Game Changer by Kelly Jamieson Page 0,74

this event to be a good thing in my life.

I don’t know what my future will be, but I know I’ll be okay. Even if I am really sad that spending so much time with an amazing man and coming to care for him all happened with the wrong guy at the wrong time. If only Jax didn’t play hockey with Steve. If only I hadn’t just jilted my fiancé. Because I’ve come to realize that Jax was my rebound. Brielle was right—the first guy I care about after my engagement ended is not going to be my next long-term relationship. It just doesn’t work like that.

I walk into the Good Egg, a little diner not too far from my apartment in Andersonville. They serve breakfast and lunch.

Steve is already there, seated in a booth along the wall.

Regret settles in my stomach like a lump. This is all so sad.

I make my way over. It’s awkward. He stands. Neither of us know whether to shake hands or hug or punch each other. So I slide into the booth opposite him without doing any of those.

“You look great,” Steve says, taking his seat again. “All tanned and relaxed.”

“You sound surprised. Did you think I was pining away for you?”

His face flushes. “No.”

I sigh. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Neither do I.” He picks up his mug of coffee. “This is fucking weird.”

“I know.”

A waitress arrives with a pot of coffee. I nod and she fills my cup then asks if we’re ready to order. I glance quickly at the menu. I’ve been here before, and I love their eggs bennie—the one with smoked salmon and avocado. So I order that. Steve gets a chicken Santa Fe wrap.

I pull the small box out of my purse and push it across the table to him. “Here’s your ring back.”

He stares at it. “I don’t want it back.”

“Take it. You paid for it.”

He shakes his head and the box sits untouched between us.

“I don’t want it, Steve,” I say quietly. “I don’t even want the money I could get if I sold it. I know there are some wedding things you can’t get your money back on and I can’t afford to pay you back for all of them, but you can use that to pay for some.”

He sighs and pockets it.

“Katelyn says all the wedding gifts were returned.”

“I guess.”

He doesn’t even care.

I curl my hands around my coffee cup and meet his eyes. “Why? Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know.” He shoves a hand into his blond hair and looks away. “I really don’t know.”

“The things you said about me…to that woman…that really hurt.”

“I’m sorry.” He meets my eyes, and I see genuine remorse there.

I swallow. “Well, thanks for that.” I pause. “Was she the only woman you cheated on me with?” I watch his response.

“Yes.”

“Really? Because Brielle said you came onto her once.”

His eyes widen. “What? I did not.”

I tilt my head. Hold his gaze. Say nothing.

“I might have flirted a little,” he says. “But it didn’t mean anything.”

I nod sadly. “And Claire? Who is she? Are you still together?”

His lips tighten and his throat works. “Yeah.”

I nod again. I guess I’m not surprised. It hurts. But not as much as I might have thought. “What were you thinking?” I shake my head. “We were getting married. What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking, okay?” He rolls his eyes. “I don’t know. I guess I was freaking out about getting married or something.”

“Oh my God.” I pull in a long breath through my nose. “Do you love her?”

He lifts one shoulder. “I don’t know.”

Poor Claire.

“Did you take her to Europe?”

“Wait. Where the hell were you all summer? Where did you disappear to?”

“That’s not an answer.” Damn deflection. Nice try, though.

“Fine, yeah, I did. Why not? You were gone and clearly didn’t want to go. I paid for the trip.”

It makes me so, so sad that I wanted to marry this man. He’s not a bad man…okay, cheating isn’t exactly honorable, but he’s not mean or abusive. But he’s not…

He’s not Jax.

I bow my head briefly.

“Was it her who sent me those screen shots?” I ask. “I’ve been wondering.”

He shifts in his chair. “I asked her and she said it wasn’t.”

“Who else could it have been?”

“I don’t know.” He looks away. “I changed the password on my phone.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “If she did that…” I stop. “Whatever. It’s your problem.”

“So where were you hiding out?” he asks, changing the subject.

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