Page 8 of One Wealthy Wedding

“I know lots of women.” Where the hell is Christine going with this?

“I know you know lots of women,” she says. “But are you sure you don’t have a girlfriend waiting in the wings somewhere? A secret wife? A tragic love story I can use? She broke your heart, and you’ve been trying to get over her? Give me something, Theo.”

“No one,” I say hoarsely. “You know that’s not who I am.”

“This won’t be easy for me to smooth over without a distraction. Or proof you’ve changed.”

“I’ll think of something.” I drag a palm over my face. “Are the articles worse than usual? I only saw the one.”

“There’s a lot of speculation out there about whether drugs were involved. Prostitutes. I know you’d never be involved with that, but these gossip sites take the smallest thing and run with it. A girlfriend really would help.” She blows a breath into the phone. “Let me strategize for a bit. If you find a willing woman to date, give me a call. The more sterling her reputation, the better. And Theo? It’s not a bad idea to consider cleaning up your act. Just a little bit.”

She’s right. I know she’s right. This moment has been coming for a while, like a freight train in slow motion, and I’m stuck on the tracks.

We hang up, and I text the one person who will definitely tell me to get my life together.

“Cat Peterson. You saw little Cat Peterson bartending.” My brother, Cole, skates to a stop, not even breathing hard. My legs are fucking killing me after just twenty minutes on the ice. “What the hell?”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“How was she? I haven’t seen her in years.”

Eight years. I haven’t seen her in eight years. Nearly nine. She’s still the hottest woman I’ve ever seen.

Still mysterious.

Still entrancing.

Still a spoiled brat.

“Dunno. The same,” I say. “Not happy to see me. I can tell you that much.”

Cole swivels and skates backward so he can watch me. “Why not? You were friends.”

“Not really.” We were close, Cat and I, until I started to realize how wide the gulf was between us and the truth of how her parents treated my mother.

“You always liked her, though,” he persists.

“I did not.” I pass him the puck.

“You so did. She used to trail you around the property.” He snorts a laugh and shakes his head.

“She did,” I admit. “She was a pain in the ass. Always asking what I was doing but way too much of a good girl to participate.”

“Ah, a good girl. Is that why you guys stopped being friends?”

“Something like that.”

“So it’s your fault, then?”

“You weren’t even there to see it,” I say.

“Don’t be a dick.” He passes me the puck in one smooth motion.

“Sorry.” I blow out a breath as I skate up the ice. “I’m on edge today.” I shouldn’t be lashing out at my big brother. It’s not his fault he was a hockey prodigy starting in middle school. His life looked a lot closer to Cat’s than mine.

“So what was she doing there?”

“Said she needed the money. Honestly, it’s pretty hazy.” I stop skating and close one eye, like it will help me remember. “And maybe something about being disinherited? But that can’t be right.” I shrug. “I figure she’s rebelling against her parents again.”

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