Chapter 24
OLIVIA
I love when people say be the bigger person . . .
Sorry, no. That won’t work for me.
Don’t think I’ll be doing that.
—Olivia’s Secret Thoughts
Waverly stands on one side of me with Serena on the other as we follow Jasper into the New Jersey Nobles arena ahead of the game. No one says a word at first, not until—
“Olivia . . . Is it true you and Logan Adler are married?”
And that was all it takes for the damn to break and the flood to rush in.
“Olivia—are you pregnant? Did your family force you and Adler to get married?
“Who’s the baby’s father?”
“Do I look pregnant?” I grunt at Serena, who squeezes my hand and tugs me forward.
“Come on,” Jasper says as he wraps an arm around my shoulders. “If you were pregnant, your tits would be bigger anyway.”
“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath while I try not to laugh.
“Just saying what we were all thinking,” he admits with an honest to God smile.
“Nope. Pretty sure that was just you, big brother.” Leave it to Waverly to actually say what we were all thinking.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I ask as he ushers the three of us ahead of him into the arena.
“A little,” he smirks.
“Watch and learn, Langley.”
I stop and slip off my jacket, handing it to Jasper, then walk in front of the press with as blindingly brilliant a smile as I have to give.
“Thank you all so much for coming to the first game of the season. It should be an amazing game between my two favorite teams.” I manage to get out to the cacophony of shouts and cameras flashing that I can only imagine means my outfit is working.
Short tailored navy-blue shorts, navy-blue Louboutins, and my husband’s baby-blue Nobles jersey doesn’t look half bad on me.
And when I wave my hand, making sure to wiggle my fingers, especially thatfinger, the beautiful diamond does just what it’s supposed to and catches the light, creating a quick prism of color and an even quicker reaction from the crowd.
“I’d like to officially say Logan Adler has no comment on the status of his marriage.
And as for me . . .” I turn around for them to get a look at my jersey, then peek over my shoulder. “Go, Nobles.”
So many voices yell at once that I lose track of who’s who. Not that it matters. I don’t answer any of them. Instead, I link my arm with Serena’s—my soul sister, who’s wearing our cousin Cohen’s Revolution jersey—and head for the elevators that will take us to the visiting owner’s box.
When we get to the top of the concourse, I stop Jasper and Waverly. “Would you guys like to meet my family?”
“No,” Jasper groans at the same time as Waverly grins. “Sure.”
“Cheer up, Jasper. They’re not that bad.” Serena smiles. “I mean, my mom’s not. But I guess my dad and Liv’s mom are.”
Yeah . . . Understatement.
“Remind me why your whole family is here?” Waverly asks, actually interested as we make our way down the hall.
“Okay, quick rundown.” Serena smiles. “My dad and Olivia’s mom run King Corp., our family’s company. King Corp. owns the Philadelphia Revolution and the Philadelphia Kings. My dad runs the Revolution, Scarlet—”
“My mom,” I add.
“Scarlet runs the Kings,” Serena tells Waves and Jasper. “And because we’re not above nepotism, I think we have what . . .”—she looks at me like she’s counting cousins in her head— “what do we have now? Four cousins who play for the team?”
“Three, but who’s counting? And is it really nepotism, though, if they were good enough to be drafted?” I ask, and Jasper laughs.
“Good enough or have the right last name?” Jasper argues. “Two completely different things.”
I drop my hand to my brother-in-law’s chest and grin. “If you can honestly say they’re not good enough by the end of the game tonight, I’ll feed the cows for a week.”
“Game on, Adler. Those shiny new boots of yours are about to get dirty.” Jasper stares at me, waiting for a comeback that never comes. “Olivia?”
“I think you broke her,” Waverly stage-whispers, and I blink. “You okay, Liv?”
“You just called me Adler . . .” I answer, still clearly in shock.
Jasper shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looks away. “It’s your last name, isn’t it?”
“You know what . . . ?” Emotion fills my chest and clogs my throat. “It is.”
“Okay, you two,” Serena pushes us along. “I’d like to see the puck drop, and we’ve already missed warm-ups, so let’s move.”
“What’s up with this? You get nicer and blondie gets bitchy?” Jasper asks, and I shove him ahead. “Is this like The Twilight Zone?”
“No, you ass,” Serena snaps. Something she’s been on the edge of doing all day leading up to now. “Now move.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he snarks, and she shakes her head.
My phone vibrates in my pocket as I follow her down the concourse, and I pull it out to check.
Logan
Where are you?
You’ve been ignoring my calls.
Are you okay?
Are you here?
Shit. I hadn’t realized I’d missed so many texts.
The whistle blows, and Serena squeaks.
