Page 123 of The Blame Game

Some time after that, Nico had introduced Skylar to Julius.

It seemed strange to Dom but what the hell did he know?

He was an aging hockey player who hadn’t had a serious romantic relationship in years. He was involved with an escort and on a date with another escort.

He really had no room to talk about anyone else’s personal life.

“So, do you and your family attend this event every year?” he asked Skylar.

Her expression turned disdainful. “Oh, I’m not here on their behalf. I’m attending as Skylar Manning, not Skylar Hanley. My parents and I no longer speak.”

“That sounds … complicated,” he said politely.

Although he knew something about that himself. He felt a little sliver of pain in his chest when he thought about the last time he’d seen either of his parents.

Christ, he’d thought his mother would want to know Dom had caught his father cheating. With a man.

But apparently not. He’d learned that one the hard way when she’d pretty much disappeared from his life after the divorce.

Last he knew, she was married to some rich French winemaking dude and living in a moldy, crumbling chateau somewhere in Burgundy.

Or was it a castle? Was there a difference?

Dom knew very little about his French heritage.

He’d learned French growing up—his mother and his nanny had both spoken it—but was horribly rusty now. He hadn’t had much opportunity to practice it since Theriault left the team and although they could understand each other well enough, Parisian French and Quebecois were rather different things.

“It is complicated,” Skylar agreed. “But good riddance as far as I’m concerned. They spent my whole life using my future inheritance as leverage to get me to behave. And after I had Nicky, after Jules and I got married, I just couldn’t deal with all of the bullshit. I didn’t fucking want their blood money. So I told them to fuck off. And I’m much happier now.”

Dom smiled, not at her words so much, but at the tiny, sweet-looking blonde swearing like a sailor.

Although he was glad she was happier. “It sounds like it worked out for the best then.”

“Yeah, I mean everyone thinks I’m nuts turning down billions in inheritance but what the fuck am I going to do with it?” she asked, taking a sip of her water. “I don’t think any one single human—or family—needs that kind of money.”

“Probably not,” Dom agreed. “What do you do for a living?”

They talked a little bit about her work as an environmental protection influencer—who knew that was a thing?—and Julius’ work at a non-profit in the same field.

When the waitstaff came to clear their entrée plates and bring out dessert, Audra leaned in, speaking very softly in his ear. “First of all, I need to get Skylar’s phone number because she sounds like a fascinating person to get to know. And second, you need to look a little bit more interested in me if you want this to be believable.”

Dom chuckled. “Sorry, didn’t mean to neglect you.” He slipped an arm around her, resting it on the back of the chair. She leaned in, giving him a soft smile.

It felt all wrong.

Audra was lovely and funny but if Dom had ever doubted how fucking gay he was, tonight had more than proven it.

It was still baffling to Dom that Shea had only been into women when he’d started working as an escort. And that, apparently, he’d only had sex with a few men by the time Dom had begun seeing him.

It had bothered him at first, made him wonder if he’d forced Shea somehow. Coerced him.

But Shea had said himself that things had changed for him over the years and just because there had never been any ambiguity to who Dom was attracted to, didn’t mean that it wasn’t true for Shea.

Audra discreetly elbowed him in the ribs. “Now you’re making it weird,” she muttered against the rim of her glass.

He laughed and shifted away, reaching for his drink. What did he know about how to act? He’d never interacted with someone he loved in public. He had no idea how to fake it.

As they ate their desserts, Dom made an effort to talk to the other people at the table, asking more about their jobs and chatting about the team’s chances this year.

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