Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EMMA
H ow could something as simple as a kiss shake me to the core?
Charlie’s lips moved against mine with a passion I hadn’t expected, igniting a fire that spread through my entire body. I clung to him, desperately trying to anchor myself as our tongues danced. I forgot about the crowded arena, the game, everything except the man in front of me.
But it didn’t last.
A deafening roar jolted me back to reality. The crowd. The Kiss Cam. Oh god.
I pulled away, breathless and dizzy. He stared into my eyes, his gaze dark and intense, before he glanced up at the jumbotron. Our faces filled the enormous screen, both of us looking flushed and slightly dazed.
Heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks as I became acutely aware of the thousands of eyes on us. People clapped and whistled, grinning in our direction. I wanted to sink into my seat and disappear.
“How... how many people saw that?” I whispered.
Charlie chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “You probably don’t want to know.”
“What do you mean?”
He hesitated for a moment before answering. “Well, these games are televised, so...”
My eyes widened in horror. “Oh no. No, no, no.” I buried my face in my hands, mortification washing over me in waves. “You mean to tell me that kiss might have been broadcast to... what? Millions of people?”
“Hey, it’s okay.” He placed a hand on my shoulder, trying to be comforting. All it did was remind my body that I’d been seconds away from crawling into his lap. “Nobody’s going to remember it by tomorrow. These things happen all the time at games.”
I peeked through my fingers at him. “Really?”
He nodded, directing a reassuring smile at me. “Promise. It’ll be old news before the final buzzer.”
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. As the game resumed and the crowd’s attention shifted back to the ice, I found myself replaying the kiss in my mind almost obsessively.
I snuck a glance at Charlie, who’d become engrossed in the game once more. His brow creased in concentration as he watched the players zip across the ice. Confident that he was fully focused on the game, I openly admired his profile, the strong line of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes.
Stop it.
I tried. Oh, how I tried, but my mind kept wandering. I shuffled through all the things I’d learned about Charlie tonight — and yes, the kiss featured, again and again. Those dangerous what-ifs coming out to play again.
What if he had lived in New York when we met? What if, after that night at the wedding, we’d dated? Three months of getting to know each other, of falling in love slowly instead of being thrown into this whirlwind of unexpected parenthood.
Would we be a real couple now? Committed to raising our baby together, not out of obligation, but out of love?
A pang of sadness hit me in the chest. Because as much as I tried to deny it, I wanted that. I wanted the fairytale, the happily ever after. I wanted Charlie to look at me the way he looked at the ice — with passion, excitement, and unwavering focus.
Charlie leapt to his feet, pumping his fist in the air as the Stingers scored another goal. “Did you see that?” he shouted over the roar of the crowd, his eyes alight with joy. “What a beautiful shot!”
I nodded, forcing a smile. “Pretty impressive.”
He laughed, dropping back into his seat. “Pretty impressive? That’s like calling the Sistine Chapel a nice finger painting.”
“Well, excuse me for not being fluent in hockey-speak,” I teased, nudging him with my elbow.
Charlie’s smile softened. “Sorry, I get a little carried away sometimes. It’s hard not to when you love something this much, you know?”
My chest ached and those pesky what-ifs tried to rear their heads again. I squashed them, focusing only on his face. Not on how handsome he was, or how much I wanted to feel the brush of that beard between my legs.
I studied him for a moment, curiosity getting the better of me. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Why did you quit?” At his confused look, I elaborated. “Hockey, I mean. You said you played as a kid, but now you’re an agent. What happened?”
Charlie’s expression clouded over, and for a moment, I regretted asking. But then he sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“It’s... complicated.” His gaze fixed on the ice while he rubbed his thumb across his lips. “I loved the game. Still do, obviously. But I got tired of everyone sucking up to me because of my dad.”
“Why were they sucking up?”
“He’s in the Hockey Hall of Fame. Big deal in Canada. Everyone wanted to be my friend, but it wasn’t really about me. I was just a means of getting to my dad.”
My heart ached for him. “That must have been hard.”
“It sucked. So I quit. Bonus points for making my old man angry, which I loved at the time.”
“Do you ever miss it? Playing, I mean.”
He shrugged. “Sometimes. But I’m happy being a fan now.”
His attention shifted back to the ice.