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They head off and I turn to Logan. “Sorry about that. It’s like working with a bunch of untrained puppies.” I watch them gather around Coach Bryant. “All in all, they’re pretty harmless.”

Logan takes my hand. “For the record, I agree, you do look hot in that dress.” He pushes a curl of hair behind my ear. “Stunning, actually.”

The compliment makes my cheeks flush, but it also brings a warring conflict in my chest. Isn’t Logan what I’ve wanted? Why I agreed to Reese’s help in the first place? I hate the confused, weird way this whole thing makes me feel.

I conceal all of this from Logan by suggesting we grab some food before the guys wipe out the buffet. We load up our plates, and I purposefully avoid the tables at the back of the room. They’re occupied with a myriad of athletes, accompanied by dates.

Brent is a central figure, with Shanna draped over his arm in a shiny, sparkling dress. They exude the air of a perfect couple. And when I spot Nadia and Reese seated with the rest of the hockey team, I get the same vibe. There’s a certain kind of woman that is required to support a leader like Reese. I know she’s not genuinely dating him, but her time chasing jerseys has finally paid off. Like Shanna, she knows exactly how to behave and act in this environment. She can be here for Reese and not have to split her attention between his goals and her own. That’s what he deserves.

And exactly what I can’t give him.

I lead Logan over to sit at a table with Coach Green and his wife, Janie. Jonathan’s there with his boyfriend, Rich, and there are a few other trainers that work with the other teams. This is where I belong. Logan helps me scoot in my chair and I put on my best effort while we eat.

“Hey,” I say to Logan after the plates are cleared, “I’m going to the restroom.”

He stands with me. “I’ll grab us another drink.”

I smile. “Thanks.”

I’ve just stepped out of the bathroom stall when Nadia walks in. We approach the sinks at the same time. I turn on the faucet, and she drops her purse on the granite countertop.

“You and Logan seem like you’re having fun,” she says, fishing out her lip gloss. “For a skinny guy he sure fills out a suit.”

“He’s a nice guy.” Her eyes meet mine in the mirror and I blurt, “You and Reese look good together.”

“Well, a sack of potatoes would look good next to him,” she mutters, opening her mouth into a circle. “But you should’ve seen Brent’s face when we walked in–” She stops abruptly, eyes widening. “Are you crying?”

“No,” I lie, grabbing a tissue off the counter and dabbing my eyes. “Absolutely not.”

“You are. You’re crying.” Panic fills her eyes. “Fuck no, that is not what’s supposed to happen.”

“I know he’s not mine to claim. I just… God, Nadia. Reese? Really? Do you like him?”

“Twy.” She drops her lip gloss and spins, grabbing me by the arms. “First of all, there is no reality where I’d go out with Reese Cain for real. He’s your ex–and that is a hard no for me. He’s also too fucking functional, and you know my type is hot and messy.”

I chuckle, because it’s true. One of the reasons it hit me so hard is that it took me by surprise.

“You do know the real reason he invited me, right?” she asks.

“Because you know how to make small talk, have killer tits, and will look perfect in the press photos next to the captain of the hockey team,” I guess. At the end of the day, Nadia is everything that I’m not. Confident, sexy, beautiful…

“Um, no.” She rolls her eyes. “He invited me because his coach said it was mandatory for the players to have a date and it would look bad if the captain didn’t follow through. You weren’t going to go with him and he sure as fuck didn’t want to open the door for another girl to get the wrong idea.” She squeezes my hand. “Babe, he’s locked down. Foryou. And he wanted to make that absolutely clear by bringing the one person who understood that.”

Her statement swirls in my head. He didn’t bring another date because he’s waiting for me? Even if it’s true, I’m not sure it matters.

“It hurt seeing you with him,” I admit.

“It hurt because you’re still in love with him,” she says gently.

“I may be, but nothing has changed. Nothing will change and we both need to get over it.”

Me. SoIcan get over him.

She snorts.

“What?” I ask.

“Men like Reese don’t get over stuff. They see an obstacle and figure out a way to bulldoze over it, or smash through it.”