Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Lauren
I pushed through the door of the Empty Net and looked around.
No sign of my boyfriend, which was fine because I liked the idea of a quick dose of Dutch courage before he arrived.
To be honest, I would have preferred some place quieter, like the wine bar a few doors down, but Thad loved the Net, a favorite with Chicago Rebels players and fans alike.
The Rebels win in the Finals a week ago had definitely goosed the bar’s business, another reason I wouldn’t have minded a little respite from every bitchin’ fan boy and his uncle. I wasn’t digging the hockey life right now, and I cursed Alexei Nazarov for harshing my vibe.
I had a call into a lawyer friend who would figure out if Alexei was telling the truth, but in my heart of hearts, I knew he was.
Why would he lie about it? If I knew anything about the man, it was that he wouldn’t want to be tied down at this point in his life unless alcohol and idiocy had mated and had a baby, the offspring being our ill-considered marriage.
I do.
I’m screwed.
But Lucas, my lawyer friend, had said that this was relatively easy to fix. Thank God we lived in the US of A, where there was a solution to every batshit, booze-drenched decision. Per Lucas, you just sign an application for annulment, and it’s usually done and dusted in a month.
Thad wouldn’t even have to know.
Setting aside the notion that keeping this from my boyfriend was somewhat problematic, I considered how to ensure Alexei’s silence because I sure as hell would not be giving into his absurd demands. Three dates? Not a chance.
Money wouldn’t work.
Sweet talk would make me vomit.
Threats of my own? I had no leverage.
I gestured to the bartender. “White wine, please. Sauv blanc if you have it.”
Someone nudged my elbow and I turned to find Summer.
“How about I get that?”
“No worries. The boss always buys.”
Her eyes went soft. “You okay?”
“Of course!”
“Only, that meeting with Alexei Nazarov was kind of out there. Why did he go through me to get to you?” Her tone was a mix of characteristic concern and understandable nosiness.
“Listen, I’d appreciate if you could keep this Nazarov business to yourself.” Summer had signed an NDA when she came on board, and all this was covered by that, but it didn’t hurt to remind her.
She did a lips-zipped gesture. “I’m not going to share agency business with anyone. I’m really interested in asking after you. You seemed a little frazzled by his visit.”
I inhaled deeply just as my wine appeared. Rather than desperately gulp like I wanted to, I took a ladylike sip so as not to worry Summer.
“He and I went to college together, so we go way back. We were sort of friendly once, but we haven’t talked in years.”
“Oh, right.” Summer bit her lip. “He’s not hassling you, is he?”
“No, not at all! It’s just our relationship has always been complicated.”
“I see,” she said, making it clear she didn’t see at all. Sure, my explanation was lacking in the extreme, but I was right about our dynamic. Alexei and I were incapable of hitting a groove that worked.
And this was who I married in Vegas. I took a slug of vino, downright pissed at past me.
Summer’s boyfriend, Hatch Kershaw, appeared behind her, circling his arms around her waist and kissing her neck. Shivering, she relaxed in his arms. He caught my eye.
“Hey, Special Agent Lauren, want a drink?”
I held up my glass. “All good! Oh, I heard from Passepartout today.”
“And?”
“They’re sending over the contract for e-signature tomorrow. You are now the official spokesman of an exclusive European watch brand.”
“Yes!” He turned Summer in his arms. “When were you going to tell me, Sunshine?”
“Uh, never. In case you haven’t noticed, Lauren is your agent, not me. I don’t blab about agency business even when it involves my boyfriend.” She shot a coy look my way. “Confidentiality is the name of the game. But congratulations! I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks, baby.” They kissed passionately while I, the founder of the luxury brand watch deal feast, took another sip.
Hatch let Summer up for air, then leaned into me. “Thanks, Lo. I really appreciate you having my back.”
“That’s what I do. And now that you’re a Cup winner, the deals are going to go up in quality. Sponsors love your moody, brimming on supermodel energy.”
“Ooh, like Vadim Petrov.” Summer grinned. “That guy walked runways and modeled for Gucci. That’s what Lauren should work on next. Haute couture so you can take me to the Paris fashion shows.”
“Or you could just go yourself,” I offered.
Hatch squeezed Summer’s waist. “She’s right. I don’t need a deal with Gucci or whatever to take you to Paris. Let’s go this summer before the season starts up again.”
Summer squealed. “Just so you know, I’m not with you for your romantic Paris trip game, but damn it helps.” She turned to me with a sly wink.
