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“Jordana? I’m so sorry! Oh my God, I never should have risked our friendship.” I roll my eyes.
“Stop talking.”
Her whining voice trails off. “Are you still mad at me?”
“Veronica, I’m going to marry Bryan. We’re getting back together. And this time, you’re not going to interfere.”
“I th-thought you were marrying his best man? Th-that hockey guy?”
“Bryan has made it clear he still loves me, and we’ve decided to make it work.”
“Oh.”
I sigh. “So here’s what you’re going to do. While I’m ending things with Camden tonight, you’re going to invite Bryan over to your house for dinner and tell him you’re done sleeping together. This ismymarriage and this affair you two have is over. Got it?”
“Mm-hm,” she mumbles between sobs. Her remorse sounds genuine.
“Because if you don’t, I will make your life beyond miserable. Do not misunderstand me. You aredonebeing a homewrecker.”
“Okay, okay. Jordana, I’m really sorry. Truly... Do you think we could ever go back to the way things were?Would you like to go out for coffee sometime? We could talk about your wedding plans. I still value our friendship.”
“Maybe someday. But I’m not ready yet.”
“Sure . . . I understand.” Her voice is soft.
“Thank you.”
I hang up and wring my hands. This needs to work. Bryan better be ready to have his whole world flipped upside down.
Don’t fuck with the queen.
50
Iswing by Uncommon Grounds to pick up a couple coffees—and an apple scone for my girl. It’s only been a week since we dropped the L-word. The guys gave me shit at practice today, but damn, I love being in love! And it’s Jordan. How I landed a showstopper like her is beyond me. She’s the entire package. She deserves the world, so I’ll work every day to deserve her.
When I arrive at home, I step inside with my hockey bag over my shoulder, a coffee in each hand, and a bakery bag wedged somewhere in there.
“Jordan, where ya at?” Silence. “Brought you an apple scone!”
Still nothing. The car she’s using is here.Where is she?
I hear footsteps, and she walks down the stairs, talking to someone on the phone. “Maybe someday. But I’m not ready yet...Thank you.”
Cocking my head to the side, I furrow my brow. She ends the call and stuffs it in her pocket. She runs her fingers through her hair, it’s already up in a ponytail, which makes it more messy.
“You okay? Who was that?” I ask, tossing my bag in the laundry room.
“I’m not okay,” she mutters.
Grinning, I enter the kitchen and hold up the bakery bag. “Would a scone help?” She doesn’t smile back, and it’s then I notice how disheveled she is. Not in her usual cute way either, in a stressed-the-fuck-out way.
I drop the bag. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“I need to show you something.” She hurries to the dining room table and returns with her laptop, spinning the screen to face me.
Biting her thumbnail, her gaze is fixed on the floor as she paces.What the hell?
I squint to read the document she has pulled up. It’s paperwork showing the funding being secured to move ahead with ownership of the Lakes. From B. Davenport Jr.There’s no way.
