13. Declan #2
I avoid looking at Alex. He knows the true story too.
He was there. But I assume Astrid is not going to tell the world that our marriage was perpetuated by a long-time pact between our grandfathers.
Perhaps her closer friends know the truth, but our arranged marriage has stayed a private family matter.
She lifts a brow. “He was very…” Her eyes scan over my face, then settle on my mouth before going back to Beckett. “Determined. Bossy even. Definitely not flirty. He basically just said we need to be together.”
All of that is accurate.
I remember that day vividly. The wind was from the north. The room smelled like peppermint and vanilla. My mother’s hug, after eighteen years, nearly sent me to my knees.
And Astrid had been the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
The second I walked into that room, I’d thought, mine.
I was not leaving that island without her. And I’d behaved accordingly. Damn the consequences.
But I had been so wrapped up in how I felt about everything and my mission that I hadn’t worried about her feelings. I’d told her that I didn’t care what concerns she had. I would fix any issue and take down any roadblock.
I’d meant it.
“And you were just like ‘okay, yes sir?’” Beckett asks. “That does not seem like you.”
Laughter ripples around the table.
“It really doesn’t, does it?” Astrid asks, still studying me. “But I found it…”
My entire body tenses, waiting for her to fill in that blank.
I continue to hold her gaze even as images from that day flip through my mind.
I was definitely not flirtatious.
I was wound so tight that day that I was even more demanding than usual. I’m always direct when I want something. I don’t worry about how I’m perceived, about hurting people’s feelings, or about whether people like me. When I need or want something, I just go after it.
I wanted Astrid.
That’s what I was focused on.
But, while that works in business, in marriage maybe not so much.
I needed Astrid to marry me that day. There was no other option. I was also on my grandfather’s turf again, home after nearly two decades, seeing the family I had been estranged from for years. I was not at my best.
I’ve spent all of the months since then trying to make up for being an over-the-top asshole that day by leaving her alone and letting her do whatever she wants.
“You found it…” Beckett prompts.
“Funny,” she finally fills in. “He was really full of himself, and I was amused by how sure he was I was going to just swoon into his arms from the very first minute.”
I feel my lips twitch. She did not find it funny. Of all the emotions I read on her face that day—shock, exasperation, even anger—amusement was not one of them.
“But you did say yes to him,” Teddy points out.
She nods. “I did.”
“Why?”
“To teach him a lesson,” she says.
Several people laugh, but I can’t look away from her.
“What lesson?” Beckett asks.
I almost answer before she does. Because while she’s never said this to me, I just know it.
“That he can’t always get what he wants just because he’s hot and rich.”
I realize that I should not focus on the fact that she thinks I’m hot, but it does take me a second to move past that.
As to the lesson…well, I guess she has proven that. To a degree. I don’t have her. Not the way I’d love to. But what she doesn’t understand is that, above all else, I want her safe and happy.
“But then you married him,” Beckett says.
“I figured it was going to take a while. He’s been…entitled…for a long time.”
I feel my smile grow. “Entitled” equals “asshole” in her mind, I’m sure.
“You can still teach him lessons when you’re living thousands of miles away from him?” Lawson asks.
I continue to watch her. Is she going to admit that this is part of the lesson? That she’s here to drive me nuts? Does she even realize how crazy it makes me to have her so far away?
I stalk the town website just like my grandfather does. I also have notifications set for any mention of her hockey teams or players. I even made a deal with one of my favorite hockey journalists.
In exchange for Maggie focusing some coverage on Astrid’s new teams, I’ve given her more behind-the-scenes access to my organization and anonymously dropped her some leads on other stories in the league.
It’s been a win-win-win. It’s given Astrid and her players more exposure.
It’s also raised Maggie’s profile as more and more people follow the unique take on hockey.
And, thankfully, it’s given me insight into what’s going on in Rebel that I wouldn't have had otherwise.
Astrid nods. “Oh yeah. I’m here to show him how hockey should be. To show the entire pro-league how it should be. To prove that diversity, gender equality, accountability, and a fan-focused approach all work.”
Lawson holds up his hands. “I’m on your side, boss.”
She shrugs and looks over at me. “Besides, I can do whatever I want. He basically lets me have my way no matter what.”
I study her as Beckett says, “Great, sounds like I can still be audacious and annoying.” He gives me a smirk. “No offense.”
I just shrug.
“So, all I have to do is say, you’re mine, as long as I worship her and let her get away with everything after that.” He writes those words on another paper placemat with a green crayon. He nods. “Can do.”
Well, he got the worship part right.
But Astrid shakes her head. “Don’t do that.”
Beckett lifts his head, and I pause with my fork partway to my mouth.
“Don’t worship her?” Beckett asks.
“Don’t just leave her alone.” She pauses.
Then shakes her head. “I mean, yes, let her be herself. Let her do her own thing. And if she wants you to leave her alone, of course, do. But…don’t just leave her alone unless she tells you that’s what she wants.
” She stops and frowns. “Talk to her about what matters to her. Ask about it. Be interested in her and why she’s doing what she’s doing, even if it’s away from you. ”
“Right.” Beckett’s gaze flickers back and forth between us. “Got it.”
The other guys around the table start giving Beckett advice and telling him how they met and convinced their wives to go out with them.
Zeke tells him about how he crashed his motorcycle in front of his future wife, had a hot one-night stand with her, and then found out she was living next door, so basically just never left her alone again.
“Stalking. Harassment,” Beckett jokes, picking up a red crayon. “Putting those on the list.”
But I barely hear any of it.
All I can focus on are my wife’s words.
Don’t just leave her alone.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Beckett puts down the crayon. “I just need to keep following her around like a puppy and never let her forget how much I want her. Or how charming and hot I am. Piece of cake.”
Never let her forget how much I want her.
Yes, that’s great advice.
And the opposite of what I’ve been doing for months with Astrid.