Page 92 of Pucked and Pregnant

He walks over to me, then stops very close, too close.

“This is all just a little fairy tale for you, Liv. It won’t have a happy ending, either. Just remember that I warned you when you suffer your inevitable fall from grace.”

I watch him walk toward the press box, my hands clenched into fists. I feel woozy again and close my eyes.

“Not now, baby,” I say to the tiny little life inside my body. “Mommy needs to cement her career for both of us tonight.”

I realize that I’m talking out loud to myself like a crazy person and hustle after Travis to get in position for the puck drop.

I sit down just as the puck is dropped and the game begins. The intern who was stuck listening to our awkward discussion in the green room counts us down until we’re live.

“Good evening,” Travis begins with a big smile on his face. “Tonight, we are going to watch history being made. The Boston Blades have all but clinched their spot to play in the Stanley Cup Finals, but they need to tuck away one more win. Do you think they have it in them, Olivia?”

Travis’ throw to me is so polite that I nearly drop my notes all over the floor. I never know how to handle him when he’s being nice, even if it is in the name of putting on a good face for the media. I know too much about him now to be able to reconcile this charming, good-looking man with the one who has been threatening my career and the men I love for a few weeks now.

I feel sick with annoyance at him, or maybe that’s just the morning sickness talking.

“I know they have it in them,” I reply, glancing down at my notes. I start reeling off stats and figures, pleased that my voice sounds sharp and professional. I can’t stand sounding unprepared, and I work hard to recall the data that I have collected on each player.

Two can play at this impersonal and work-driven game.

We start bantering back and forth about some of the more ridiculous plays that the team has produced in recent years. I feel bad picking on them but it’s part of the job description, even if it’s not specifically named when you apply.

As we are cued for a commercial break, I sag against the wall behind us. We have been standing near one of the VIP sections where there is a great view of the action on the ice behind us. My feet are aching and my head is swimming.

“You’re actually doing great,” Travis observes, as if this should surprise him.

I scowl at him, feeling sweat prickling all over my body. “Thanks, I guess,” I grind out, breathing deeply and contemplating switching back into my flats. If I did that, Travis would be much taller than me. I decide I cannot tolerate him towering over me.

“Back on the air in five… four…”

I force a smile onto my face despite the sweat trickling between my shoulder blades.

“We’re back!” Travis announces. “And just in time for a huge play by The Russian Bear,” he says, glancing behind us briefly as he rattles off the score and a couple of quick stats.

“This really is the dream team,” I add, my smile feeling as shaky as my knees.

I mentally cross my fingers that I can hold up for another hour or so. This is not a day where I can afford to give into my body’s demands.

27

MAX

Iblink sweat out of my eyes. I feel like I’ve been everywhere assisting everyone throughout the game but we are slaying the competition.

“Olivia is killing it,” Aiden says to me during a short break.

I glance over to the far corner of the rink where I can clearly see her, standing next to that asshat, Travis, and talking animatedly. I frown a little when I realize that she’s holding onto the railing behind her.

“I hope she’s not pushing too hard,” I reply, knowing for a fact that she is. She has been for weeks now. But I get it. We’re both ambitious and we both want to meet our own high standards. I understand her need to cover this game for the sake of her career, but I’m still worried about her.

“How did she look this morning when you picked her up?” Connor asks as he skates over to me.

I shrug. “She said she was fine.”

Connor snorts. “Yeah, of course she did. How did she look, though?”

I sigh. “Not great.”

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