Her foot touched me under the table. “So I have to ask,” she added. “Why are you still single?”
I clenched up. “I’m not, though. I’m with you now.”
“Well, sort of. Do you plan on seeing anyone else? You know. While we’re ...”
My muscles tensed. “No. Wouldn’t that be a violation of the marital agreement?”
“I’m just curious. Do you plan on seeing anyone else? Actually, let me rephrase that. We shouldn’t see anyone else while we’re in the thick of this.”
My eyes drifted to my ring on my finger, resting on top of the table. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”
“Well,” she said. “Marriage doesn’t mean what it used to, right? It used to be one person for life and there was a huge stigma around divorce. Now—does the Catholic church even really care?”
“I’m half-Catholic and half Lutheran,” I said.
She stiffened. “Oh, my grandmother wouldnotbe okay with this right now.”
“You keep saying that. She was super Catholic?”
Cat nodded. “Both of my parents are. My dad was from Ireland, and his parents were very Catholic. Same with my Spanish Catalan grandparents.”
“Your dad was Irish,” I remarked.
“Yeah. Can you see my freckles?” she pointed to a tiny red dot on her cheek just below her glasses.
The server brought the check, and I smiled as I leaned back in my chair.
Cat had on one of my black team hoodies, frosty blue colored yoga pants and the new boots she’d gotten as part of our tour around town today. My coffee buzz kicked in and I had a pleasant thought. This was the soberest I’d been—we’d been—all weekend.
With most girls, this was the time when I’d start pushing them away. Coming up with an excuse not to hang out with them after an all-star weekend. After all, this was temporary. We had, what, five months to go until we were in June and it was the end of the season? Cat and I could quietly divorce and she’d have her visa squared away and I’d have won my Stanley cup with the Tigers.
A month after the season, in July, we’d be done.
And Cat herself was stressing the temporariness of this arrangement.
It was perfect.
Strangely—maybe this was a testament to just how commitment averse my heart was—knowing how temporary this would be set me at ease, and I wanted to get to know every last detail about Cat in the time we had together.
“More coffee, sir?” the bartender said.
“You know what? Yes, I’ll have some.”
“So cold out there today,” she said offhandedly, refilling our mugs. “Great for a Netflix marathon.”
When she left, I cleared my throat and turned to Cat. “I think we’ve learned enough about each other for today. The bartender is right. How about we head home for a quickie and a Netflix marathon before your flight leaves tomorrow?”
Her lips parted, and she made full eye contact. “Why, are you tired?”
“Not really. Why would you ask that?”
“Because I’d rather we do a marathon and a Netflix quickie. But if you’re tired ... that’s okay.”
I felt adrenaline rush through me. She was baiting me. And I liked it.
“Marathon it is,” I smirked. I’d teach her a lesson for this. Lucky for her, it would be the fun kind.
CHAPTER 15
