Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EMMETT
The way Lloyd’s is packed to the rafters is like a baptism of fire for my single status. If we weren’t holed up in the private section, we definitely wouldn’t have seats.
Don’t get me wrong; I’ve been out before with the guys, but never without a “curfew” in place or one hand on my pocket, feeling for the familiar vibration of Maria’s call.
“It’s like a freaking cattle market in here,” Jensen Jones’s wife, Kate, yells across the booth.
We’re only sitting a few feet apart, and even then it’s hard to hold a conversation.
Christ, I’m fucking old.
While most of the twenty-somethings in this bar are approaching the resident DJ—that none of us had any idea would be playing tonight—requesting songs, I’m tempted to head over and ask him to turn whatever shit he has spinning down so I can at least keep my hearing.
I nod over at Kate. Other than her being in her early forties with blonde hair and blue eyes, I don’t know all that much about Jensen’s wife.
“If this is what I can expect on the rare nights out we get, I’m calling a hard pass, right here, right now,” she huffs out to Felicity.
Literally everyone is out tonight, reaffirming that I was right to make the effort and put on a white button-down and black jeans. It would’ve looked bad if I hadn’t shown, even if I’m already counting down the minutes until I can leave.
Jack sets a beer down in front of me and Sawyer before sliding two more across to Archer and Tommy. “These are on the house. Apparently, an anonymous Blades fan picked up the round.”
“Can’t be much of a fan if they’re plying my team with booze,” Coach puffs out, earning an eye roll from Jensen.
He picks up his own beer and takes a large pull, setting it down on a satisfied exhale. “I personally think the beer tastes better in Brooklyn. Or maybe I just got tired of the same bars in Seattle.”
“Loud music and beers aside …” Felicity wraps an arm around Kate’s shoulders, pulling her into her side.
They couldn’t look any more different since Felicity has dark brown hair, but you can tell that they’ve been friends for years.
“I’m just happy to have my friend back with me.
Killing it in the New York office together while we make plans to take over the world.
” She winks at Kate as they share an inside joke.
Kate looks mildly placated by her friend, her frown tipping into a smile. “If the twins hate it, I’m heading back to Seattle.”
“Umm, and what about me?” Jensen interjects. “I just signed a permanent coaching contract with the Blades.”
Picking up her wine, Kate takes a casual sip, eyeing Coach Morgan carefully. She sets the glass back down and casts her eyes around the table. “Listen, there’s no such thing as a watertight contract.”
She fixes her eyes on her husband, and I watch the way he visibly melts.
Damn. He has it bad for her.
“You married a lawyer, JJ.” She addresses her husband, using a nickname that makes him beam. “You should know how contracts truly work.”
Silence falls across the table, and I take it as my cue to leave. As much as I appreciate a beer bought by a stranger, the anti-inflammatories I’m taking for my knee do not mix well with alcohol.
Approaching the bar, I raise a hand and request a soda from the bartender, pulling out my phone when I feel a vibration in my pocket.
I flip my cell over, knowing it isn’t from Maria and I won’t need to cancel my drink order.
Billie
So, guess what.
A smile tugs at my lips as the bartender slides a soda into my hand.
Me
You tried on the fluffy socks, and they were actually amazing.
Billie
No, they made my swollen feet way too hot. The lavender bath salts, on the other hand, were an unexpected triumph. Bravo.
Me
Was that actually why you messaged me?
Billie
No. My water just broke.
I fight to keep the sip of soda I just took inside my mouth.
Me
Jesus Christ. Is Freya home?
Billie
Yes. I don’t need another ride to the hospital, so don’t panic. But I thought you’d want to know I’m in an early labor, and it really isn’t that bad so far. Although give it a few hours, and you’ll probably hear my screams.
Me
Unlikely. I can barely hear anything in this bar.
It’s difficult to describe the feeling as I hit Send on my last message. All I know is it feels uneasy, maybe even unnatural, and I don’t like it.
Billie
Taking advantage of the single life now that Maria isn’t keeping tabs on you?
Me
Aren’t you in labor?
I let the Maria comment slide. Billie’s conclusions are right even if I’ve no idea how she reached them.
Billie
Apparently, I need to distract my mind and relax so the contractions progress.
Me
And you thought that you’d achieve that by messaging me?
Billie
Right? What was I thinking?
Me
If you must know, I was dragged out by my teammates, and I’m standing by the bar, drinking a soda.
Billie
Party on, old man.
Me
Brat.
Billie
But seriously, you’re standing on your own in the bar? Surely, you have women surrounding you from every angle now that the world knows that Emmett Richards is officially back on the market.
I should probably pocket my phone and ignore Billie’s last text.
That’s definitely what I should do.
