Page 28

Stevie

I felt terrible about the misunderstanding with Barracuda, so I spent the next day making it up to Marty. Not that he minded, and I know he’s not mad anymore, but I hate that I did something to make him feel insecure—or to doubt me. He says he’s fine, that he’s past it, but I still don’t like that it happened. I have to be much more careful in the future. Not because I shouldn’t have male friends, or even that I shouldn’t hug them, but because I’m Stevie Marchand.

I know how the press likes to vilify me.

I understand how the game works when it comes to my public persona, and now that I have someone as wonderful as Marty in my life, I don’t want that kind of thing to impact us. I wouldn’t be thrilled if I saw him hugging some famous pop singer when he was on a road trip, so I have to afford him the same courtesy.

It won’t be easy, because I have a lot of friends and acquaintances, and if I go back to working full-time, I’m going to see them on the regular.

The thing is, part of me is starting to wonder if it’s time to take a step back. I have a few years of modeling left in me, but I’ve always wanted to transition into acting, and this might be the time to start that process. Modeling takes me all over the world, sometimes for long periods of time, and that would mean being away from Marty. And the kids.

There’s no way to know what’s going to happen going forward but if he gets custody of the kids, someone needs to be there for them.

It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if that someone was me.

I have money so I’m not desperate to make more.

I was a little wild at the beginning of my career, but once real money started coming in my agent convinced me to get a financial planner who forced me to save and invest. I have a nice stock portfolio, a retirement fund, and a hefty savings account. Most of that is for the house I want to buy, but I don’t plan to spend all of it.

I could potentially slow down a little, be more selective with jobs, and focus more on both acting and product endorsement. There was a perfume line interested in me just before the incident with Damien, and that would have been a multi-million-dollar contract, good for three years. That’s the kind of thing I’d like to find now, so I can spend more time with Marty.

With the kids if he gets custody.

Building a family.

Making our house into a home.

As independent as I’ve always been, it suddenly feels like the right time to reassess. Marty needs me to be there for him while he’s playing hockey, and even more so if he gets custody of his kids. It doesn’t feel like a sacrifice for him—it feels like the next phase of my life.

I can still work.

We’ll have Patty and a nanny to help when we need it, but I want to be there when he comes home from a road trip.

I want to be there for him, period.

Maybe it’s time to have that talk we’ve been avoiding.

“Are you ready?” Marty’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom watching me braid my hair. We’re going to an end-of-summer cookout at Gabe and Harper’s. She’s not inviting the whole team since many of them aren’t back from wherever they live in the off-season, so it’ll be a more intimate group. That works well for me since it’s our first time attending an official team event as a couple.

I’m equal parts nervous and excited, and I’m not sure why.

I’m looking forward to meeting some of the wives and girlfriends I don’t know, but I’m worried that they’ll have preconceived notions about me. I have a reputation as a bit of an airhead, the kind of woman who likes falling in love more than being in a relationship. It’s not true, though there are elements of truth to it, so I’m a bit self-conscious about that aspect of my image.

I never cared before, but with Marty I want to be better. A better girlfriend and, more than that, a better version of myself. My therapist and I have discussed the fact that it’s possible my previous relationships fell apart because I was looking to them to make me feel better—about life, about my broken relationship with my family, about myself.

For Marty, I don’t want to be that version of me.

“Don’t forget the potato salad,” I call to him. I made a triple batch of a recipe I found online and even though it was my first time making something like that, I think it turned out pretty good.

“I’ve got it.” He comes around the corner looking devilishly handsome in navy shorts, a white polo shirt, and docksiders.

He presses a kiss on my cheek as he passes me, and I grab the beach bag I filled with towels, sunscreen, our bathing suits, and a few other odds and ends. Harper said it was casual and that we’d be outside most of the day, so I wanted to make sure we have anything we might need.

The driveway and street in front of Gabe and Harper’s house is already lined with cars when we get there, and I look around.

“I thought she said this would be a more intimate get-together?”

“I think this is intimate for them,” he says, laughing.

We walk around back together, hands linked between us. He’s carrying the big bowl of potato salad and I’ve got our beach bag, and I’m immediately aware of the curious glances coming our way.

“Is this your first time on a date since Brenna?” I ask under my breath.

“I guess it is.” He tugs me a little closer. “Don’t worry. My teammates are pretty cool, and you have friends here. No one else matters.”

“Hi, guys, welcome!” Harper calls out to us, waving.

She’s eight months pregnant and looks delightful in a red sundress that shows off her pale skin and light hair.

“Hey!” Marty waves back and I smile.

