Page 21

Marty

It takes a second for it to register that someone has just walked in on us, but I’m quick to grab the blanket and yank it around us as best I can since we’re on top of the covers.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, guys!” Chey lets out a squeak, steps back out, and closes the door behind her. We can hear her laughter fade as she walks away, and Stevie snickers too.

“Leave it to Chey.”

“It’s like we are never, ever truly alone,” I mumble, though I’m chuckling too. I’m not overly shy, and with Stevie on top of me, her back to the door, there wasn’t a whole lot for Chey to see. Not that there’s any doubt about what we were doing since I’m still balls-deep inside of her.

“We’ll figure it out,” she says, starting to pull away and roll over.

I hate losing the closeness we’ve just shared—the intimacy—but she doesn’t go far. She simply curls into my side and rests her head in the crook of my shoulder.

“That what you want, Stevie?” I ask quietly. “For us to figure things out? I understand if it was a one-off. It’s kind of been building between us for a while now. But I know my life is hella complicated right now.”

I feel her stiffen a little. “Is that what you think?” she asks, her voice filled with confusion. “That this was some kind of… one-off ?”

“It’s not what I think or what I want,” I say carefully, “but I understand a woman like you can have almost anyone. Why would you want to take on the chaos of my life? My custody battle is going to be heating up soon, and I have three kids, which means a lot less time together once my mom leaves.”

“I knew all that before we did this,” she says. “If it were an issue, we wouldn’t be here. What makes you think that?”

Until now, I haven’t allowed myself to believe this could be more than either something short-term or a friends-with-benefits thing.

“Let’s be honest,” I say, making sure to hold her close. “You’re one of the top models in the world—not to mention one of the most beautiful. You truly could have anyone, and I’m not much of a catch. I’m thirty-two, in the middle of a divorce, with three kids who may or may not be living with me starting in October.

“If my wife gets custody, I’m probably going to owe her a fuck-ton of money in alimony and child support, so even though I make good money, that will take a chunk out of it. If I get custody, I’m going to be a full-time dad and a full-time hockey player, which you know is more than a full-time job sometimes, which means I’ll have very little time for you. And if I’m honest, I’m sure I’m fifty-percent responsible for the demise of my marriage, so I don’t know how good of a boyfriend I would be.”

I could probably be more self-deprecating if I wanted to, but I figure that’s more than enough post-coital honesty.

“Are you done?” she asks after a moment.

Uh oh.

She sounds annoyed.

“Uh…yeah.”

“I already know all of that, and despite what I’ve been through, I’m not stupid. I understand you have children and are going through a messy divorce. But you seem to forget that I’m a hot mess too. My ex’s trial is coming up, probably in October or November, and I’m the star witness. I guarantee you I will be in nightmare, anxiety-attack hell, so any guy who’s involved with me is going to have to deal with that. Not to mention the fact that I can’t have children. From the outside looking in, I’m no prize either.”

This wasn’t the conversation I thought we’d be having after making love for the first time, but it’s obviously one we need to have.

“Do you not want to do this anymore?” I ask finally. “Is it better to walk away before either of us gets in too deep? My trauma has been emotional, and there are kids involved, but what you went through is a lot worse. I would never want to do anything that might dredge up the past or even keep you from moving on.”

She’s quiet for a beat but then shakes her head. “That’s just it, Marty—you make everything in my life better . From little things like holding me after I’ve had a nightmare to inviting me into the fold and making me feel welcome with your family. That’s something I’ve never really had. And it’s huge to me.”

“Then you do want to do this.” I twist so I can look into her eyes.

“Did you really think I would say no?” she asks incredulously.

“I feel like a lot of people have taken advantage of you over the years, and I don’t want to be another one.”

“Are you planning to take advantage of me?”

“Never.”

“Then maybe we should stop overthinking everything. I’ve spent the last nine months or so going over every detail of my last two relationships—what I could have done better, what I did wrong, what I didn’t do at all, who’s really to blame... It’s enough to make me an insecure mess, and I don’t want to bring that baggage into our relationship. I’m trying so hard to start over, a clean slate… what about you?”

I hesitate.

A clean slate sounds amazing.

But it’s hard to do that with three innocent babies at home who desperately need their parents to work this custody bullshit out. No matter what I do, Brenna will always be their mother.