Me
What are you trying to insinuate, Miss Quinn? I’m old and a little slow on the uptake.
I chug the rest of my soda, gripping my phone tightly in my palm as I watch Billie type and then stop, and then begin typing again. My heart hammers in my chest, excitement sparking through me for the first time since I can remember.
Technically, I’m doing nothing wrong. Realistically, I’m walking a tightrope.
Billie
Don’t play dumb, Emmett. You know precisely what I’m saying. Or have you not caught sight of your reflection before?
I decide to take Billie’s message as the compliment it is.
Me
Don’t make me blush in public, please. I’m trying to come off as cool in a sea of twenty-something adults.
Billie
Well, take it from a twenty-something woman—you’re cool. And you should definitely have a good time tonight. Switch up your soda for a beer to start.
Speaking to Jack about my injury was like pulling teeth, but my fingers move across the keyboard with ease. As easy as it would be to glide them through Billie’s soft waves.
Me
Truthfully, I’m not drinking alcohol because I can’t. My knee isn’t the best, and I’m self-medicating.
Billie knows all about what I went through.
While we didn’t speak much when she was in college, I do remember her making one frantic phone call to me when news broke of the injury, along with images of me in a knee brace.
Over and over, she repeated that my career wasn’t through and that I’d come back stronger.
My smile grows broader at the memory.
Billie
I don’t like any part of your last message. What do you mean “self-medicating”? Are you seeing the trainer?
Me
Has anyone ever told you that you’re bossy as shit?
Billie
Shut up and answer my questions.
I throw my head back, laughter bursting out of me.
“Who’s got you all worked up?”
A familiar female voice I haven’t heard in weeks pulls me back into the room, blaring music filling my eardrums once more.
I slip my cell into my pocket before Maria gets a chance to read Billie’s name.
“What are you doing here?” I automatically ask, turning to take in my ex-wife.
She looks nice in a long-sleeved black dress that hits just above her knee, along with knee-high black leather boots.
But despite the way she looks or how beautiful she is, nothing about her presence changes the regular beat of my heart.
I remember a time when I could barely breathe when she walked into a room.
And now? Now it feels like I’m scrambling for words because there’s nothing more left to say.
We just … died.
“Here with some work friends,” she replies, tossing her long, dark hair over one shoulder.
A waft of familiar perfume hits me, but again, I feel nothing.
I’m tempted to point out that she rarely did that when we were married, let alone show up at a place where she knew my teammates and their partners hung out. But what’s the point? All it would do was create tension and draw out a conversation that I already want to bring to an end.
Maria hesitates for a beat, brown eyes searching mine.
“Are you dating, Emmett?”
If the bar wasn’t directly behind me, I’d take a step back to create some space between us.
“I don’t see how that has anything to do with you, Maria,” I volley back.
She steels her shoulders, ready to double down. I can predict her next move from a mile away.
“I’d just like to know what’s going on”—she tips her chin at the pocket holding my phone—“so I can be prepared for whatever supermodel you’re pictured with next week.”
Closing my eyes, I remind myself that nothing good can come from arguing with her. We’re divorced and belong in each other’s past.
“I’m not seeing anyone, Maria.”
She scoffs lightly and lifts a champagne glass to her lips, taking a small sip. Her eyes dart briefly to my group of friends. They could’ve been her friends, too, if she’d given them a chance.
“But you will be soon.”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
I couldn’t care less, but I’ll do anything to remove the spotlight. It’s hard to believe that I’m talking to a woman in her mid-thirties who flies planes for a living. Confidence should ooze from her.
“I’ve been on a few dates,” she says, swirling the bubbles around in her glass.
If she’s trying to make me jealous, then she isn’t succeeding, only underlining a level of hypocrisy I didn’t think she was capable of.
Done with this conversation, I point at my teammates, noticing Jack is keeping a watchful eye on us. I’m sure he’s thinking the same thing as me: What the fuck is she doing here?
“Well, it was great to see you and everything, but I’ve got a group of friends waiting for me,” I confirm.
Her stony face softens a fraction. I know she’s been hurt by the divorce as much as I have. The difference is, I know the only way to move on and heal is to do exactly that.
“Billie just went into labor.”
Her words stop me in my tracks, and I spin on my heel to face her.
Maybe it’s just my imagination or my mind playing tricks on me, but I swear I catch a smile as it momentarily pulls at her lips.
“I know,” I tell her. “Scott got in touch.”
I turn over my shoulder to look at my friends again, and Jack is still fixated on us both.
“Is that all, or did you need something else?”
She just shrugs, taking another sip of champagne. I don’t like the way she’s acting, but, hey, that’s nothing new.
“No, that’s all I need to know. Have a great night, Emmett, and enjoy your free drinks. I’ll likely catch you sometime after the baby arrives.”