Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lauren
Thank God for my Bonking Book Club gals.
All I wanted was a night to drink martinis, talk about sexy (fictional) men, and forget my problems. Unfortunately, that might be difficult as we were meeting at Jason and Franky’s place, and I was very conscious of the fact they both knew about the Husband Problem.
But this was our first get together since Franky gave birth, and she was reluctant to stray too far from her little one.
On my arrival, an adorable Cammi in a seafoam green onesie emblazoned with “Apparently I Like Hockey” on it was being passed around like a precious parcel while everyone oohed and aahed.
As I took my seat, I marveled at how something so tiny could inspire such devotion.
But then people loved tiny houses, tiny cupcakes, and tiny Japanese cleaning supplies.
I nudged Franky. “How’s the book coming along?”
“Slowly. First, I need to make sure my office is set up properly. And …” She looked at her daughter, currently being held by Summer who definitely had baby fever in those cornflower blue eyes.
“This feels like the time I should be bonding with my daughter. She might speak or do something amazing. And if Jason witnesses it and I don’t?
” She snorted her disapproval of this potential horror.
“I know your kid is probably superior in all the ways, far ahead of her peers, but she’s also barely two months. You’re not going to miss her first word. I get it, though, especially as I know what it’s like to hope Jason Isner never beats me in anything.”
That made her laugh. “How are things with you?”
“Moving along.”
She lowered her voice to a murmur. “You know we had a chat with him the other day.”
I had asked Jason to intercede, so that was good, I supposed. “Let me guess, he was a complete clam about it.”
“Well, actually …” But whatever she was about to say was interrupted by a couple of new arrivals.
Rosie was the daughter of former Rebels D-man Cade Burnett and ex-general manager Dante Moretti, as well as stepsister to Franky.
Her bestie was Adeline Kershaw, daughter of Theo and sister of my client, Hatch.
I’d known these girls all my life—I used to babysit for Rosie—and it was lovely to see them grown into such amazing young women.
“What’s up, bitches?” Rosie spied Cammi and winced. “Sorry, sis.”
“It’s okay,” Franky said. “Your niece has plenty of time to pick up your foul-mouthed habits.”
Rosie leaned over. “Oh, she’s going to adore me. Her favorite quirky aunt.” Something like sadness crossed her brow, but it vanished so quickly that I wondered if I’d imagined it.
Addy held up a shopping bag. “I have some clothes that Mabel’s outgrown.” Adeline was dating Rebels captain, Lars Nyquist, who was father to two-year-old Mabel.
“Thanks, favorite niece.” Jason took the bag from her and moved toward his daughter. “I can take her—”
A chorus of “no’s” shut down that nonsense.
“Okay, okay. But you’ll have to surrender her eventually because I don’t want my daughter to hear all that saucy talk. She’s a little sponge right now.” He headed off into the kitchen.
A moment later, I followed and found him mixing a jug of margaritas.
“Jason Isner, look at you, domesticated god.”
He grinned. “Uh, domestic, not domesticated. I’m just glad Francesca’s getting some time for herself. In case you hadn’t heard, she’s kind of a bookworm.”
“Which you love.”
He smiled. “I do. But I also want her to be fulfilled. Momhood, professionally, emotionally. So I’ll support her however I can, and if that means making excellent margaritas to fuel your filthy book talk, I’ll do it. This is a non-alcoholic version, by the way.”
Boo, but probably for the best given my Vegas drama.
I checked over my shoulder to ensure we were alone. “So, she mentioned that Alexei came over and you guys talked about the situation.”
“We did.”
I gestured with my hands. “And?”
“Franky told him he needed to stop treating you like a puppet and accept that you want out.”
“And what did he say to that?”
“That he cared about you and he wanted to see if all that had happened between you years ago still meant something.” He raised an eyebrow. “So what happened? He said he hurt you.”
He cared about me? “Kid stuff.”
“Lauren, why did I not know that you and Alexei had some sort of relationship in college?”
“Because it was nothing. Or I wanted it to be something, but he basically told me nothing more serious could ever happen between us. And then he headed to Miami and I barely spoke to him for fourteen years until Vegas.”
Jason inhaled. “I had no idea. If I’d known—”
“What would you have done? Been mean to him on the ice? Look, he was still grieving his mother, so I should cut him some slack. I know what that’s like. I didn’t appreciate the way he went about it, but it’s water under the bridge.”
“And now?”
“And now, I’m in a stable relationship with a normal, boring man.”
His eyes turned shrewd. “You think your boyfriend is boring?”
“I mean it in the best possible way. I don’t want interesting or dramatic or moody. I want something steady and lasting.” Getting hitched in Vegas after a few drinks was nothing of the sort.
But I could still be his friend because I was imbued with goodwill toward my fellow man. “What do you know about Alexei’s dad?”
“His dad? Not much other than the fact he’s living with Alexei. I told Naz to bring him over for dinner one night.”
