Chapter 43
CHAPTER
FORTY-THREE
CHANCE
I’m quick on my feet, so when I spin around and see someone barreling toward me, I try to dodge them. Strangely, sidestepping doesn’t help and we still ended up colliding.
“I’m so sorry,” a feminine voice says.
I remove my hand from the elbow where I’d been offering support.
The stranger looks up at me and I reel back. “Fina?”
“Hi, Chance.” Red lips stretch wide in a sultry smile.
Looking down, I realize she’s still rubbing my chest. I remove her hands immediately. “What are you doing here?”
“What do you mean?” She raises thin eyebrows and speaks in a thick accent. “I receive invitation. Same as you.”
I jerk my head around to April. She’s staring at me in concern, but that look turns to horrified shock when Fina glances over my shoulder to see where my gaze has gone.
“Your girlfriend?” Fina says, a question in her tone.
Without a word, I offer her my pocket square to clean up and promptly move past her.
A trio of waiters descend on the mess of broken shards and spilled champagne. One holds a mop and the other steps in my path to offer me a dry towel. Stalking ahead, I let the towel hang limp from my hands.
People move out of my way.
The jazz band stops playing.
The entire room watches my every move, but I barely register any of them. My attention is on one person and one person only.
“Chance.” April gapes at me, tilting her head back. Her hands flutter to her throat. “What…?”
Gruffly, I grab her hand and lead her out of the ballroom. She stumbles behind me, hurrying to keep up in her heels.
When I realize she’s struggling, I slow my pace but only by a bit.
“Chance, are you okay?” My mother blocks my path, her eyes wide. “I have a set of extra clothes in our room upstairs. Your father couldn’t decide between his two tuxes until the last minute. Take this and dry off before you catch a cold.” Mom offers me a room card.
Angry words froth at the tip of my tongue, but I don’t release them. I wasn’t raised to disrespect my mother, and I refuse to lift my voice at a woman no matter the reason. Also, the conversation we need to have about her inviting Fina can wait. This is neither the time nor place for it.
“I’m okay,” I tell her flatly.
Her eyebrows hike and she looks dumbfounded.
I pull April along, throwing the doors of the ballroom open and heading down the hallway. Soon, I feel a little tug. April is trying to free herself from my grip.
“Chance, slow down. Where are you going?”
Forcing myself to ease the pace, I tell her, “I didn’t know Fina was going to be here.”
April’s thick eyelashes bounce up and down. She shakes her head as if I’m not making sense. “Chance, your shirt is soaking wet. At least take your mom’s advice and change into something dry.”
“It’s fine.” I’ve endured worse than this. Sweating profusely on an ice-cold rink is a hazard of the trade. I can survive a little champagne on my shirt.
“You’re so stubborn,” April mumbles. Her energy shifts from befuddled to emboldened. She quickens her pace and leads me to the elevators. When the doors open, she taps the button for the upper floor.
The doors remain open.
April taps again. “Why isn’t it closing?”
“You can’t go to the hotel suites without a room card.” And since I didn’t take the card from mom, the only place we can go is down to the basement parking lot or lobby.
“Oh.” April makes an embarrassed little sound and flicks mom’s keycard against the slot.
Immediately, the doors beep and slide closed.
I frown at her. “When did you get that?”
“While you were dragging me away like a caveman. I accepted it on your behalf.”
I sigh heavily. “April?—”
“Chance, I’m not going to repeat myself. You’re changing into dry clothes. Whether or not we return to the party is up to you, but that part is non-negotiable.”
I study her as the numbers on the elevator panel get higher and higher.
“What?” April asks, brushing her hair back.
“Aren’t you angry?”
Her eyes flick to me. “Angry?”
“Yeah. About Fina.”
She scrunches her nose as if the thought had never occurred to her and my heart releases a breath so heavy it rattles my ribs and lungs.
“Why would I be angry about Fina?” Understanding dawns and she pokes her finger in my chest. “Is that why you were so weird with your mom? You think I’m upset that Fina is here?”
