.
Okay, so maybe she wasn’t asgleefulas she’d just sounded after I told her Cormac hadn’t called me back to complete our plans. I steeled myself against the disappointment as I shook my head. “Not since yesterday, and then he didn’t leave a message. Or answer when I called him back. But that’s okay. We had fun.” I pasted a smile on my face, though I don’t think it convinced either of us of my blasé acceptance of Cormac’s ghosting.
Slippers jumped onto the couch and curled in next to me, whiskers twitching.Dammit. My cat had intuited my despondency. My response to Cormac’s rejection was ridiculous. I barely knew the man. I stroked Slippers’ soft fur as my heart continued to ache.
Marian’s phone pinged, and she picked it up, her eyes narrowing as her expression turned stony. “Guess this is why.” She turned her phone toward me, showing me a picture of Cormac, his hand on the spine of a sleek and gorgeous blonde as they exited the arena.
That wasexactlythe type of woman I would have chosen for him. Marian’s lips twitched. Her mood seemed off—but maybe that was me. “Weird that he posted that photo of you on the socials and then was seen with another woman just a couple of days later. I guess you’re not his type.”
My lower lip wobbled, but I slammed my mouth closed and gave one stiff nod. “Guess not. How did you find the photo?”
“I put the alert thing-y on my phone.” She curled her lip.
“Why are you happy about this?” I slouched back on my couch and stared up at the ceiling. Its white speckles caught dust and looked like moldy cottage cheese. I wanted to change it, and was pretty sure I could, but DIY stuff scared me.
She shrugged. “I’m not happy. I just couldn’t figure out why he’d want to be with you.”
I flinched, my eyes going wide. Was she always like this? “Well, clearly, he doesn’t.” I hated that ceiling. At the moment, it reminded me of my life: a gross, hot mess.Thiswas why I didn’t do relationships.Men weren’t trustworthy.
My mother’s words echoed through my mind. Dammit, I didn’t want her to be right about Cormac. I’d wanted him to bespecial.
I knew better.
“You’re looking at it again,” Marian said.
“It’s right there.” I gestured toward the ugly ceiling.
“Yes, but you won’t do anything about it, so stop hating on it.”
I lifted my hand from my cat’s warm fur. “I could—”
“You won’t.” Her tone brooked no argument. “Look, it’s okay to be a perfectionist who won’t try anything new because you’re not good at it yet.”
My hands clenched at my sides, but I took it as a win that I didn’t cross my arms as I pouted. This was the problem with having a long-time friend. She knew my weak spots…and she’d been pressing on them recently. I wasn’t sure what the problem was between us, but she’d seemed angry since I told her about my date with Cormac.
“Stop trying to rile me up so I forget about Cormac.” I dragged my hands over my face. “I liked him. He kissed me. It was a beautiful moment, but that’s all girls like me get.”
Marian shoved my thigh with her big toe. Her decorated toenail, with its tiny rhinestone flower on a soft red background, dug into my bare skin an inch below the edge of my sweat shorts. No reason to dress well if I was just moping around my place today. Sunday—the day Cormac had suggested for us to get together.
“Ouch!”
“Stop whining. It’s annoying—and beneath you. You moved up from the wrong side of the city. Sure, you have a heap of student loans, but you also have a good job that might become a great job if you’d go into private-sector work.”