I’m relieved to see Chey and Ivan, Connor and Effie, and Canyon, Saylor, and Ally. At least there are a few people here who like me.

“Stevie!” Ally comes running over to me. “I want to show you something.”

“What, you don’t even say hello?” Marty teases her.

She laughs. “Hi, Uncle Marty! Bye, Uncle Marty!”

She tugs my hand, pulling me over to where Saylor and Effie are sitting.

“Show her,” she says in a stage whisper.

Effie chuckles. “Check it out. She came to a photo shoot with me.”

She hands me her phone and I see a beautiful picture of Ally, her face in profile, gazing off at something, hair gently blowing back from her face. It’s a stunning picture, and I can’t help but smile.

“Oh, honey, this is beautiful.”

“Keep swiping. There’s more.”

I swipe right and see another pose, this one with her smiling, and it’s sweet.

“Help me choose one to give Uncle Canyon for his birthday. Saylor and I are going to frame it.”

“Definitely this one,” I say, going back to the first one. “This is my favorite. I’d like a copy too.”

Ally flushes with happiness.

“Who took the pictures?”

“I did,” Effie says proudly. “She wanted to come up with something special for Canyon’s birthday, and I thought a photo shoot would be fun. They did her makeup when they did mine, lighter for her of course, and then I took the pictures once I was done.”

“You did a great job,” I tell her. “You have a good eye.”

“I was thinking I might feature some of her photos at the gallery,” Saylor said. “She has some of a sunset in Hawaii that will take your breath away.”

They start talking about photography and the gallery, and I sit back, gazing at where Marty is drinking a beer with Gabe and Canyon.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Ally asks me, sitting beside me.

I nod slowly, letting the question sink in and take root. “He is.”

“You really like him?”

“I do.”

“Is he…” She wrinkles her nose. “Isn’t he kind of… old?”

That makes me laugh. “I guess he is when you’re twelve. But when you’re twenty-seven, like me, thirty-two is just right.”

“Is he nicer to you than Damien was?”

She and I have had age-appropriate conversations about Damien.

“ So much nicer. He makes me feel safe and happy and loved. I never felt that from Damien or any other boyfriend I ever had.”

“But do you like his kids?” she asks dubiously. “They’re really loud. And messy.”

“I love his kids,” I admit.

“It sounds like you love him.” Her tone is filled with maturity I don’t hear from her very often, which says something. Ally, like most pre-teens, is normally extremely self-absorbed. But she noticed how I feel about Marty—as well as how others perceive us together.

I look over at him again, watching him laugh with his friends.

“I think I do,” I say softly. “But you keep that to yourself. We’re still figuring it all out. Sometimes falling in love is complicated when you’re an adult.”

“Because he already has a wife.”

“He’s legally separated,” I say firmly. “They’re just waiting for the final court date. I wouldn’t be dating him if he was married in the true sense of the word.”

“If he makes you happy, I like him.”

“Thanks.” I get up and wander over to where Marty is still hanging out with the guys.

“Hey, babe.” He slides an arm around my waist. “What was Ally all excited about?

I don’t want to ruin Canyon’s surprise, so I shake my head. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Okay.” He smiles then nuzzles my neck.

“Have you prepared her for hockey season?” One of the guys on the team I don’t know very well, Chandler Cormier, asks in a teasing voice.

“Kind of.” Marty looks a little startled as he glances at me.

“Believe me, I live with Chey and Ivan right now,” I say right away, anxious to defend Marty. “I’m very aware of the lifestyle and his schedule, as well as the compromises they both make in their schedules. We’re going to sit down with our calendars soon.”

“The sooner the better,” Gabe says. “Once the season starts, there isn’t a lot of time for much of anything. Hockey can be all-consuming.”

“We’re definitely going to sit down and talk about all that,” Marty says firmly. He lowers his head and whispers, “Thank you.” And I just smile.

He’s always protective with me, so I’m happy to reciprocate.

His phone rings, and he frowns as he checks it.

“Who’s that?” I ask when I see the look on his face.

“My divorce lawyer.”

“Uh oh.”

He sighs and answers the call. “Hey, Luke. What’s up?”

He’s quiet for a beat and then, “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

His face turns red, and he’s shaking his head over and over.

“Fuck that and fuck her. No, we are not capitulating to shit. Do what you have to do. We’re fighting that—I don’t give a fuck what she says… No, we’re doing this my way. I’ll be in your office first thing tomorrow.” He disconnects and just stares off into the distance.

“What is it?” I ask softly. “What did she do?”

“She wants a restraining order.”

“Against you?” I ask, shocked.

“No.” He turns to me and his face is filled with fury. “Against you.”