Page 6

Stevie

I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing by being honest with Marty, but it seems like he wants the truth, so I’ll give it to him. I can only give him my perspective, of course, because I don’t know his wife and I certainly can’t speak for all women. But I can see both sides.

“I don’t know what she did before you met,” I say thoughtfully, “for a career, I mean, but?—”

“She didn’t have a career,” he interjects. “We met when I was playing in the minors and she was in college. She left college so we could get married when I got called up. And that was her choice. I not only offered to let her stay and finish, but I was willing to pay for it, so it wouldn’t be a burden on her parents. But she wanted to come with me.”

“Then that’s on her,” I reply. “If it had been me, I would have stayed and—you wanted honesty here—taken full advantage of you paying for me to not only stay in school but also I’m assuming pay my living expenses.”

“Of course.”

“That’s not your fault.” She shrugs. “But she’s not the first woman to do something stupid because of love. I’m the queen of that, so I’m not judging anyone. As for the rest of it, I don’t know what your relationship was like, but I’m going to guess that after an initial conversation that went something like, ‘hey, do you want kids? Yeah? How many? Three? Four? I love you so much, baby, we’re going to make beautiful babies.’ After that, you just did your thing and continued making babies and playing hockey. Did you ever check in again? Like, ‘hey, how does it feel now that there are two of them running around… does it seem like three will be too much?’ Something like that?”

He looks frustrated. “No. I guess I never did.”

“So that’s on you. But, I will add, she’s a grown-ass woman in a relationship with a man she supposedly loved—why didn’t she come to you? You’re both responsible for the lack of communication.”

“But why?” he asks. “Why didn’t she talk to me? We were both busy, and I was very hands-on when I was home and?—”

“That means you were distracted by the kids and not focused on her.”

He pauses. “Yeah, to an extent, but she was never an afterthought. I always sent flowers, planned date nights, stuff like that. Invited her to meet me on road trips when we were in fun places like New York.”

“What I’m hearing is that she changed,” I say gently. “That what she wanted at twenty wasn’t the same as what she wanted at thirty. And for whatever reason, she didn’t feel like she could tell you.”

“So she cheated with my teammate?” he asks, his face darkening.

“I’m not condoning what she did,” I say, putting my hand on his forearm. “I’m just explaining it as an outsider looking in.”

“Three kids,” he mutters. “We’re fucking up the lives of three innocent babies because she changed her mind. She could have gone back to school to finish her degree. She could have gotten a job or started a side hustle. Lots of the wives do. Yeah, it would make things complicated, but not impossible. And I would have supported her.”

“Were you talking about baby number four?”

He stiffens a little—I feel it.

“Yeah,” he finally admits. “Because four kids was the plan, maybe even five. That’s what I always wanted, and I was honest about that. She never said anything about changing her mind and I’m not a mind reader.”

“You’re not.” I don’t say anything else, letting him mull it over.

I think he’s a little mad about what I’ve said, but he asked me to shoot straight with him.

“So you think this was my fault,” he says gruffly.

“No. I think you grew apart. You got together young and by the time you reached your thirties, you became different people. How old are you?”

“Thirty-two.”

“And her?”

“Thirty.”

“So three kids by, what, twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re out there living your best life playing hockey while she’s home trying to figure out who she is and what’s left for her.”

“What’s left?” He looks so confused, I figure I need to backpedal a little.

“Look, there’s no excuse for cheating. None. If she was unhappy, she should have left. Cheating with your teammate shows that she’s kind of a bitch. Unless there was abuse or something involved, which I don’t believe, she made choices. She chose to leave college, she chose to have three babies that close together, and she chose to be a stay-at-home mom. She even chose to marry a professional hockey player. Those are all her choices.”

“What about mine?” he asks quietly.

“You chose her. But you also chose to prioritize hockey and your children.”

He sucks in a breath so sharp it’s almost like I hit him. “Is that…” He breaks off, his eyes searching mine. “Is that what I did? Put hockey and the kids before her?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “That’s what it sounds like. It wasn’t intentional, but I think that’s what happened. And instead of talking to you, or articulating what she was feeling, she chose to find solace with another man.”

