Why lie about that?”
“Well, like I said, she didn’t recognize me, and it wasn’t like I made up a fake one. I just gave her my nickname instead.”
She blinks a few times. “You told her your name was Rookie?”
“No, I told her it was RJ, which is what my dad always called me and what my brother and sister still call me now. So it wasn’t totally a lie. I mean, my name is pretty uncommon. Shit. I handled this all wrong, and now she’s going to look me up and see all the bunny crap.”
“So was it just that you didn’t want her to know you used to let the puck bunnies use you like their personal dildo?”
“No. That wasn’t it. I mean, now it’s obviously going to be an issue, but I just wanted to be normal for a few weeks. And now she knows I lied to her about my job and my name, so I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want anything to do with me. And even if she’s willing to talk to me, once she realizes what else I’ve left out she’ll probably never want to speak to me again.”
This fuckup is on me. I kept putting off telling her the truth, maybe in part because I hoped that if she fell for me the way I fell for her, by the time I finally told her what I really did for a living, it wouldn’t matter.
“Well, that’s a complication, since you’re still obviously hung up on her.”
“Yeah. I have her number, though, so that’s good, right?”
“If she’ll answer your calls, sure,” Alex says.
“And what happens when she finds out about my personal relationship history?”
“You mean that you used to be a manwhore?” Violet asks.
“Yeah. That.”
Violet puts a hand on my shoulder, her expression serious. “If it’s meant to be, she’ll get over it—as long as you didn’t give her some kind of lasting STD as a gift.”
CHAPTER 14
WHAT YOU DON’T KNOW . . .
Lainey
Eden’s disembodied head appears in the doorway of the observation room. She’s the reason I have this job. We grew up homeschooled in the same community, but when she became a teenager she went to a local school and then went on to attend regular college. We still stayed close and even managed to keep in contact when she moved to Chicago a couple of years ago, despite my not being on social media.
When things got a little crazy with my family after I returned from Alaska, Eden suggested I come out for a visit. Since I’d already braved a plane before, I decided I could do it again. Also, my parents were back to smothering me, especially since I came home brokenhearted. My mother never outright said I told you so, but it was implied. Often.
I went for a weeklong visit, fell in love with the aquarium, and a couple of months later returned, this time with a job and an apartment.
“Hey. I figured I’d find you in here.” Eden lets the door close behind her.
“It’s peaceful.” I turn off the tablet clutched in my hands, almost glad for the break from yet another distressing article I’ve stumbled upon.
“Researching again?”
“Something like that. Am I needed up front?” Occasionally I’ll have to work at the information desk. I don’t mind talking to people one-on-one, especially when they’re asking about the animals.
She leans against the door. “I’d stay put for right now.”
“He’s back again, isn’t he?” I fold my hands in my lap to keep from wringing them.
“Yeah. He’s back again.”
It’s been over a week. Nine days, actually. Nine long days since RJ—otherwise known as Rook Bowman, captain for Chicago’s NHL hockey team and apparently quite the notorious playboy, according to the many, many accounts on the World Wide Web—dropped back into my life.
Since then he’s stopped by the aquarium every single day. He’s also called and texted daily and has taken to sending me rather extravagant gifts. Well, extravagant by my standards, but I’ve also discovered that his salary is a staggering eleven and a half million dollars a year, so the hundreds he’s likely spending on ostentatious flower arrangements and gift baskets is similar to tossing a handful of dollar bills into the air and watching them fall like snow into a pit of lava—or the mouth of a shark.
“He seems really . . . apologetic,” Eden offers.
I give her a hard look. “Not you too.”
She crosses over to sit beside me on the bench. The seals swim by, unaffected