Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
McKenna grinned as she looked around the table, filled with friends, at Pat’s Pub. Sometimes she was overwhelmed by the desire to pinch herself, amazed by how incredible her life was these days.
Losing Eddie had impacted her in more ways than just breaking her heart.
During their year together as a couple, she’d created a social circle of his friends.
After four years away at college, McKenna’s slate had been somewhat wiped clean upon her return to Columbus.
She’d struggled to find things in common with her high school girlfriends, many of whom had already gotten married and started families.
So she’d found new ones. When she started work at Pete’s Sporting Goods, her colleagues and Eddie’s friends became her new gang.
However, when Eddie dumped her and moved on with Lisa, she learned quickly just whose friends they really were.
She’d stopped getting invited to happy hours and birthday parties and dinner.
Even at work, it quickly became apparent her colleagues had decided Eddie’s side was the smarter choice, considering he was Pete’s son and their future boss.
She found herself suddenly eating lunch alone in her office, no longer included in conversations in the common room or invited to join in whenever they ordered food.
In Baltimore, she’d found better friendships in the last ten months than she’d ever managed to form in her own hometown.
She and Erika had become close since fall, and the addition of Ainsley, Ally, and Chelsea to their gang of girls had only made things more fun.
They’d arranged for a standing Sunday brunch once a month and had recently signed up for one of those paint-and-wine classes.
Everyone was in high spirits tonight because the Stingrays had clinched the wildcard spot in the playoffs.
Their season wasn’t over yet, and they were thrilled because it had definitely been down to the wire.
Tonight’s game had been the deciding factor, and the win had come in overtime. Nail-biter much?
McKenna was flying high herself, but it had precious little to do with the hockey results—though she was thrilled the team was going on—and everything to do with the Stingrays’ right winger.
It had been three weeks since Tank drove her back to his place, cooked her a delicious meal, then given her the greatest sex of her life. Which was saying something, because she would have sworn there was no way he could’ve topped the previous week…when he’d given her the best sex of her life.
Since then, she’d stopped using that descriptor completely because Tank topped himself every night.
Yep.
Every.
Night.
She wasn’t sure how she went from playing it safe with the man and keeping their relationship professional to throwing caution to the wind, but here she was. Sexually satisfied for the first time in her life and dating—shit, fake dating—the hottest, sweetest guy she’d ever known.
So yeah, she should be covered with bruises from pinching herself.
Mainly, because the man was a goddamn artist when it came to bedroom play, and while her sensible, boring side continued insisting she needed to put the brakes on, she refused to listen.
Probably because it wasn’t just the sex confusing her and causing her to forget this wasn’t real. It was all the rest, as well.
It was the romantic dinner dates, which weren’t always in public places and just for the press.
The way Tank had started making her those yummy scrambled eggs every morning after she slept over.
The way he spent the better part of a Sunday playing Mr. Fix-it Man around her townhouse, strapping on a tool belt to repair a wobbly stool in her kitchen, hang the heavy-ass mirror she’d found at a flea market, and help her paint her bathroom—with the permission of her landlord—because she literally couldn’t stand the disgusting lime-green walls the previous tenant had preferred.
It was the way he’d joined her for her rewatch of Bridgerton, grumbling throughout, even though she could tell he was really into it.
How he’d started dragging her to the gym, because apparently climbing the stairs to her bedroom every night didn’t count as cardio, and he insisted it was important for her to exercise.
Not because he gave a damn what she looked like but because he seemed to genuinely care about her physical health.
And it was in the way he made of point of finding her in the arena right before a game, grinning like a madman when he saw her sitting there in his jersey, looking at her like it truly mattered that she was watching him.
Three weeks in, and her fake relationship with Tank was turning out to be the best relationship of her life.
Which was a big fucking problem.
Because it wasn’t a relationship at all. Something she kept forgetting when she really—REALLY—shouldn’t.
