“I don’t fucking care about your father. Do you think that when you were a very cute, probably smart beyond your years little girl, you ever ran across a dumb kid on skates?” I grin at the potential memory.
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I was pretty little.”
“I’ll ask my mom.”
“You can’t?—”
“Not now. Later. I’m not going to tell anyone now. Not until you’re ready.” I nod in the direction of the living room, where her roommates are probably eavesdropping. “Are you going to tell your friends?”
“There is nothing to tell them.”
I squeeze her hands. “But there is. Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t mean your wedding vows.”
“I don’t remember my wedding vows!” Her cheeks turn pink. “Do you?”
I wince. “I remember everything up to about midnight. And later…I remember the hotel room…I know that we meant everything we said that night, even the parts we don’t remember.”
She stares at me for a long, long beat.
I almost tell her that I love her, but it’s too soon for that. We’re doing this out of order, but we aren’t going to skip anysteps. My wife needs to fall in love with me first. I need to earn her, woo her, court her.
“There’s a lot of gaps to fill in still,” I offer, hoping that’s the right thing to say.
She nods, looking relieved.
Okay, well…I can share something that’s relevant.
“Do you want to know why I was drinking in that bar that night?”
She just stares at me. Not exactly a yes.
I keep going anyway. “I was pissed off that I’d been benched the night before. I am not your father’s favorite player right now.”
“What?” Her eyes flare wide and she pulls her hands out of mine, her chest rising and falling faster.
Shit, that wasn’t the right thing to say at all.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s really not. He’s ruthless when he feels wronged.” Hot, raw emotion colors her cheeks.
“That doesn’t scare me. Look at me. Do I look like I’m bothered? Youknowme, Francesca. You know I’m fearless.” I soften my voice. “I’m still the same guy from New Year’s Eve.”
She shakes her head. “Are you? Who is that guy? Why do you think I know him? You didn’t tell me that you were a hockey player.” Her voice shakes. “You actively hid that from me.”
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
“Weren’t we both hiding?” I ask as gently as I can manage. “We both wanted an escape.”
It’s not gentle enough. Her mouth tightens up into a stubborn little set. “And that’s what it should have stayed. You really should go. I’m sorry you came all this way, but we should leave what happens next to lawyers.”
I don’t think lawyers can help me convince her to give me a chance.
Time is of the fucking essence. “Let me help you make dinner first. Give me ten minutes to talk here. Twenty would be great. I’ll beg for thirty if there’s a chance you’ll give me that.”
She stares at me.
I stare back.
