A lawyer, a billionaire, some high-powered man who has as little time for me as I’d have for him. ‘Someonewhoappreciates you for all that you are, Rosie.’Is what he'd always said. ‘You're the most beautiful woman in the room, but weak men will always be intimated by you.’
I’m a career wife. The kind who works just as hard, brings in just as much, and meets her match in someone equally driven.
We’d hardly see each other, our kids would be raised by a nanny just like I was, and our marriage would be more of a partnership than a love story.
That thought makes me want to throw up now.
Because after being with someone like Boone—a rough, attentive, desirable,solidman like him—how could I ever go back to the other option?
Boone’s not a weak man, he’s a force of nature, shaped by years of hockey and a life built in the heart of the country.
His muscles don’t come from a gym session between conference calls; they’re earned from grit and sweat, from chasing dreams on the ice and fighting for every inch of his success.
I don’t want soft. I don’t want polished. I don’t want scheduled. I don’t want structured. I don’t want someone who fits neatly into a box my father would approve of. I don't need a billionaire.
I want a reckless, wild,all-consuminglove.
I want Boone’s love.
And the thought that I might not deserve it? That I might not be enough for it? Ortoo much.It kills me.
The interviewer shifts his attention to Boone, pulling me from my thoughts.
“So, what’s got you playing like you’re twenty years old again, Tremblay? I mean, you’ve beenonfirethis season. Is it simply motivation to get resigned to the Mayhem that has you burning up the ice?”
Boone grins, and instead of looking at the interviewer for his response, his gaze locks directly on the camera lens.
“I’ve had my lucky charm in the crowd this season.”
I draw in a breath at the exact wrong time, mid-chew on a grape, and end up choking.
Jill pats my back, laughing softly. “He’s obsessed,” she whispers, smirking at me. “Just the way we like our men.”
“He’s not talking about—.” But my train of thought is cut off because Boone is now lifting his hand and his fingers are brushing over his wedding band as he examines it.
Then slowly,intentionally, he brings the gold ring to his nose and takes an obviousinhaleof the cool metal.
Right on live TV.
Jill’s jaw drops. My eyes practically bulge out of my head.
It’s like the whole thing didn’t even happen because just as smoothly as he did it, Boone redirects his attention to the interviewer and starts talking about strategy for the rest of the season, stats, and all the hockey things that the public want to know.
Jill leans toward me, her voice quiet enough not to draw any attention from the other families waiting in the tunnel.
“Um… did I imagine that, or did your husband just sniff hiswedding band?”
“I…” I stammer, trying to process what I just saw. “I’m not sure?”He most definitely did.And I know why.
She smiles knowingly, like she’s having way too much fun with this, then turns back to the TV screen as her husband begins to talk again.
“You two are the best. I’m so glad he found you. I've truly never seen him this happy.”
And just like that, my throat goes dry, and my chest tightens. Because no matter how chaotic this fake marriage has been, or how tangled my feelings are, one truth stands out:
I’m so glad he found me, too.
Chapter 26: Boone