Sounded like he didn’t know the full story about Nazarov Sr.’s dementia. It wasn’t my place to say.
“But what about his background? Didn’t he used to be a journalist in Russia?”
“Yeah, he was an anti-corruption advocate, doing investigative reports that challenged those in power. He was even imprisoned a couple of times.”
“Really?” I had no idea.
“Yeah, when Alexei was a teen, and then again not long after he started his pro career with Miami, so his second year there? That’s why he went to play in Russia. He wanted to be closer to him for visits.”
I had known nothing of this. Of course, I was aware that not long into his professional career here, he joined the Kontinental Hockey League. There had been questions about it at the time: why would he do that when his career was ramping up in the States?
“You think the Russian government had something to do with him going back?”
Jason shrugged. “I asked, but he was tight-lipped. You know how he is. But he played there for a couple of years, and then he came back, signed with Seattle, and his father moved to the US.”
“Why didn’t I know about this?”
“It’s not common knowledge, Lo. And you and Naz haven’t exactly kept in touch.”
“No, we haven’t.” And why would he ever confide in me? I was just some girl he banged in college. Close-lipped was an apt description, but even Jason knew more than I did.
Jason passed me a margarita glass and poured one out. “How did Thad take your big news?”
“With the maturity I’ve come to expect from Husband Number Two.” It had been over a week since I broke the news of my marriage, and I had barely seen my boyfriend. I had told him that until I had a firm handle on the divorce, it would be better if we didn’t stay over at each other’s places.
He didn’t object, but he had remained distant. I could have pushed for a date night, dinner, movies, cozying up on the sofa, but in truth, I preferred the space while I sorted through what was happening between us. All of us.
Before Jason could comment, I changed the subject. “Question. Has Thad ever asked you to invest in anything? A fund or something like that?”
“Not recently.”
I reared back. “So he did once?”
“Yeah, maybe before the playoffs? He recommended some crypto fund, geared toward athletes. Sounded weird, so I passed.”
“Why didn’t you mention it to me?”
“Did you not hear what I said? Playoffs, Lo.”
Once the series started, players’ brains were driven by three things: hockey, hockey, and more hockey (and in Jason’s case, a side of Franky St. James).
I wondered if anyone else I represented—or knew in the Rebels world—had been approached by my boyfriend to invest their money.
I wanted to press more but Rosie came in to swap Cammi for the pitchers, and the conversation came to an end.
Doing our due diligence, we discussed the latest New York Times bestseller about some poor unfortunate maid/nanny who gets caught up in the weirdness of her married employers. Just be a throuple, already. Then, we moved on to our other not-so-guilty pleasure.
Chicago Rebels fan fiction.
For the last year, we had been enjoying the semi-regular web entries that fictionalized the lives of hockey players who were familiar, but just different enough to not be libelous.
This team, the Chicago Renegades, with player avatars like Thatch Cockslaw and Mason Listener—shout out to my real clients, Hatch and Jason—had also won the Cup in its fictional universe and was now enjoying the summer break.
I hadn’t read this week’s entry, and maybe I was glad of it because it featured a new player on the team: Rex Maximov. No prizes for guessing who inspired this work of “fiction.”
“This author really knows how to ramp up the tension and the taboo,” Summer said. “A player and his agent. Very naughty.”
I perked up. “His agent?”
Addy chuckled. “Yeah, she’s a real ball buster. But Nazarov—I mean, Maximov—loves it.”
I opened my phone to the website where the fan fic was hosted and held my breath as I read the entry … high heels … blindfolds … something unmentionable with a leather briefcase …
Her name was Autumn Deveraux.
“Summer, that’s you!” I blurted out.
“No, no, that’s not possible,” my co-worker demurred. She assessed her phone screen while her blonde brows angled together. “Okay, so they’ve changed the first name to a different season, and Deveraux is a common name in Louisiana and Mississippi parts—”
“Just like Landry,” Franky observed.
All eyes focused on Summer. She raised a hand to her chest.
“So someone knows I’m an agent and that I’m dating a Rebels player … but Nazarov?”
“Technically, Maximov,” Rosie commented.
“What will Hatch think?” Esme asked.
Franky pushed back her glasses. “Why would he think anything? This is just fictional.”
“Immortalized in fan fiction.” On a nervous laugh, Summer caught my eye and shrugged.
I supposed I should be glad that this mystery author hadn’t figured out anything about Nazarov and me.
I couldn’t imagine it being a boon to my career.
Clients wouldn’t trust working with me if I had such a tight, personal connection with a player.
Summer was still giggling about all the naughty things she was doing with the new Russian acquisition for the Reb—uh, Renegades. My skin felt hot, my armpits damp. Was I nervous because we were talking about Nazarov’s alter ego, or was I … jealous?
Surely not. How could I be envious of a fictional character engaging in fictional sexy times with a fictional Russian hockey player? Ridiculous.
“Another margarita, Lo?” Rosie held up the pitcher.
“Please. And I think it’s time to switch to the alcoholic version.”