Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
BIANCA
When Brody arranged for a new seat as if I’d been evicted for bad manners from my old one, I thought it was a good idea.
Now that I’m following a security person down the carpeted hallway to Sabien’s parents’ luxury box, I’m not so sure.
They’re going to know I slapped—don’t replay it again.
I’m too mixed up about whether that slap was a good thing or not.
Brody thinks it was, which causes an instant smile to pop on my face.
But what will Sabien’s family think?
It doesn’t matter. Only one quick thought of the alternative—sitting next to Nora Shade for the entire game—stiffens my spine, and I plaster a grateful smile on my face that Mr. and Mrs. Dumas graciously agreed to take me in like a hockey-game orphan with no other seat available in the sold-out arena.
It’s the Portsmouth Whalers' first game since the All-Star break.
The butterflies stir in my gut, and so far, I can manage the flurry.
I can still talk, walk, and think in spite of my misgivings about carrying on my charade up close and personal with these kind people.
I met Sabien’s wife, Cherry, once briefly at a Whalers pre-season event and remember her as a bubbly, fun animal-lover with a generous heart, especially when it comes to Sabien.
I wonder what he’s told her? Fresh panic hits me. What should I say? Should I assume she knows the secret about our fake marriage or pretend like I’m really married to Brody? Shit. I wish I could ask Brody. Translation: I wish he were here with me.
What nonsensical thoughts I’ve been reduced to.
Brody is down on the ice, doing what he loves, what he was born to do, and I’m here doing my job. That’s all this is.
My guide, a security guard, stops at a door with a brass plaque labeled Private Suite 10. He extends his arm to indicate this is my destination.
“Thank you,” I say as I manage one last flurry of butterflies—it has to be the last one.
He nods, and after a brief hesitation, leaves while I hover outside the door.
The noise of the crowd’s buzz from the arena below doesn’t penetrate the closed-off dark hallway where I doubt I’d even hear a pin drop, but I can feel the buzz down to my bones.
I knock.
Cherry Dumas opens the door with a welcoming smile, but she stops short when a dog—albeit the most adorable dog I’ve ever seen—leaps toward me. I take a step back in self-preservation, and Cherry quickly takes hold of the dog with two arms wrapped around her and whispering.
To me, she says, “I’m so sorry.” Then she talks to the dog. “It’s okay, Lady. She’s a friend.”
I’m more of a cat person, but I give Lady a tentative pat. Her hair is soft, and I could swear she smiles at me.
“So this is the infamous Lady. I heard the story about you being Sabien’s dogwalker—I mean Lady’s dogwalker.”
Cherry laughs. “That’s right. I’m so glad you’re joining us; come in.”
I step inside the doorway, and all eyes turn to me. Welcoming smiles light up in greeting, and Cherry puts an arm around me, sweeping me to the center of the luxurious space.
“I’m Sabien’s mother. Call me Marie. I understand you’re a newlywed. You lucky thing, married to that talented and charming young man. Sabien goes on about him—mostly good.” Her eyes twinkle. “But I don’t need to tell you about that.”
“No, you don’t.” Cherry laughs. “Let the poor girl breathe, Marie.”
“Amen to that,” Henry Dumas says, reaching for my hand for a friendly shake, but then he clasps my hand with both of his and says, “Hello, Brooks. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard your name from several of the players—all good. You’re welcome to our box any time.”
“Thank you. Everyone. This means a lot. I… had a seat, but—”
Cherry puts a hand on my arm. “No need to go into it. Sabe explained the whole problem.” She grins wide with two thumbs up. “You’re the bomb, girl.”
Marie laughs. “This kind of problem with unscrupulous women crops up now and then, but you handled yourself admirably.”
My face heats up. “Not sure about that.”
“What are you all talking about?” Evan says, turning away from his computer screen.
Henry waves a hand at him. “Never mind. Say hello to Brody Holden’s new wife, Broo—Bianca Brooks—or is it Bianca Holden now?”
I have no idea how to answer that question, but I don’t need to because Evan pops up from his seat and takes my hand, smiling right down to his eyes.
“From the Jett Agency, right?”
I nod.
“Brilliant move—I mean, congratulations on your recent nuptials.”
“Thank you.”
Cherry comes to my side—sans dog—with her arm around my shoulder again like she’s adopted me and means to protect me. Or at least that’s how it feels, and I go with it, my uneasiness melting away.
“You’re all so gracious. I was afraid I was crashing your private party.”
