“No, kiddo. I’m not sad. I’m happy.”
His face scrunches up, the cogs clearly turning in his brain.
“Sometimes happiness looks a bit like sadness.” It’s hard to explain to a nearly-three-year-old what I’m feeling, but I’ve gotta try. “I’m glad I found your mom, that’s all. She’s special.”
He nods and turns his attention back to his depleting pile of bacon, as though my explanation was enough.
The stares of Victoria and her mom linger on my face. Should I look up at them? Or give them space? I don’t want them to think I’m putting this on for the sake of a performance, but if I avoid their looks will they know I’m genuine?
Overthinking isn’t my strong suit, and my head’s starting to hurt. I cram another mouthful of food into my face before daring to look up.
Piercing jade eyes meet mine across the table. Emotion wells in Victoria’s eyes with unshed tears. The urge to hold her is almost overpowering. I hate that I made her cry, even once,let alone the number of times she probably cried herself to sleep in the years we were apart.
I never want to upset her again. But every time I step out onto the ice, she’s going to be worried.
It’s a situation I never could have imagined, and one I have no idea how to solve.
CHAPTER 27
Victoria
Watching the father of my child interact with his son is the most precious thing I’ve ever seen. Mom squeezed my hand when Raffi had his moment a couple days ago over brunch. He’s been busy with practice, the gym, and hockey since then, but he’s kept in touch via video chat and text messages.
He’s the most romantic person I’ve ever known. Like something straight out of a romance novel. And he’s constantly exhausted. He woke Wyatt up the other night with his snoring, and it was through the speaker of my phone.
As I step into the rink, my stomach churns. Not sure how Apollo de la Peña found out I have some basic photography skills, but here we are. My sneaking suspicion is that my—crap on a stick, Raffi is my boyfriend—might have suggested the team should get some new headshots taken, but he denies it. They all do.
The smell of sweat seems to be stitched into the fabric of this place. There’s a general funk. I’m sure it’s cleaned regularly, but there’s just a lingering odor that seems like it’s part of the building.
“Tori.” Apollo holds out his hand. He’s fully kitted out and ready for practice. We decided to have them all freshly showered and wearing their uniforms but not post-game sweaty messes.
Getting set up takes a few minutes, and by the time I’m done, there’s a line of hockey players all standing ready for their moment. Apollo goes first, but that feels like cheating. Even my toddler with a flip phone could take a good picture of the de la Peñas. There’s no bad angle when it comes to that family.
Artemis and Ares go next—with their striking jaw lines and dark hair, the family resemblance is undeniable. How are so many players on this team so good looking? The ratio is off. Does that mean there’s a team out there that’s just full of ugly dudes? Because these guys…they’re hot as hell.
“Hey, Firecracker.” Raffi strides toward me. He grabs me in a hug, smelling of whatever that musky cologne he wears is, and it makes me want to chuck my panties at him.
“Hey, yourself, hotshot.”
“It’s taking all my strength not to kiss you right now.”
I shake my head then get a couple shots of his grinning face. “I’m working.” I point my camera at Apollo. “Your friend and captain over there is paying me an extortionate amount of money to take pictures of all his friends. No kissing allowed.”
Raffi makes duck lips, so obviously I snap another picture. “Was that negotiated in the contract? No kissing the subjects of your photography?”
Despite knowing he lives for my eye rolls, I can’t help myself. He can be an idiot sometimes.
“If I say yes will you move out of the way so I can take Scott’s picture?”
“Maybe.”
“You know you already have headshots, right?” Theirexisting headshots aren’t bad. Some of them have a black eye or missing tooth, but from what I understand, that’s just the nature of the game.
And it’s not even the external injuries we need to be worried about.
Apollo shrugs. “We wanted to go in a different direction.”
Uh-huh. I bet that direction started with Raffi fucking Shaw asking his friend for a favor for the mother of his child.
