He laughs and smacks me on the back. “Hey, you’re still coming to dinner with us after the game tonight, right?”
“With you and your family?”
“Well, me and my wife and older sister. My younger siblings are at the game, but they have college shit to do afterward, and my father is taking Aiden home.” Then he sweetens the deal. “The steakhouse has an amazing chef.”
“Yeah, that sounds good. I need to check with my mom and make sure she doesn’t need help getting Gramps home, but it should be fine.”
“Nice wine list too, though…” He lowers his voice conspiratorially. “I probably won’t drink since Holly can’t have any. We haven’t really shared this with anyone beside our immediate families, but she’s pregnant. It’s early, still in the first trimester.” His wide grin lights up his face.
“Congrats, man,” I tell him, genuinely happy for my friend.
“Let’s go out for warm-ups,” Coach hollers from the door, and we all head that way.
Ten minutes later, I take the ice for the first time as a Brewers player. It’s exhilarating, the atmosphere electric in the arena.
“Gotta go say hi to my wife and baby,” Baylor says. “They’re over there in the front row.” He gestures with a thumb over his shoulder.
Before I can look, Gibby slides up beside me and screams, “Swaaaain! Let’s do our thing, chicken wing.” The guy is a fucking maniac, but I love the hell out of him.
The goalie and I resurrect the handshake routine we used to do in our college days. It’s complicated, involving hand slaps, a chest thump, and some utterly ridiculous footwork where Gibby pretends to fall and I “save” him.
The crowd is laughing by the time we’re done. I spin around, noticing Baylor headed my way with a goofy smile on his face. Guess seeing his wife and kid is what gets him going before a game.
I look to the front row. I still haven’t met Baylor’s wife, though I did meet Aiden that one day. I spot the little guy, and I’m about to wave at him when my eyes fall on the woman holding him.
She has golden hair plaited into two long braids beneath a navy-blue Brewers beanie. The jersey she wears has Baylor’s number on it and fits loosely on her slim frame. I take in all that a split second before I meet her eyes.
Aqua ones that I recognize instantly.
Because I’d stared adoringly into those gorgeous orbs while I made love to her during our last night together two months ago.
My dream girl.
My lips whisper the words as a thrill runs down my spine. But the thrill is short-lived and replaced by cold dread when I realize…
I fucked Baylor’s wife.Oh my fucking god.I fucked my teammate and friend’s wife!
“Swain! Why you standing there like you’ve got a hockey stick up your ass?” Coach’s rebuke has me jerking around, away from the woman I could spend all night staring at.
No! She’s not yours, Reno. She neverwas.
I join my team for warm-ups, though internally, I’m freaking the fuck out. Especially when I remember what Baylor told me in the locker room a few minutes ago.
Juliette is pregnant. In her first trimester. It’s August now, so that lines up with when we were on the island together. Is the baby mine? Fucking hell, this is a nightmare.
Could she have lied about being on birth control? Maybe they were having trouble conceiving, and she decided to sleep with some sucker she met on vacation to get knocked up. But…
My mind is a tornado, swirling around uncontrollably. Why did she choose me? I’m white. Juliette is white. Baylor is Black, though I suspect he’s mixed because he’s not extremely dark-skinned. Why wouldn’t she have found someone who looked more like her husband so the baby might have a chance of looking like him?
Jesus, Juliette. What the hell were you…
Wait. Wait, wait, wait.Baylor said his wife is named… Molly? No, that’s not it. Holly! Not Juliette.
Fuck me, maybe she lied about that too.
No, she wouldn’t do that. I know her. I spent three weeks with her. She’s good and honest and sweet. She’s my dream girl.
She’s not yours, the annoying little voice in my head reminds me. But even though this is a total shit show, even though it’s wrong, I still wish she were.
