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“We had a deal.” Her arms cross, and one finger starts tapping. “No real names, no real details. So—”
“So, we wouldn’t know how to find each other. Yeah, about that…”
She holds up a finger, looking around her room like she’s hoping to find a bit of calm somewhere. But no.
“Well, you’re in Chicago, so I guess that wasn’t a lie either?”
And then she’s rounding the bed, advancing on me until I can practically feel the heat of her temper blistering my skin. “And the pro-hockey player thing?”
Guilty. “Yes.”
Her hand goes to her heart, and she takes a step back, wounded eyes meeting mine. “Wasanythingyou told me a lie? Or was all of it true?”
“I’m sorry.”
She gasps, betrayal weighing her shoulders down.
“Ja— Stormy, I wanted you to be able to find me if you needed to.” Without having to jump through whatever hoops I’d been prepared to jump through this weekend to find her.
“I thought you picked being a pro-hockey player because my ex hated sports. Ilovedthat.”
Rationally, I’m aware that feeling guilty about this doesn’t make sense. But even if I don’t really know this woman, there’s a reason we got into this mess together. I liked her. A lot.
So, admitting I wasn’t following our half-baked plans any more then than I am now sucks. But it’s time.
“Look, can we sit down and talk for a minute?”
She gives me a weak nod toward the front of the apartment, before straightening with a start. Pulling her phone from her coat pocket, she blanches.
“Expecting someone?” I ask evenly, looking around her room for evidence of a guy in her life.
Technically, she’s my wife, but my claim doesn’t extend beyond the legalities that keep her from marrying someone else. But tell that to the crawling tension moving into my shoulders as I scan for a heart-shaped framed photo on her bedside table or a pair of nasty gym shoes in a size and color that don’t fit with the pastel palette of her closet.
I’m a dick.
“My sister.”
So not an only child. And the trip to her parents… close to her family. But then I’d sort of guessed she was, despite her efforts to lie about who she was, to pretend for a single weekend she was someone else.
“We share this apartment and… Misty is great, but she definitely has a little sister’s sense of entitlement when it comes to my business, and I’d really rather not have to explain you to her.”
“Fair enough.” But now that she’s mentioned her sister and not wanting to explain, I’m reminded of the six-foot-one, two-hundred-ten pounds of pissed-off hockey player outside. “There a coffee shop or something around here?”
She looks hesitant, so I clarify. “I can drop my buddy there while we find somewhere more private to talk.”
“Right, there was a guy in your car.”
His car actually, but that’s another story. “Yep.”
After a beat, she shakes her head. “I can’t do this right now. No one knows what happened, and I need to keep it that way.”
“I get it. I barged back into your life on Christmas Eve, no notice, no warning, demanding you work out my issues with the plan we agreed to a year ago.” Taking a breath, I step back. “This wasn’t fair. I saw you and just… couldn’t let the chance pass.”
There’s understanding in those pale blue eyes. Concern too. But no sign of the sadness that wrecked me from that first night.
“It’s a complicated situation,” she says. “I’m not exactly sure what the etiquette is.”
“Probably involves some arcane ritual like the exchange of numbers. Me getting in touch after the holiday.”
