Page 32 of Broken Promises

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declan

“It’s a Sunday night game,”Diego says.

“Are you talking to yourself?” I ask him, unsure why he’s telling me that the game we’re playing against New York tonight is on a Sunday. Like I don’t know what day it is or that I get to see Willa tonight.

“It means you’re competing with Sunday Night Football.”

“So? What do you want me to do about it? Land a perfect triple axel in the middle of a breakaway?”

Ben snickers from where he’s sitting on his bed and pretending not to listen. Diego is leaning against the hotel desk and glaring at me. He’s the one speaking in riddles, so I don’t know how I’m the one to be mad at right now.

“Your coach has been holding everyone back. Insisting you need time to figure it out,” Diego says, pulling at his usually perfectly styled hair. “So they’re on my ass instead. I’m getting calls and emails from the team’s PR and social media departments. Hell, I even got an email from one of the owners this morning.”

“Why is everyone so interested in my wife? None of the other guys have to parade their wives around for the media.” As far as I can tell, no one knows I’m married. People are just speculatingabout who the woman was at the San Diego game. Even then, that’s died down because Willa hasn’t been to a game since that one.

“The media know who their wives are. They never kept them a secret. You two wanting privacy has inadvertently caused a clusterfuck for your team,” Diego says and Ben snorts.

“Dude, what do I do?” I ask Ben.

“Make the Bruisers’ media team earn their money.”

I laugh and point at Ben while staring at Diego. “I like that answer.”

Diego lets out a frustrated sigh. “Don’t you want people to know who you’re married to? She’s. . .her,” he says, his eyes doing the far-off thing it does whenever he gets all starstruck about Willa.

“I really hate when you get weird like that. She’s my wife. Not yours.”

“And yet, no one knows that.”

“Can we circle back to this after the holidays? I haven’t slept in the same bed as my wife in seven fucking weeks, Diego. I refuse to have the first thing I say to her be about strangers wanting a look into our lives. It’s honestly frustrating that I even have to have this conversation.”

“I agree with that,” Ben adds. “Privacy isn’t a crime.”

“Thank you.” I gesture to Ben with aseemotion.

“Declan not keeping his private life private was the problem in the first place,” Ben adds.

“Hey!” I complain.

“Speaking of that,” Diego says. “Bethany was at the San Diego game.”

“So?”

“Rumor is she wasn’t happy about your actions and cried to daddy. I guess she thought you two would have some romantic reunion.”

I groan into my hands.

“Coming forward as a married man with happy pictures of you and your wife would be the easiest way to get her to back off.”

“I hate you,” I mutter to my dick.

“I’ll do a photoshoot for you once you figure it out,” Ben offers.

“Thanks, Benny boy.”

“So you’ll go public?” Diego asks, his face annoyingly hopeful.

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