McKenna glanced at her phone for the hundredth time in half an hour. The text she’d sent Tank earlier was still marked unread.
Blake said he’d thought Tank would be right behind them when they showered and changed after their post-game workout.
“He’ll be here,” Blake murmured, when he caught her looking at her phone.
“You and Tank are so cute,” Erika said to her. “I swear you’re both the same, always looking around for the other whenever you’re apart for three minutes.”
That was the other part of this situation making it hard for her to remember what she and Tank shared wasn’t real.
Their friends.
Tank continued to insist that they keep up pretenses for everyone, not letting anyone in on the “fake nature” of their relationship.
Honestly, she thought he would have caved on that by now, because his teammates were constantly giving him good-natured shit for falling hard and fast, despite swearing off committed relationships for years.
McKenna figured he would have slipped at some point and told them the truth, if only to get them off his back.
“Like you and Blake are any different,” Ainsley chimed in. “Codependent much, Erika?”
“Pot meet kettle,” Chelsea tossed at Ainsley, at which point they all cracked up laughing because all three women—and their Stingrays men—were definitely still in the honeymoon phases of their relationships.
And the other women assumed she and Tank were the same. Which made McKenna wish for the millionth time that they were.
When Erika poured the last of the pitcher of beer in her glass, McKenna hopped up, grabbing the two empties. “My turn to buy a round.”
She laughed as everyone at the table cheered. There were going to be a lot of folks catching rideshares home tonight.
McKenna walked to the end of the bar, nodding when Padraig held up one finger, letting her know he’d seen her. A lot of the locals knew that the Stingrays occasionally celebrated wins here, so the place was hopping, which was impressive considering it was a Monday night.
“Hey, Mac. Two more pitchers of the same?”
“Yep. It’s a Natty Boh night.” She handed Padraig the pitchers, then waited as he carried them to the tap.
Glancing out the window, she smiled when she caught sight of Tank parking his Audi across the street, relieved he’d finally made it.
Her happiness faded considerably when Lara climbed out of the passenger seat.
She felt frozen in place as she watched the two of them walk toward the pub together, chatting amiably.
While Lara was constantly around, Tank typically ignored the other woman, always remaining glued to McKenna’s side. She’d stupidly thought that meant whatever feelings he’d had for Lara were gone. But now…she wasn’t so sure.
He’d said from the start he was committed to doing whatever the PR department deemed necessary to protect his career. Perhaps McKenna had overestimated just how committed he actually was.
Had he been avoiding Lara not because he was uninterested in her but because he was determined to play his role of doting boyfriend just long enough to get out of the doghouse?
McKenna’s chest grew tight, her heart starting to race—and not in a good way—because it felt as if someone had just told her that Christmas was canceled.
Try as she may, she couldn’t think of any reason why Tank and Lara should be showing up together.
Well, no innocent reason. Especially when Lara reached for his arm, clinging to it as if she was afraid of falling in her ridiculously high heels.
Because the bar was so crowded, Tank and Lara stopped at the entrance once they walked in, seeking out the team’s table.
Even though they were standing relatively close to her, neither of them spotted her near the front window, probably because of her short stature and the fact they were aware their party would be sitting toward the back in their usual area.
Tank said something to Lara, but McKenna couldn’t hear him with his back turned toward her. However, she could hear when she raised her face to Tank, shifting too close to him.
“Thanks, lover,” Lara purred. “It’s always fun taking a ride with you.” She winked before walking toward their table.
Tank remained a few steps behind, and McKenna wondered if that was on purpose. If he was trying to make it look as if he and Lara had arrived separately.
She’d spent the last few months of her relationship with Eddie, questioning his actions and the motives behind them, driving herself insane because he’d gaslighted her into feeling like a jealous, suspicious woman, seeing things that weren’t there.
She hated that she was now doing the same thing with Tank.
God. She was the world’s biggest fool. And literally the worst judge of character when it came to men. Her track record proved it, considering she’d dated two cheaters and an emotional abuser.