“Everything,” I tell her, pulling her onto my lap so she’s straddling me. “Starting with getting you out of this shirt.”
I’ve just gotten my hands under the hem when her phone buzzes on the coffee table. She glances at it, and I see her expression change.
“What is it?”
“Text from Sadie—that’s Tyson’s friend’s mom. Apparently someone posted photos of us leaving the courthouse last month. They’re circulating on social media again.”
My stomach drops. “What kind of photos?”
She shows me her phone. It’s a Twitter thread with several pictures—us walking out of the courthouse holding hands, standing in the parking garage and kissing her forehead while she cries, and finally me helping her into the car.
The captions are what make my jaw clench.
Dex Malone’s GF finally won custody from abusive ex-cop
Seattle defenseman’s new family situation gets MESSY
Hockey WAG drama: the whole story
“Fuck,” I mutter, scrolling through the comments. They’re a mix of supportive and awful, the way internet comments always are. Lots of people defending her, but enough negativity to make me want to throw my phone across the room.
“It’s fine,” she says quickly, but there’s tension in her shoulders. “Sadie just thought I should know in case other parents bring it up at pickup today.”
“It’s not fine.” I set both our phones aside, focusing on her face. “You didn’t ask for this attention. Neither did the kids.”
“No, but it comes with dating you. I knew that going in.”
“Knowing something and living with it are different things,” I point out. “How are you really feeling about all this?”
She’s quiet for a moment, considering. “It’s weird,” she admits finally. “Being recognized at the grocery store. Having other parents at school look at me differently. Knowing that people are discussing my personal life online.”
“Good weird or bad weird?”
“Both? I mean, most people are supportive. And it’s not like I’m embarrassed about our relationship or what happened with Evan. But sometimes I feel like I’m living someone else’s life.”
I study her face, looking for signs of regret or second thoughts. “Do you want me to talk to the team’s PR people? See if they can do anything about limiting coverage?”
“Can they do that?”
“They can try. Make some calls, ask nicely for privacy, especially where the kids are concerned.”
She leans forward, resting her forehead against mine. “You’d do that?”
“Goldie, I’d do anything to make this easier for you. Anything.”
“I know,” she says softly. “That’s part of why I love you.”
The word still makes my chest tight with emotion. Love. Something I thought I understood before I met her, but turns out I didn’t have a clue.
“I love you too,” I tell her, meaning it more than I’ve ever meant anything. “You and the kids. This whole crazy, complicated, perfect life we’re building.”
She kisses me then, and I can taste her morning coffee, feel the smile still on her lips.
“Show me,” she whispers.
“Show you what?”
“How much you love me. We’ve got three hours, remember?”