I wrap my hand around the finger poking my tux. “Trust is hard to earn but easy to lose. My dad taught me that.” I shrug. “Well, it was his advice for networking in business, but it applies to relationships too.” Dropping my tone to an earnest husk, I explain, “Earning your trust was so difficult, April. I won’t do anything to make you doubt me. And I won’t tolerate anyone who tries to attack the trust I earned.”
April tosses my hand off and folds her arms over her chest, but her stern frown thaws a little.
The doors open and she stalks out first.
I follow her, trying to figure out how to get out of the doghouse. On the one hand, I’m thrilled that April seems unaffected by Fina’s appearance tonight. On the other hand, it seems like I might have overreacted, thereby extinguishing the very flame I was trying to protect.
April presses the room key to the door and it opens with a beep. Once inside, she slides the plastic in the cradle behind the door and the lights click on, brightening the dark room.
Her eyes sweep over the suite, eyebrows climbing. I’ve been in a million suites like this while traveling, not only for hockey but also with my parents growing up.
However, I try to see the suite from her eyes.
The penthouse overlooks the frantic city center. Many stories below, cars wind through the streets and pedestrians rush out to meet friends or go on dates after work. From this height, the activity below is hard to pinpoint. Everyone outside of this room looks like a tiny, moving dot.
Skyscrapers beam hues of red and yellow, creating a canvas of manmade stars that stretch as far as the eyes can see.
The room itself is huge with a salon boasting overstuffed leather chairs, a thick rug, and a mini-bar for entertaining guests.
“Go find your dad’s shirt. When you take off this one, give it to me. I’ll wash it.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell her.
April narrows her eyes in warning.
I obediently step into the next room and locate dad’s shirt. It looks a lot smaller than my current one. Setting it on the bed, I unbutton and shrug off my clothes. Checking the tag on dad’s shirt proves my hunch correct.
“Hey, April,” I step out with both dad’s shirt and my ruined one in each fist, “I don’t think this will fit.”
Utter silence is all that greets me.
I glance up. April is sitting on the edge of the couch, her eyes glued to my chest. I warm beneath her innocent and unrestrained observation.
I’ve done a few shirtless photoshoots for magazines—and there was also the recent debacle that landed me my FreshButtFit deal—so I’m used to being stared at while half dressed. But I’ve never been this happy showing off my physique.
“I think I’ll have to dry this one.” I dangle my ruined shirt from the edge of my fingers, intentionally flexing my bicep in the process.
April shoots her gaze to the ceiling, her cheeks flushed. “Hand it over. I’ll wash it in the bathroom sink.”
“Do you want me to check the mini-fridge for a water bottle?” I ask.
“What?”
“To put on your cheeks?” I tease. “Blushing that hard seems like it hurts.”
“I’m not blushing.” April shoots to her feet and snatches the shirt from me, running off.
I chuckle and follow at a safe distance.
April steps into the bathroom and I’m thankful that the toilet and sink are separate. There’s no door for her to lock me out or I’m sure she would have.
“It’s not even your first time seeing me shirtless,” I point out.
April ducks her head toward the sink and studiously ignores me as she places the shirt under running water.
I smile and lean against the wall, just watching her. She curled the ends of her hair and the thick, brown locks dance against her back with every scrubbing motion. The navy dress fits her like a glove, hinting tastefully at the curves hidden beneath the fabric.
She’s exquisite and so beautiful that I wish I could keep her to myself and not share her with the party downstairs.
“April.”
“What?” she sputters, refusing to look at me.
“April.”
This time, she spins around. “ What ?”
“Nothing.” I fold my arms over my chest and don’t miss the way her eyes dip down before they sail back to my face. “I just like saying your name.”
She quickly turns away, but I can see her blushing prettily in the mirror. Her hands work, scrubbing my shirt together. “It’s not that fancy of a name. In fact, it’s barely a name. It’s literally the fourth month of the year.”
I purse my lips. “It’s a beautiful name because it’s your name. There doesn’t need to be another reason for it to be special.”
April stops scrubbing. My shirt floats in the sink, surrounded by suds before it drifts down to the bottom of the water.
I shuffle closer to her. “April?”
Her fingers dig into the sink and her head hangs low.
Panicked, I grip her shoulders and turn her around.
There are tears in her eyes.
April… is crying.