Rhys types something on his phone, a small smile tugging at his mouth.
And I’m left alone with my thoughts.
That’s when it hits me again.
You married her.
I stare at my hands.
The same hands that signed the certificate.
The same hands that held her.
The same hands that now feel like they belong to someone else.
Talia Petrov.
Coach’s daughter.
My wife.
My chest tightens.
How unlucky can one man be?
Of all the women in Vegas.
Of all the cities in the world.
Of all the possible disasters.
It had to be her.
I don’t do chaos.
I don’t do drama.
I don’t make reckless decisions.
I built my entire career on discipline.
Control.
Precision.
And in one drunken night, I destroyed all of it.
***
The flight lands at JFK just as a grey, drizzly New York afternoon issettling in.
The camaraderie of the plane evaporates as soon as we hit the tarmac.
We’re back in the real world now. The season starts in a couple of weeks.
The fun is over.
We disembark quickly, grabbing our bags.
