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“Isn’t it also good for your blood pressure?” I tease.
She grins then shakes her head, ponytail swinging exactly like Roxie’s had a few hours ago as we’d made pizzas. “You’re a bad influence, Stefan Barie.”
“I happen to think I’m a very good influence,” I say as we walk into the family room, extending a hand, showing her the wine glass I already knew she’d accept sitting on the coffee table.
“The best,” she agrees, moving forward, snatching it up, and drinking greedily.
I chuckle, pick up my own beer.
But then she lowers her glass, shoulders slumping.
“What is it?” I ask softly.
“What the fuck are we doing?”
Her tone is so forlorn that I still, guilt jabbing. “What do you mean?” I rasp.
She sighs, sets the glass on the table. “I mean, you’re here. With Rox. Making us all pizzas. Watching dumb kids’ TV shows. Staying while I get her in bed.”
It’s like I’m suddenly in a room filled with dangerous animals—rattlesnakes and grizzlies and black widows, all just waiting to attack. “So?”
“So, we’re divorced?—”
“Not technically.”
Her eyes flash. “You served me with papers. We’re hammering out joint property and custody.”
“I told my attorney to give you anything you wanted.”
She jerks slightly then shakes her head. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about. You hated me?—”
I move toward her, cupping her face in my hands. “I never could hate you, baby.”
Lids sliding closed, but not before I see the disbelief, the hurt, the sadness in those chocolate-brown depths. “It sure seemed like you did.”
Because it was a convenient fucking excuse.
Because…there wasanger there and resentment.
“I was ready to start our life together,” I admit. “I want to have more kids. I want to travel and have a life that doesn’t revolve around hockey. I want you, but?—”
Her eyes open. “I’m not ready to let it go.”
That…well, it fucking hurts.
That hockey is more of a priority to her than our life together after it.
But I know it’s not fair.
I wrestled with my own decision about retiring for far longer than Brit has, and my playing didn’t affect our family planning. It’s not that I don’t love Roxie, don’t love the work we do to help kids in need.
But…I want more.
I want a little girl who looks like Brit.
I want a boy with my eyes.
I want Rox to have siblings.
