The next morning, I turn on my phone to find he’s blown it up with calls and texts. Most of my family have done the same. Bitch that I feel like being, I refuse to read the messages or listen to the voicemails. Thanks to lack of sleep and maybe some crying, I look awful. I have circles under my eyes, and my face remains blotchy, so I do what I can with makeup. Which isn’t much because my mood shows in my expression. I’ve never been good at hiding my emotions when hurt.
And my heart feels like it has shattered.
Since it is Sunday, I don’t have to go to the office. The Thunder aren’t playing until four p.m., and I don’t plan on watching the game in case I catch a quick glimpse of Hudson working on the sidelines. No matter what I put on television, the conversation between Hudson and Braden repeats itself over and over in my head.
“He’ll give me the money if I get married and provide him and my mother an heir,” Hudson says, stopping me cold in the doorway.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. What century is this?” Her brother had sounded pissed.
“That’s what I asked, but he’s not backing down.”
“So how badly do you want the money? Enough to get married and get your wife to pop out a kid?” Braden asks.
My twin knows I am involved with Hudson, so I have no doubt he’d been joking. But Hudson’s next words had devastated me.
“It wouldn’t hurt.”
It wouldn’t hurt for him to get married and pop out a kid, as my brother had so crudely put it, and we all know who the candidate for the role would be. What I can’t reconcile is how my brother can have sided with him. He said I took Hudson’s words out of context, but what other conclusion should I have drawn?
I pull out my phone and order in more ice cream, enough to fill my freezer, from the supermarket, and spend the day watching comedies that don’t make me laugh.
Around two, my phone rings, and a glance tells me it is Austin. I frown but take the call just in case it is about my family. “Hello?” I ask warily.
“Hey. There’s a situation in the locker room with your client Dion Davis. He had a fistfight with an attendant because his towels were still damp and he took a swing. The guy set Dion up because he had a camera going, but it’s a problem, and you need to get down here and do damage control. You know how Dion gets when he’s pissed off, and with the media involved…”
He trails off, but I am already out of my pity party seat on the couch and pulling on clothes in my bedroom. Not long after, I sit in the office of Ian Dare, owner of the Miami Thunder and also my cousin, along with Austin, Dion’s agent. Ian is reading my hair-trigger, prima-donna PR client the riot act. Why a grown man can’t keep his temper in check for a two-million-dollar paycheck with his contract coming up and an even bigger payday ahead is beyond me.
Finally, we’d calmed the beast, and Dion heads back down to his teammates. Austin and I walk out of the room to find Ian waiting in the hall, suit on, arms folded across his chest.
“Well?”
“He’ll calm down,” Austin promises.
“And I’ll see if I can get the attendant not to press assault charges. After all, he lost his job, and the whole thing was a setup. He’s after money he’s not going to get. Not when I have his phone with the evidence.” Ian pats his jacket pocket.
I nod in thanks. I am used to dealing with people who are after money from my clients, who make false pregnancy claims and generally are after something they don’t deserve.
“Now if you’ll both excuse me, I have a game to watch.” Ian walks away, turning around long enough to say, “I left word for you both to be let up to my box.”
I look up at my brother. “I hadn’t planned to watch the game.”
Austin’s gaze softens. “I don’t know what happened exactly but—”
“Can we leave it that way? I don’t feel like rehashing it.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Sure. Let’s stay for the game, okay?”
Swallowing hard, I nod. “Sure. It’ll be good to spend time with you that has nothing to do with work.”
We head to Ian’s box, a place the entire family has been before, and I watch the game, deliberately keeping my gaze away from the sidelines and Hudson, the man watching out for injuries as he does his job.
Austin and I don’t discuss my private life, for which I am grateful. Instead, I listen to my brother talk about how Jenny has had a growth spurt and is in the next size baby clothes and other milestones, things that at one time would have sent the man who’d sworn to be a bachelor forever running far and fast. I soakin all the news about my niece because I adore that baby, and the chitchat distracts me from my emotional pain.
My phone buzzes, and I check the screen. Someone has obviously told Braden I am here because he sent a text asking me to meet him by the locker room after the game.
Since I need a word with my twin, I stay after the Thunder won. Austin and I say goodbye, and I gather my bag, heading out of the box and down the stairs, walking to where Braden has said to meet.
Leaning against the wall in the dimly lit hallway, I watch as people come and go. A few minutes later, the double doors swing open, and I look up to see Hudson step out. My stomach twists as I glance at him. Wearing a pair of dark chinos and a black Thunder shirt, he stops short when he sees me, his eyes opening wide.
