My head spins with possibilities, but my heart tells me that it’s all true.
Bea isn’t like the other women who’ve tried to manipulate me over the years. I don’t know how I know that; I just do.
“Look, if you think this is a shock, just imagine how I felt the night of the cup final when Hailee came to tell me that she had a woman in her office who was carrying my child.”
“You found out the night of the final?” Parker gawps. “Of course you did. That’s why you played like you wanted to burn the entire world and everyone in it. That’s why you got ejected.”
Regret rages within me.
“I lost us the cup that night. I just…it fucked me up.”
“Hailee shouldn’t have told you like that.”
“To start with, I thought the same. But now, I think she might have done the right thing.”
“How? We could have won the cup, Rett.”
“We weren’t ready. It wasn’t meant to be.”
“But—”
“I know, okay? I fucking know.”
Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and just stare at her, silently begging for her to drop it. It’s bad enough that I’m haunted by my actions that night every second of every day. The last thing I want to do is talk about it. It makes the weight of my fuckups that much heavier.
“Are you…are you really going to be a dad?” Parker asks as if she didn’t just hear everything I told her.
“Yeah. I’m really gonna be a da—” The word dies on my tongue. It feels so surreal, sounds so serious.
“I’m gonna be an aunt. Holy shit. I’m going to be an aunt.” Her excitement begins to overtake as a smile spreads acrossher lips. “I’m getting married, and you’re having a baby. How fucking weird is this?”
I grunt in agreement as I sip my coffee.
“Tell me about her. What does she do? What’s she like? How far along is she?” Suddenly, Parker sits bolt upright. “She’s in LA, right? This isn’t some girl you’ve left behind in Seattle?”
I shake my head. “No, she’s here. I met her the night of the last game of the season. She was?—”
“The one you were dancing with. Dark hair. Had a friend with a crown on her head.”
I frown. How the fuck does she remember that?
“Y-yeah, that’s her. Bea. Beatrice Walsh. She was at the game wearing my jersey, and I spotted her in the crowd. There was something about her.”
“You like her,” Parker says with a smirk.
“Uhh…I’m not sure that’s…I barely know her.” The second I hear my words, I know I fucked up.
“Knew it.”
“Okay, fine. I don’t know her very well. We’ve hung out a handful of times. But she’s nice. Funny. Real. She’s a beauty therapist who owns her own salon. She isn’t after money”—at least, not from me— “or fame or any of that. She doesn’t even like hockey.”
“And yet she was at a game, wearing your jersey.”
“It’s not how it sounds.”
“I’ll withhold judgment until I’ve met her.”
I let out a heavy sigh, because I know I’m not going to be able to stop her. When Parker wants something, she gets it. And scoping out Bea is going to be no different.
