Page 82 of Moonlighter
“Wait, what?” My head spins. “Max, if he really can bail me out, I’ll have to do what’s best for the shareholders.”
“Let’s talk more about this in person,” Max says. “Soon.”
“You sound very paranoid right now, even for you.”
Max laughs. “You pay me a lot of money to be paranoid. Can I see your list of potential new manufacturers? I’ll tell you why soon.”
“Sure. I have to go.”
“Enjoy the game,” he says.
I hang up, realizing I never told him I was going to the game. Then again, it’s Max’s job to know where I am at all times.
His man Duff is already doing a tap dance outside the door. So I quickly key in the entry code and pull open the door.
As I enter the suite, several people turn to face me at once. “Hi, stranger!” Nate calls out. “Come on in.”
Rebecca—that kind soul—also finds the will to smile at me. “So glad you made it.” She pops a potato chip into her mouth. “Let me take your coat.”
“Thank you,” I say, feeling sheepish. “Your sweater! It’s adorable.”
“Thanks!” she glances down. It’s purple cashmere and the Bruisers logo is stitched right in. “Nate had it made for me.”
“I love it.”
I remove my coat, and Becca lets out a little squeak as she takes it from me. “Well! Hello, baby!”
My hand goes instinctively to my belly. “Can’t really hide it anymore, can I?”
“Not so much. But you look great! Can I grab you a soda and a snack?”
“I’ll get it, Becca. Don’t miss the game on my account.”
She turns to hang up my jacket, and I actually follow her toward the quiet corner where the coat tree stands. “Hey, Becca?”
“Hmm?” She turns around.
“Thank you for inviting me tonight.”
“Oh! We’re happy you could come.”
“I almost didn’t,” I admit. “I still feel bad that I was a jerk to you.”
“Buddy, no.” Becca laughs as she drapes my coat over a hook. “I don’t think you cornered the market on bad moments. And anyway, it’s all forgotten. Go eat some cheese puffs. The faceoff is in five minutes. Who’s the young stud?”
I glance at Duff, who’s smiling like he just won the Super Lotto. “My bodyguard. He’s a Brooklyn fan, so I brought him with me.”
“Excellent. Let’s get this party started.”
I tell Duff to make himself at home. And when I head over to the drinks table, Nate is there, handing me a glass. “What’s new? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Oh, you know. Running an empire keeps me off the streets.” There is a lovely cluelessness to Nate that makes this all easier. He probably doesn’t have any idea that I’ve been avoiding him out of embarrassment.
“Feeling okay?” he asks, grabbing a Diet Coke, his drink of choice.
“I feel great. Butfat. And maternity clothes are a drag. All those shapeless waistlines. On the positive side, people always offer me a chair when I walk into a room.”
He cackles. Then he gestures toward the plush seats at the end of the room, open to the rink. “Take your pick. We’re going to win tonight.”
