Page 74 of The Puck Bunny

“I see,” she says, staring at me.

“We saw each other for dinner a couple of times, had a few more nights together, but it was time to move on because the media—not to mention my teammates—were starting to make a big deal out of us. Social media was wild with stories of an impending marriage. So, I decided to put on the breaks and blow the whistle on the relationship. I told her I needed to focus on hockey and couldn’t see her anymore.”

“Sounds familiar,” Sara says. “I’m feeling sorry for her so far and I don’t want to feel sorry for her.”

“Oh, don’t worry, her feelings weren’t hurt. We didn’t have much of a connection really.”

“Not even in bed?” she has the surprising nerve to ask.

I laugh.

“Sweetheart, I can find a connection with almost any woman in bed, but that doesn’t make for a relationship.”

“Got it. You were a man-whore.”

I snort. “Thank you for using past tense.” I clear my throat and take another sip of the brandy. “Back to Princess Anica. She didn’t take me seriously and showed up at the next game which was in Tampa, and invited herself to stay over with me.”

Sara’s eyes widen. “What did you do?”

“I couldn’t kick her out and didn’t want to create a scene for the media that was constantly following us around. I was the hockey playboy and she was the jet-setting beautiful princess; a perfect made-for-Hollywood love story they didn’t want to let go of. And neither did she.”

“I remember the coverage. I didn’t like the story.”

I laugh and squeeze her shoulder.

“So, what did you do?”

“I let her stay and then had a heart-to-heart talk with her the next morning. Told her I never wanted to see her again and that, if she forced it, I would break up with her in public, making a huge scene.” I shrug. “I felt like a Class-A asshole telling her and making her cry for Christ’s sake, but she needed to leave me alone.”

“I bet the tears weren’t real.” She put a hand to my face, caressing my cheek in a comforting sexy way that makes my dick stir in my pants. I lose track of my story for a second, staring into Sara’s eyes, drinking in the beauty of her face. Of her soul.

“So, she left you alone and you lived happily ever after?” she prompts.

I laugh. “Not. The next time I heard from her was a phone call from Romaldestan.”

What did she say?”

“She told me she was pregnant and asked me to come to Romaldestan to take care of it.”

Sara sucks in air like she’s about to drown and clutches my arm. “Oh. My. God. I had no idea. I’m so—”

“Let me finish the story. When I got there, she took me to Paris to supposedly see her doctor. We were seen together everywhere for two days, except at the doctor’s office. I started getting suspicious and more than agitated because my dad was sick and I wanted to get home to see him.

“When I questioned her, she then pretended to have a miscarriage. I was more than suspicious now—more like livid—because, well, let’s face it, she is who she is. So, when she was on a call supposedly with the doctor’s office, I eavesdropped. She was talking to her mother and her conversation confirmed that she’d fabricated the whole thing.”

“Oh my God. Crap.” She vibrates with emotions, her face paling.

“Oh yeah.”

“How did you not strangle her on the spot? If I’d been there—”

I laugh and wonder if she might just have done some damage. “I confronted her and she was forced to admit she’d never been pregnant. But it was too late. I got a call from my brother that my dad had passed, literally as I was making the arrangements to go home.”

Sara throws her arms around me, hugging me like I’d needed back then, consoling me. And even though it should have been too little too late, her warmth and shaky arms holding me tight give me a measure of relief. In this moment, I feel lighter, less like a terrible person, less undeserving than I’ve felt in a long time. We separate and I brush her cheek because she’s shed tears of empathy, making me feel something I can’t remember feeling. Tight-chested, yet not in a bad way.

I take a deep breath. “Let me finish.”

“There’s more?” her voice vibrates and she braces herself.