find our rhythm and our skates. Our passes were sloppy and we moved too damn slow out of the gate when New York came out barrels blazing. They were on fire and after two quick goals in the first period that had Maddox letting loose his helmet and curse words that would make a sailor proud during the first intermission, we got our shit together but we spent the rest of the game playing catch up.
It was an embarrassing two to five loss playing a team that has no hope of making the playoffs.
“You coming to the bar tonight?” Klaus asks, pulling out his phone and tucking his headphones behind his neck.
“Probably. Think we could all use it.”
“No shit. I don’t think I’ve played that bad since I was twelve.”
“I hear you. Tonight was ugly.”
“Coach is going to have our balls in a tight grip this week.”
As gross as the visual is, he’s not wrong. You know you’ve done shitty when Coach stares at you in the locker room post-game and then leaves without saying a word. It’s more powerful than if he’d come in cursing as mad as Maddox.
For me, even with my goal, I have an excuse for playing like crap. Twenty minutes before I took to the ice my lawyer sent me a text.
Papers are signed and filed. Divorce final.
I pull up the text again and re-read it. It’s final. I gave Madison everything she asked for after she declined my one attempt to give her more money. She made it so damn easy and months ago I would have been devastated.
As it is, now, I just feel numb. I’ve joined the ranks of the other forty percent of people who have their first marriages end in divorce. Not exactly a statistic I’m proud of and there’s definitely no textbook for how you’re supposed to feel when the woman you loved forever leaves you but sitting here on the bus, letting it set in…
Maybe it’s possible I’ve already started moving on and accepting it.
My phone buzzes in my palm, making me almost drop it.
And then I grin when I see the name.
Maybe I don’t feel all that upset about my divorce because there’s another woman who makes me smile.
Gigi.
Nice goal tonight, hotshot. Sorry about your loss and that shitty penalty call.
I was sent to the sin bin for hooking and it didn’t even freaking happen. She’s not wrong at all and before I got off the bus and stepped foot into the hotel, it was the thing I was most upset about today. The stupid power play because I was off the ice allowed New York to score the goal that put them in the lead after we’d skated our asses off to tie it up in the second.
I don’t want to talk about the game anymore. I’ll get enough of that tomorrow when we’re watching film.
Instead, I grin at that stupid nickname she insists on calling me, and type back,
Can’t win them all, even when you’re the best. Like me.
“What’s got you happy?” Klaus asks. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile like this in weeks.”
Yeah. Something tells me I’m moving on. The only question is am I moving on to someone else? Or just acceptance?
“Gigi texted,” I tell him and press my lips together as his eyes widen.
I’ve kept my friendship with her relatively quiet. We haven’t been to the bar a whole lot but we’ve gone and when we’re there, she treats me like every other player so I assume she’s been taking her cues from me.
There’s no longer the awkwardness about our last walk or what I confessed and I haven’t done anything about it because I’m still confused.
And because I’m married… or was. But I’m not anymore, am I?
“Gigi the bartender?”
“Yeah. We’ve become… friends, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“What?” I shoot him a look. “I can’t have friends?”
“Friends that are that fiery and sexy? I wouldn’t keep her just as a friend if it were me.”
The idea of Klaus, or any other man calling Gigi sexy or thinking of her that way has me gritting my teeth before I can stop it.
Klaus laughs, slaps my leg. “Yeah. Friends, my ass.”
Hell. If he’s going there, I know one way to get him to shut up. “Friends,” I repeat. “Like you and Jillian.”
She works for a marketing company that produces all of our gear for signings. They met at least two years ago and became fast friends. He was dating someone, she was engaged, but they