Page 110 of Power Play

“I don’t know.” He smiles and clasps my shoulder. “I think there’s a chance this might be the best year yet.”

“You’re way too optimistic,” I grumble.

“Nah. I just see things you don’t.”

TWENTY-NINE

PIPER

I’m soglad to be home.

The plane ride back from Vegas was miserable.

When Lexi and Maven asked what wrong, I put on my headphones, said I didn’t feel well, and pretended to take a nap.

I lied to my friends, all while my wedding ring sat tucked under my shirt, looped around my necklace chain.

I don’t know why I kept it. I’m not delusional enough to think there was any emotion behind the drunken decision to get hitched. It was all alcohol, no heart, and it’s not the start of some epic love story.

It might’ve been a mistake, but I’m considering his offer to stay married.

Liam made good points about his insurance. When I asked Emmy about the coverage she has, she let me know the NHL is generous with the things included in their plans.

I could see all the specialists I needed to.

I could get a prescription for medicine that manages the pain in my head.

I could splurge on services I never let myself indulge in because of how expensive they are.

There are far worse people to be married to than Liam Sullivan, even after his outburst the other morning.

I’ve spent all afternoon on the couch writing out the pros and cons. The list is long, and after hours of debating back and forth, I’ve come to realize it would be silly to not take advantage of the situation we’ve found ourselves in.

A knock on my front door pulls me from my internal debate. I frown and check the time.

It’s too late for the girls to be stopping by. Maven fell asleep hours ago. Emmy is in Calgary for an away game and Lexi is grabbing a drink with some minor league baseball player.

There’s a half second of fear Steven might be on the other side, and relief is a swift current when I check the peephole and find Liam standing there, his hands behind his back.

We didn’t talk on the flight to the East Coast. When we landed in DC, I caught an Uber home before he could bring up what happened a few nights ago.

I’m still so mad at him.

I’m mad at what he said.

I’m mad at his reaction.

I’m mad because I couldn’t hate him if I tried.

Heaving a deep breath, I open the door and stare at my husband.

“Hey.” He lifts his chin and rakes his eyes over me. They linger on the shorts I slipped on after my twenty-minute shower, and a muscle in his jaw works. “Can I come in?”

“Are you going to blame me for forcing you into a marriage again?”

Liam blows out a heavy sigh and shakes his head. “No.”

My fingers wrap around the door frame, and it’s my turn to look at him.

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