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My lips curl into a sly smile. “I’m quite fond of sharing you. It’s making me hard just thinking about it.”
She slaps my arm. “You know what I mean. What if you wake up one morning and want a normal relationship?”
I shrug, turning my palms up. “Where am I waking up? A psych ward after electric shock therapy? There’s nothing normal about us. I love you. You love me. Ethan loves you. You love Ethan. We’re having a baby. Then, we’ll have another baby. They’ll both be boys and raised together as superstars, and Ethan and I will be forced to retire and coach them.”
I don’t miss the pleased grin on her face. She secretly adores the idea. She just hates being vulnerable.
“Wow. You have this all planned out. What if you dislike having a baby around?”
Apparently, we’re playing twenty questions, and I rest against the seat, facing her. “I already want to quit so I can stay home and hold a baby we don’t even have yet. I love him more every day. You two are the best thing to ever happened to me.”
“What if I don’t want another child?”
I roll my eyes. “Blasphemy. We’re having a hockey team of kids. Next.”
“Fine. You test me now.”
“Is this part of the deal?”
“Yes.”
I feign an exaggerated sigh. “What if I don’t want to play hockey?”
Her answer comes immediately. “Then you’ll need to get a hobby. You have too much energy.”
“Okay. What if I lose all my money?”
“I’ll go back to escorting.” She grins because she knows it’s bullshit, and probably because she’s not worried. I’m glad.
“That’s not even funny.” Then, I ask, “What if I relapse?”
All humor leaves her face. “You won’t.” Caramel eyes stare into the depths of my soul. “If you do, I’m taking your money, moving to New York, where you hate the weather, buying premium season tickets to the Stars, and seducing my next husband with low-cut shirts and blow jobs.”
Her tone is tart, but I know very well she’ll punish me with something equally painful if I repeat my last relapse.
I slowly blink. “Wow. That’s oddly specific. Any certain player you have in mind?”
She arches a brow. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Yes, I would. You’re making that jersey—the one you just happened to have—more and more suspicious.”
She cocks her head and gives me a mocking smile. “Actually, it was gifted to me.”
Irritation swarms in my chest. “By fucking who?”
She ignores me, widening her eyes with a gasp. “Oh! Or maybe I’ll go after their coach. Then, I’d have access toallthe players.”
Now I know she’s being ludicrous.
“That’s it. I’m calling Ethan. How does he punish your smart mouth?”
“I’m not telling you.” She bites her lips shut.
And just like that, we’re engaged—with the threat of her banging the entire New York hockey team if I fuck up. Which, of course, is a joke, because I’d commit murder first.
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AURORA