Page 33 of When Alec Met Evie
“Thanks,” I say to Alec, but then I shut off the screen and lean forward, dropping the phone face down on the table.
I shouldn’t be comparing the two men, but I can’t help it. Devon and I talked a lot, but most of the time, we were talking about him. His life. His auditions. His friends.
As soon as I found out I was pregnant, everything changed because Devon couldn’t be the center of the universe anymore. He hated the idea of sharing me, hated that I was prioritizing someone else’s needs over his. Even when those needs were my own.
Alec is the complete opposite. Even with his fame, his following, his role as the captain of a very popular hockeyfranchise, he has prioritized me and my comfort over and over again, and we aren’t even in a relationship. He’s just a genuinely nice guy.
My phone buzzes one more time, and a question flashes in Alec’s eyes. But he must sense I don’t want to talk about it because he doesn’t ask or push for information.
It’s the right move because I don’t want to think about Devon right now.
Instead, I smile and shift my focus back to Alec. “So tell me about the game.”
CHAPTER 9
ALEC
The compulsion toask Evie about her ex-husband is stronger than I expect. Even more surprising: the impulse to find the man and pummel him for causing the grief that just flickered across her face from a simple text. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, hiding behind a mask of determined indifference, but I saw it before Evie schooled it away, and I’m not sure I can forget it.
Does she miss him? Do they still talk? Is he involved in Juno’s life at all?
I’m not sure it’s my place to ask, which means it’s definitely not my place to punch the guy on her behalf. But I still wish I could.
Bare minimum, I want to make her feel better, distract her from whatever she’s feeling, which has me reaching for my duffel, rummaging through it to find the baby things Summer picked up for me.
Just as Summer promised it would be, the white plastic merch bag was in my stall after the game. It stayed there until I finished with Dr. Samuelson and returned to retrieve it. My teammates were all long gone by then, but I still pushed the giftto the bottom of my bag before leaving the Summit. Not sure who I was hiding it from. Maybe myself.
Now that I have it in my hands and I’m really paying attention, the bag feels slightly more full than it should, and I wonder if Summer included a few extra things.
“You okay?” Evie asks.
The time it took me to find the shiny white plastic was just long enough for me to realize how this might look, and I start to doubt. “I’m fine,” I say, but my voice is a little too breathy, almost squeaky.
I clear my throat and try again. “I’m fine,” I say, my voice normal this time, but based on Evie’s expression, I’m not doing myself any favors here.
Will this give her the wrong idea? Seem presumptuous? Is seconds after her ex-husband texted really the time to make a gesture like this?
I stand up and tuck the bag behind my back. Maybe I can get it into the kitchen and stash it in a cabinet without Evie realizing I’m holding something. I turn my body and back toward the kitchen without turning around, but she stops me by asking, “What’s in the bag?”
I spin so my back is to her and shove the bag under my shirt. It’s bulky and obvious and I’m being ridiculous, but suddenly, the idea of giving her a gift like this feels way too personal.
“Nothing,” I say over my shoulder, using my arms to hide the bulge under my clothes.
Evie grins, her tone light as she asks, “If it’s nothing, why are you hiding it from me?”
“I’m not hiding anything,” I lie.
Evie stands and reaches down to give Juno her pacifier before rounding the couch and approaching me. She walks slowly, a smile playing on her lips, until she’s less than a footaway. “I think you’re lying to me,” she says. Then, quick as lightning, she snakes one hand under my shirt.
My hands fly to my midsection, trapping and holding the bag in place, but I end up trapping Evie too, flattening her palm against my stomach.
I relax my grip, expecting her to tug her hand away, but instead she does the opposite. She slides her hand upward, grazing it over my skin until her fingers brush the bottom of my right pectoral muscle. I flex, my breath catching in my throat, and Evie grins, her expression sly as she drops her hand and yanks the bag free.
“That was way too easy,” she says with a smirk.
I can’t do anything but smile. Partly because my skin is still tingling from her touch. But more because the light in Evie’s eyes that disappeared when Devon texted is back now, and seeing it sends warmth across my chest.
I like making her happy.