“Fuck.” He looks heartbroken, almost beaten down, and I hate that.

“I’m sorry,” I say contritely. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“No.” He looks away. “I needed to hear it. I had a therapist try to tell me something like that, but I changed therapists, found someone who made me feel better. But I guess that’s not working.”

“I’ve been in therapy for eight months,” I say. “And we’ve had really hard conversations about my role in what happened to me. Not listening when literally everyone I knew warned me. Not leaving when I had the chance, because I was too busy fantasizing about my Paris wedding. Not making sure I was protected against pregnancy. So many bad choices I made in the name of love...”

“And what does your therapist tell you to do?”

“I’m working on not hating myself anymore,” I whisper, dropping my gaze. “Not berating myself for being stupid.”

“You’re not responsible for a man hurting you.”

“I could have—should have—gotten out long before it came to that. He was always condescending and emotionally abusive. Then he became verbally abusive. In the end, he was physically abusive but it was too late. I was trying to leave him when he… threw me over the railing.” I swallow. I don’t talk about this outside of therapy anymore. It still hurts too much, but it’s the least I can do after being so brutally honest with Marty about his life.

“He walked in while you were packing?” he asks softly.

“We were literally coming out of the bedroom with my suitcases. He lost his mind when he realized I was leaving him. We argued and… he pushed me over the railing.” I stop, swallowing hard as I blink away tears. “Ivan got there just before it happened, he protected Chey first, because she was trying to help me. But the moment he moved Chey out of the way, I went over the railing. I don’t remember anything after that, until I woke up in the hospital.”

“God, I’m sorry, Stevie.” He slides an arm around my waist, pulling me against his side.

“It’s okay.”

It’s not, but what else can I say? I’ve been battling these demons—and memories—for eight months now. Sometimes it feels like I take one step forward and two steps back, but I’m still here. Still fighting for my future even though I have no idea what that looks like anymore.

“Things got a little dark,” he says after a moment. “I guess you’re going to say no if I ask you out again?”

I pause, looking up at him curiously. “Are you? Asking me to go out with you again?”

“I am.” He looks a little surprised, like he wasn’t planning to. “The truth is, I like you, Stevie. You’re easy to talk to. You’re honest with me, which is refreshing even though it can be a little painful. And you don’t complain about my dancing, which is huge.”

I like him too.

Maybe a little too much.

“Just as friends,” I say quickly. “Because that’s all it can be right now.”

“Believe me, I’m not even divorced. Friendship is all I can manage.”

“Then I’d like that,” I say. “Just, you know, no more weddings for a while. Please.”

He chuckles. “Deal. How about a group date to the carnival? Connor mentioned it and I was going to take the kids, but now I’m thinking a grown-up date might be more fun. Connor and Effie, and Canyon and Saylor. Everyone else is out of town, except Gabe and Harper, but Harper said she’s too pregnant to be outside in this heat for any extended period of time.”

“Oh, a carnival sounds fun!” I say. “When?”

“Thursday? I have to doublecheck with Connor.”

“I don’t have a lot going on right now, so I think it’ll be fine. I’ll check with Saylor about our schedule at the gallery, but it shouldn’t be a problem to close early.” I help Saylor at her art gallery but she’s been teaching art classes so our schedule is flexible.

“I haven’t been to a carnival in forever,” he says. “Though I do feel a little guilty about not taking the kids.”

“We could take the kids,” I say slowly. That would be so much safer than us being alone together. “I think it would be a lot for you to take them on your own, but what if we took them together? I could help wrangle them and we could still have fun.”

He squints. “Seriously? You’d do that?”

“Sure. You think the others would mind?”

“I doubt it. Connor’s pretty much a big kid, and then Canyon and Saylor could bring Ally. She’s almost old enough to babysit, so I left the older two with her last week when I had to take the baby to the doctor. I was only gone an hour and Saylor was on standby just in case, but it worked out well. She loved it and the kids think she’s great.”

“Then it’s… a date.”

“It’s a date.”