“Nonsense,” Henry says, and then his attention snaps to the rink below as the noise of the crowd rises up.
We all gravitate to the seats overlooking the rink.
The arena lights dim, and the spotlights go on as the players skate out one at a time for their introductions and take their place at the blueline.
Brody stands next to Jason Hall along with Sabien and the rest of the first line players. He’s going to be splitting ice time with Jason tonight, and I know he’s not happy about it.
After the national anthem, we settle down in the center-ice box’s seats and lean forward with our unobstructed bird's-eye view of the action.
I sit next to Cherry with Lady tucked between us and a beer in the cup holder, feeling like a princess and wishing my family and my bestie Kat could share this with me.
Cherry squeezes my hand as the players line up at center ice for the puck drop. “This is where my nerves kick in every time. How do you feel?”
I chuckle. “My nerves have been running amok since… I don’t know how long. Maybe ever since Vegas,” I admit.
“I get it,” she says quietly. “It’s a lot to get used to.”
I squelch the urge to tell her everything, to let out all my worst fears and crazy desires. The need to tell someone neutral, someone who won’t judge me, someone who will keep my secret, bubbles dangerously close to explosive levels.
But no matter what my instincts say, I don’t truly know that I can trust Cherry not to judge me and to keep my secret.
Logically, I have no reason to trust her.
I can’t start living on instinct, or wishful thinking, or blind trust—that would be na?ve.
And it never worked out for me in the past. I viciously suppress the nasty niggling fact that I may be behaving less than logical when it comes to Brody since I slept with him, knowing he--
“So tell me what happened?” Cherry rescues me from facing my lapse in logical thinking. “Sabien was light on the deets.”
I take a grateful breath. “Nora is Brody’s sister Kara’s friend, but when I walked into his—came home from shopping, I found her hanging on him and kissing him—or trying to. To Brody’s credit, he was trying to avoid her kiss.”
“Wow. In your own home—that’s beyond nervy. She deserved a slap for that.”
I shake my head. “That’s not what made me slap her.”
“No? What made you snap?”
“She made a personal comment about him,” I half mumble, realizing I can’t explain it. It’s Brody’s personal business and something he keeps to himself.
The crowd’s roar rises up and shakes the air, snapping our attention to the ice below where Sabien scored the first goal.
Cherry jumps up and down, holding my arm and shouting her lungs out as we watch the replay on the jumbotron.
“Don’t tell him I didn’t see him score,” she says breathlessly after play resumes.
“Of course not. Besides, I think watching the replay counts.”
She hugs me and we pay attention to the game now with plenty of reasons to cheer, especially when Brody scores his second goal to put the Whalers ahead and a bushel of butterflies wreak havoc inside me, seeming to lodge in my throat.
There’s less than a minute left in the game and the other team is pulling their goalie.
Cherry and I clutch each other when there’s a line change and Brody doesn’t leave the ice.
“What’s he doing?” Henry says, and I know he’s talking about Brody. Shit.
The butterflies drop like they’ve been shot, landing like lead in the pit of my stomach.
Cherry looks at me and I shake my head, clutching her arm. We watch as the puck is dropped and play resumes, and I pray to the hockey gods that we win, that Brody didn’t mess up by staying out there when he wasn’t supposed to.
Holding my breath until I’m dizzy, I watch as he somehow gets the puck and shoots it into the empty net. The arena explodes into deafening cheers and Cherry hugs me while I finally take a breath. Then I worry that I’m going to be violently ill.
“The boy’s unbelievable,” Henry says, chuckling and shaking his head. “A fucking hat trick. He stayed on the ice to get an empty net goal so he could get a hat trick. That kid has balls of steel.”
They laugh and I smile, but it fades away with uneasiness because there’s something wrong with this picture.
“He wasn’t supposed to stay out on the ice,” I say quietly.
“No,” Henry confirms. Marie gives me a sympathetic smile, shaking her head in agreement. We gather our coats to leave, and the mood of the room sobers.
I get up the nerve to ask Mr. Dumas about what’s worrying me. “What do you think the coach will do to him for staying on the ice at the end of the game?”
“It’s not good,” he shakes his head. “Disobeying the coach on the ice is a mortal sin.”
“I don’t know what he was thinking,” Keith says, “but he took a hella chance and it paid off. Amazing to watch.”
“I know what he was thinking,” I mumble as we file out of the luxury box. But I’m not foolish enough to think he did it for me in spite of what he said earlier. It wasn’t a promise; it was flirting.