“There are some parts of my past that I’ll never be free of,” I say gently. “No matter how much I’d like it, Brenna will always be in my life because of the kids.”

“I know that. She’s their mom. I get it. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about us… our relationship. Whatever we decide to do, wherever this goes, I want a fresh start. You and me, starting something from scratch.”

“I can do that.” I use my fingers to tilt up her face to mine.

And I kiss her.

Until we’re both breathless and needy and I’m inside her again.

* * *

It’s another hour before we’re showered, dressed, and ready to go downstairs to see Chey and Ivan. Stevie looks almost as gorgeous in shorts and a tank top as she does naked, and I snake out an arm to tug her into my chest, kissing her one more time.

“You look good enough to eat,” I murmur against her lips.

“I’m looking forward to that,” she whispers, gazing up at me.

I think I’m crazy about her.

“Hey, guys!” Ivan looks up from where he and Chey are putting away groceries when we get to the kitchen.

“Welcome home!” Stevie runs to hug Chey and Ivan shakes my hand, a twinkle in his eye.

“I guess we missed a lot while we were gone,” he says.

I grin. “Eh, maybe a little.”

“I thought you were coming home Saturday ,” Stevie says pointedly.

“It’s winter in Australia and there was a storm coming,” Chey said, “so we opted to get out ahead of it. And here we are.”

“Surprise was on you, though!” Stevie says, laughing.

Chey wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, I didn’t need to see that.”

“Sorry not sorry,” Stevie quips.

The two of them giggle, and for the first time, it occurs to me that Brenna never had many close friends. And she really wasn’t friendly with any of the other wives and girlfriends on the team. In some ways, I’d always felt alienated because of it. We went to the occasional party or get-together, but for the most part, we stayed home with the kids and did our own thing.

I never realized how much I missed out on because of it. Seeing Stevie with Chey, and Chey with Ivan—it brings my worlds together in more ways than one.

“I need to check in with my mom,” I tell Stevie.

She nods. “Whatever you need to do. We can meet them at the house or we can go to dinner somewhere.”

“Taking three kids five and under out to dinner is a lot,” I say, chuckling.

She shrugs. “Whatever’s easier for your mom, I’m game.”

“Give me a minute.” I call my mom and she answers on the first ring.

“Okay, I’m tired,” she says, laughing. “I might be too old for three toddlers.”

I grimace. “I’m sorry—I’m on my way now. Do you have a plan for dinner or do you want to meet us somewhere?”

“I don’t care, as long as I don’t have to cook.”

“Then let’s do an early dinner. Do you remember where Casa del Papaya is? The kids like it there and there’s a little game room in the back for Martin and Emma to play in so we can enjoy our meal.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“See you there in about forty minutes? I’m on the other side of town and it’s almost rush hour.”

“No worries. Are you bringing Stevie?”

“I think so, yes.”

“I guess your conversation went well.”

I’d told my mother that I was planning to talk to Stevie—I hadn’t planned to attack her the moment I walked in the door, but that worked out pretty well.

“It did,” is all I say. She’ll ask for more details later.

“I’m really glad, son. I like her. And she seems to make you happy. That’s really all a mom can ask for.”

I smile and disconnect.

“Do you feel like Mexican?” I ask Stevie.

She nods. “I always feel like Mexican.”

“I’m going to meet Mom and the kids at a place we like called Casa del Papaya.”

“Harper loves it there!” Chey chimes in. “And the queso is really good.”

“I’m always down for good queso,” Stevie says, nodding. “Let me just change shirts and we can go.”

“Have fun, you two!” Chey calls out.

I follow Stevie back up the stairs.

“Bring an overnight bag,” I say softly, leaning against the wall as she puts on a light blue T-shirt that covers a bit more than her tank top.

“What?” She glances up, knitting her brows together slightly.

“If we’re doing this, then we need to be able to have sleepovers at my place too.”

“What about the kids?”

“I can hear them if they need me. I still have monitors in their rooms.”

She opens her mouth but then closes it again, giving me a little nod.

“That’s going to take me a minute.”

“Take all the time you need—just bring something to sleep in. That’s the only thing that sucks about being a parent, not being able to sleep naked.”

She laughs. “I don’t even get to sleep naked here.”