Son of a bitch, we’re about to miss the damn game.
“So . . .” Brynlee slides up next to where I stand in the corner of the box, watching Logan attack the ice. “I thought you were splitting your time between our box and your seats, but you haven’t moved.”
I shrug and look at Jasper and Waverly seated in front of the glass. “The Nobles are winning, so they didn’t want to move. You’re married to a coach. You know hockey superstitions better than anyone, Brynnie.”
“Yeah. Maybe that’s why I want you to go,” she teases. “My husband is going to be insanely pissed if we don’t win this game.”
I nod and keep my eyes glued to Logan as he circles the back of the net and passes the puck to Rafe before slamming one of our cousins into the boards.
Damn. That had to hurt.
“Sorry, not sorry,” I whisper, unwilling to look away.
What I said earlier about that man in a suit—I was wrong. I see it now. The reason everyone loves hockey players. Because ho-ly hotness, Batman. My panties are soaked. Who knew the physicality of this game would be like two straight hours of foreplay?
Apparently not me.
But I do now.
“What are you girls smiling about?” Mom asks as she stops behind us, a martini in one hand and her cell phone glued to the other.
Brynlee shoulder-bumps me. “Pretty sure Livvy just figured out how hot it can be to watch your husband out there on the ice.”
“Oh, honey,” Mom laments and hands me her martini. “Drink this. You’ve got at least another two hours before you can jump that man. We’ve got the whole third period. Then press—”
“Mother,” Brynn screeches. “Eww.”
“Brynlee, honey, do you think I don’t want my daughters to have healthy sex lives? It’s the cornerstone of any solid relationship. Your father and I—”
“Oh my God, no.” I gag. “Stop.”
“For the love of the fucking hockey gods, Mom,” Brynlee grumbles.
“Girls, one day when you’re my age, you’ll be as thankful for a good pregame quickie as I am.
Until then, just be glad I convinced your father to let your husbands live.
You all like to tease me for my overprotective tendencies.
But seriously, your father used to beat men bloody in a giant cage.
Did you honestly think he’d just accept that men were looking at his baby girls naked? ”
“For fuck’s sake, Mom . . . what has gotten into you tonight?” I screech, then lower my voice when all the conversation in the box dies, and everyone stares at me. Oops. “We don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what, darling? Talk about sex? Because we most certainly do. Isn’t that right, Brynnie?”
“I mean . . . you don’t usually tell me about Dad and you.”
The buzzer sounds, alerting us to the end of the second period, and I swallow the rest of the martini and hand Mom back the empty glass. “It’s been fun, ladies. Let’s not do this again.”
I step out of the front of the box and stop behind Waverly and Jasper’s seats. “Do you guys want to go to your normal spots?”
“Fuck no.” Jasper grins. “We’re winning.”
Yeah . . . That’s what I thought.
“You had to go and marry the captain of our biggest rivals, Livvy?” Uncle Max asks as we watch the last two minutes of the clock count down.
The Nobles are up by three, but anything could happen, so I’m not about to jinx us by assuming.
“That husband of yours is on fire. I’ve never seen him play like this before, and he’s been on my radar for years. ”
“Oh yeah?” I grin up at my uncle and cross my arms over my chest. Max Kingston has this way of sucking the oxygen from every room he walks in.
He’s larger than life and has that kind of magnetic personality that draws people to him, even if the only people he’s ever wanted to surround himself with are his family and small circle of friends.
“And why has he been on your radar, Uncle Max?”
“You asking as his wife or his agent?” Max grins before turning back to the ice and side-eyeing me.
“Wife. I’m not his agent.” Something that is definitely not changing any time soon.
“He’s a leader, Liv. He’s that player. The one who stands out.
He leads his team. He plays harder. Skates faster.
Scores more. He’s been doing it since he was in college.
The first time I saw him skate was against Cohen when Kroydon U played Boston U.
And when he lined up against Cohen, I knew we were in for a hell of a game. ”
“If he’s so good, how come you didn’t take him in the draft?” I ask, curious but also relieved. Pretty sure everything played out the way it was supposed to.
“He was gone by the time we got to him. The Nobles had gotten to him first. Rumor was he and Langley were a package deal. They wanted to play together, and the Nobles got the package.” Max smiles as Hendrix Sinclair slams Logan into the boards, but Logan gets off fast and gets the puck right back.
Holy shit.
It’s a breakaway.
He goes right.
Left.
Gets by Hendrix and two other players.
The goal’s wide open. One-on-one with the goalie.
“Come on, Adler,” I chant and feel Max shaking his head.
The clock counts down.
Three.
Logan pulls back.
Two.