That made me laugh. Summer had suffered plenty of accusations of being a gold digger, even from Hatch, so she liked to get a jibe in every now and then.
“What’s all this then?” Thad had finally arrived. “Summer, I can hear your screeching from the door.”
“Oh, just celebrating my boyfriend’s hot new sponsorship deal and our upcoming trip to Paris. Maybe London, too? We could take the Chunnel train. And I’ve always wanted to visit Edinburgh.” She blinked. “Lauren, I didn’t even ask if I could take time off. So rude of me.”
“We’ll sort it out. Like the ogre boss is going to deny you kids a dream Euro-vacay.”
Feeling pretty good about the fact I was a boss at all, I smiled at Thad, who smiled back.
Seven and a half months ago, we had matched on Eros, a new dating app created by Landon Kershaw, brother of Hatch and another of legendary defenseman Theo Kershaw’s talented progeny.
I had offered to help with the beta testing, and after a couple of false starts, I met Thad Covington, a hedge fund manager who focused on ESG investments—environmental, social, and governance—which made him one of the good ones.
(As long as he was making money for his clients.)
I had been leery about dating him at first. He worked in the same field as my late father who had been convicted of embezzlement, after stealing the life’s savings of several little old ladies and more.
But my dating history until then had been a big, fat zero as I strove to find anyone not like Jonah Yates or someone else who shall not be named.
Meeting Thad, eminently normal and, okay, a little boring, was the stable energy I didn’t know I needed.
Taking a surreptitious glance at him, I congratulated myself on his square jaw, soft brown eyes, and slight cowlick in his medium brown hair, the one minor oddity in a perfectly average appearance.
Handsome, but not likely to have all the girls in a tizzy.
Considerate, but not obsequious. Mostly, I didn’t feel like my heart would stop if he didn’t want to take our relationship further.
Some people might think that was a huge red flag, or maybe even a white one, signaling my surrender to the societal forces insisting a woman of a certain age needed to pin a guy down or risk being alone forever.
But I had gone for flash and fireworks before, and it didn’t work out.
I was a practical person, and practicalities meant that if I wanted to get on the marriage track, I needed to be less fussy.
For the last nine months, since that wake-up in Vegas, I have been working toward a new me—and an understanding boyfriend was top of my list. A man who put up with my travel schedule and career focus.
A guy who listened and didn’t feel threatened by my job or the fact I spent a lot of time soothing the egos of mostly male professional athletes.
And now it was all at risk because of one stupid mistake.
While I contemplated my terrible life choices, Thad asked Hatch about his new sponsorship.
My boyfriend often displayed undeniable puppy dog energy around the players, especially the Chicago Rebels.
This was my world. My brother-in-law Gunnar Bond was a retired Rebels forward, I had grown up practicing with legends on the team and hanging with their kids, and I represented three of the players on the current roster.
“You guys heading to dinner?” Thad asked Hatch and Summer.
I stepped in. “If they are, they’re going alone. Give the kids their space, Thad.”
Summer spoke up, a beat too late. “Oh, we’d love you to join us.”
“Not at all. Hatchling, I’ll give you a call tomorrow about the contract. For now, you two go and feel each other up under a nice, candlelit table.”
Summer shot me a look of relief, and within sixty seconds they were gone.
Disappointment radiated off my boyfriend. “They wanted us to join them.”
“They really didn’t. Besides, I haven’t seen you in a few days. Wouldn’t you like to spend some quality time with your girlfriend?”
Like me, Thad traveled a lot for his work.
He had clients all over the country and he was always on a plane, making deals to get them to buy shares and the like.
I didn’t really understand much about how hedge funds worked.
It all seemed sort of fake. Speculation, positions, Dow-this, S&P-that.
I liked dealing in tangibles—sweat, hard work, wins and losses, results you could see that brought joy and heartbreak to millions.
He leaned in to kiss me softly. “Of course I want to see you. I’ve missed you so much.”
Good. This was what I needed to hear.
Yet all this time I’d known him, I was married to someone else. If he had told me this happened to him, how would I feel about it? Awful, for sure.
“Hey, grab that table over there,” I said, anxious to put some guilt-drenched space between us, if only for a moment. I would have to tell him. It wasn’t fair to keep him in the dark. “I’ll get you a drink. Scotch and soda?”
“Thanks. I’ll take your wine over.”
I would deal with this, remove the problem, and return to the status quo: a late-thirties woman, waiting for her real boyfriend to pop the question.