She let that settle, then touched her fingertips to the side of my head. “You have paint in your hair.”
“I’ve been getting the baby’s room ready.”
“You have?”
“Yeah, the one in my house. I went with yellow. Nice and bright, and you can almost see the water from that room. Super Kid’s gonna love it.”
Her eyes filled again. “You’re such a dick.”
“I know.”
Her heart wasn’t enough. I planned to use every tool at my disposal to win this woman’s trust. But I wouldn’t press any further because she needed to keep her shit together for the rest of this day.
“Let’s get through this and the Finals,” I said. “Then you and I are going to have a reckoning.”
Chapter Fifty
Cup Finals
Series score: Chicago 3, Boston 2
Game 6
Boston @ Chicago
* * *
Franky
* * *
“Oh, this is so exciting.” Melissa looked around the owners’ box in Rebels Arena and gave a small wave to Sean, who had stopped at the bar and was talking to his brother, Theo. “Now, which one is your aunt?”
“Harper, the CEO.” I gestured to the knockout blonde, still vivacious at almost sixty, seated in the front row with Rebels GM, Ryder Calloway. “Well, she’s my step-aunt. My stepmother Violet is her half-sister, so that’s step-half-aunt, I suppose? But I’ve known her and my aunt Isobel all my life because Dad played his entire career with the Rebels.”
Mel posed a few more queries about other people in the box—executives, spouses, former players. The place was packed. Everyone wanted a piece of the Rebels during the Finals.
I shifted in my seat, looking for a modicum of comfort from the back pain. These chairs weren’t designed for women carrying the weight of a whale, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. In a little under three weeks, our baby would be here and I thought she should be here to see her father achieve the ultimate goal of his career. They could win the Cup tonight.
The puck dropped at 7:31pm and it wasn’t long before Jason was in the fray. He blocked so many shots, it was a wonder he wasn’t in goal. The man was rock solid in that back third, and by the time the first period was over, the teams were at a cagey draw. No one was getting by Jason Isner when he was on the ice. I loved seeing that—Jason’s solidity, strength, and protectiveness of his players and that net.
He would be like that with our baby.
Maybe even with me.
He had said he loved me, that I was too stubborn to accept what was staring me in the face. It wasn’t stubbornness. It was fear, plain and simple.
The game headed into the first break, just as Rosie sat by me.
“Think I’d better use the restroom.”
Melissa touched my arm. “Need company?”
“Oh, I’m fine.” A twinge in my abdomen pulled me up short. “Ooh.”
“You okay?”
“It’s just indigestion.”
