I pinch the bridge of my nose and answer it, putting the cell to my ear. “I thought you said this could wait until tomorrow.”
“It is tomorrow,” he states, making me look at my watch.
12:06 a.m.
I roll my eyes. “What do you want?”
“You clearly haven’t been online yet,” he mutters, sighing. When he speaks next, there’s a hardness in his voice. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth? All of these years you’ve been lying to me.”
What the hell is he going off about? “Ash, I already saw the headlines earlier. You of all people should know I’m not going to go online to see what people are—”
“Not about you and Winter.” He curses, sounding impatient. “Look at your goddamn phone, asshole.”
I shake my head and put my phone on speaker, shooting Winter an apologetic look. Then I open up my browser and see the first article in the trending news section.
“Holy shit,” I whisper.
“Yeah,” Ashton says. “Care to fucking explain?”
Winter is sitting up, eyes alert. “What?” she asks, frowning. Her hand goes to my leg, as if to comfortme. “What is it?”
I can’t look at her though.
All I can focus on is the headline.
Emaly Moskins-Yokav, wife of Fairbanks Fireflies right-winger Thomas Moskins, comes out amidst her husband’s latest cheating scandal.
The 34-year-old makes a big announcement only hours after news broke of her husband’s newest affair.
Moskins-Yokav, who has never commented on the press surrounding her husband of thirteen years, has chosen to speak out to clear his name.
“I think it’s time to be honest with the world about what’s really going on, because my husband doesn’t deserve the backlash he’s continually gotten over the past decade. The world knows Thomas Moskins not only as a skilled hockey player who’s helped his team win three Stanley Cups, but as an unfaithful husband. And I’m here to tell you that isn’t the truth. My husband has always been the most loyal person I know, who would sacrifice his happiness for the sake of everybody else. And I’ve selfishly allowed him to do that for too long. So, it’s time you knew the truth.
“My name is Emaly, and I’m in love with the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. I met her after I married Thomas and have been with her for the majority of my marriage. If anybody is the cheater, it’s me. I love Thomas and the relationship we have, but it’s time for him to be happy as well. So I’m asking you all to respect our privacy instead of using the photographs online to create a false narrative. Thomas isn’t cheating on me. He’s free to do what he wants with whom he wants, same as me. Thank you.”
I gape at the article until I hear, “…you even listening to me right now?”
Shit. Ashton. “I’m here.” My throat is dry. “I didn’t know that she was going to do this.”
It’s time to end this, she’d said to me. I didn’t know what she meant—I hadn’t asked her because all I could think about was Winter.
“Looks like I wasn’t the only one with secrets,” my agent bemuses. “This makes a hell of a lot more sense now.”
But I don’t feel like having this conversation with him. “I’ll call you—”
“Tomorrow,” he finishes for me. “Go figure. Fine. But we’re having a meeting because I’m getting a lot of calls from a lot of people who want to hear your side of things.”
That’s too fucking bad, because they’re not getting it.
When I hang up, I look at Winter. She looks wary, nervous. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell her, believing it for the first time. I bring my hand to cup her face and run the pad of my thumb along her bottom lip, tracing the shape.
I take a deep breath and watch her, my eyes roaming over her face. Her eyes are glassy still, whether from exhaustion or the tears she shed earlier, I’m not sure. They’re red-rimmed and sullen but beautiful all the same.
She wets her lips. “What?”
“You’re beautiful,” is all I say, letting my thumb move to her jaw and caress the skin.
She blushes. “We should probably talk about what comes next. Because there’s—”
