Page 21 of Pucking the Team
She grimaced. “Yeah, that ain’t good.”
I went for a nonchalant shrug. “At least I found out on the right side of the wedding bells.”
“True.” She paused. “What’d you do with the Westwood?”
“Why, you want it?”
She laughed. “Not now I know its history. Just curious, I guess.”
“I gave it to the girl on reception, told her to hand it in to the nearest charity shop that supported cancer of any kind.”
“I hope they know its worth.”
“It’s just material.”
“Westwood material.” She tipped her head. “Are you sure I don’t know you from somewhere?”
“I don’t think so.” I managed a smile. “Tell me, what’s it like managing these beefed-up blokes? They seem quite the handful.”
She laughed. “They are, and I’ll tell you all about it if you hang around long enough to have a glass of wine with me.” She raised her hand. “But right now my husband needs me. We have a secret signal if the women get too handsy, and he’s just flashed that signal my way.”
“They do that? The women?”
“Yep, guys can’t grope, but women have no such rules.”
“Fuck.” I watched her leave then visually hunted out Dylan and Ben and Theo, no hands in no-go places for them, or so it seemed. Eduardo was with a family of four, all in matching Viper hoodies and smiling for the camera.
What the hell was I doing? Searching these four players out like they were mine to keep an eye on.
It was time to hit the sack. My non-wedding day had clearly screwed with my brain in a big way. I needed to sleep. I needed to reset my neural function and then wake up sane, considered, and with a more definite, organized plan than simply flying away.
Chapter Six
When I reached the privacy of my room, I allowed the tears to fall. They slid down my cheeks and off my chin while I hunted out my toiletry bag and nightwear. As I brushed my teeth, I sobbed, and when I flopped onto the bed, I buried my face in the pillow to muffle the sound of my misery.
I let the day’s emotions pour from me and mourned the life I’d planned. I grieved for the man I’d thought Steven was and the friend I’d believed Cheryl to be. My heart broke, and bitter humiliation swamped me. Disappointment was a dank, dark cloak laying heavily over me, threatening to suffocate me.
When I woke the next morning, I blinked and stared at the red-and-green-striped curtains and flailed in a moment of complete disorientation.
Where the hell was I?
And then it all came rushing back to me with all the grace of Mount Vesuvius erupting.
“Fuck!” I sat, swinging my legs out of bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I had to get into gear. Address some of the messages on my phone, call Aunt Mary, and get myself to the airport and on a flight.
Knock. Knock.
“Hang on a sec.” I pulled on a fluffy white robe and went to the door. When I opened it, Eduardo was standing there with a trolley laden with silver domes covering plates, glasses of juice, and piles of pastries.
“You slept past breakfast serving time, so I saved you some.” He pushed forward.
I sidestepped to avoid being run down.
“I…er…thanks, I appreciate it, but—”
“Don’t say I didn’t have to,ma choue. I barely saw you at the meet last night, didn’t even get the chance to ask how you were holding up.”
