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“I swear I’ll never tell a soul. That’s the one thing I can at least do right by you.”
He sounds bitter and angry at himself, which isn’t what I wanted. I glance at him.
“Hey. I took you there because you trust me. And because I trust you. I wasn’t trying to play gotcha and prove anything.”
“I know that. I just…” He shifts in his seat. “I thought I’d be the one putting up with your shit when we made this deal. But I’m the asshole.”
“We’ve had some misunderstandings, but everything is out in the open now.”
“Yeah.” He looks at me and I have to force myself to keep my eyes on the road instead of him. “You’re a great person, Mila. I misjudged you before.”
“You can make it up to me in bed,” I say lightly.
He doesn’t respond, sending alarm bells off in my head. This is supposed to be the part where we can’t keep our hands off each other because we just made up.
Colby’s in his own world, though. We ride in silence the rest of the way back to the arena, a sense of dread sinking into my chest and taking hold.
A few hours later, I’m in my box at the arena, trying to get lost in the action of the game. There’s no score with two minutes left in the first period. Colby, Beau, and Ford are poetry in motion, passing perfectly, but Nashville’s defense came to play. We can’t even get a puck in the same zip code the net’s in.
“Hi, Mila.”
I look up and see Elle Lawrence, Ford’s girlfriend, sitting down next to me.
“I have no comment on my marriage, rumors about my marriage, or literally anything else,” I say sharply. “Go try to ruin someone else’s life.”
She sighs softly. “I’m off duty tonight. Just here as Ford’s girlfriend. I was wondering if you and Colby would like to come to Tahoe with me, Ford, Beau, and Shelby.”
“There’s a lake there, right? Are you planning to drown me?”
She laughs. “Enough of the animosity between us. I want to be your friend.”
When she was writing columns for the Denver Chronicle about her opposition to the new arena, I considered her an enemy. Even after the arena was approved, I disliked her smugness.
But she is Ford’s girlfriend, and Ford and Colby are close.
“When?” I ask.
“In about six weeks. I can send you the dates if you want to check your schedule.”
“Sure.”
“Great. I hope you guys can make it.”
I swallow my pride, remembering that the new Mila isn’t catty and vindictive. Or at least, not as catty and vindictive as the old Mila.
“Thanks for the invite.”
I expect her to get up and leave, but she stays, jumping up with me to cheer when Ben scores a goal. She has a perfect opportunity to exit, but instead she sits back down.
“You know, sources are saying that our governor is in some hot water.”
I turn sharply, eager to hear more. “What do you mean?”
“Apparently he’s been using his influence to gain political favors. Not that anyone’s surprised, but he was secretly recorded in a damning phone call that will be made public soon.”
My heart nearly stops. A recorded phone call. If it gets out that I was about to be deported, my marriage to Colby will be under a fresh round of scrutiny.
And the way things are going now, I don’t know that we can survive another round.
“Is it about me?” I ask.
Her eyes widen. “No, absolutely not. I’m sorry if I alarmed you. It has nothing to do with you. I mentioned it because I know he did everything he could to block the new arena. I thought you’d be interested to know.”
“I am.” I relax and start breathing again. “I definitely am. Thanks for telling me.”
We return to watching the game, Nashville tying it up right before the end of the first period. Elle goes to the bathroom and I stand up to stretch my legs, wishing for a glass of the wine I had at Quentin and Jacob’s house the other night.
Peter, who doesn’t attend most games, comes running into the box, panting. He tugs on the collar of his shirt and then loosens his tie.
“My God, it’s a long walk from the office to here,” he says, putting his hands on his knees.
I get a bottle of water from the mini fridge and hand it to him. “What are you still doing working this late?”
He stands back up, opens the water, and takes a sip. “I did it.”
“Did what?”
He looks over both of his shoulders. “The problem is solved.”
“Can you be more specific?”
His eyes bulge with annoyance. “Your governor worries are over.”
I gasp, shocked one of his political connections came through. This means I don’t have to worry about being deported anymore.
“You’re a genius,” I say, making a note to give him a large bonus for this. “How much?”
