Chapter 6
Will
Clarke searched my hotel room like a woman on a mission.
She looked under the bed, between the sheets, and even in trash cans for her cell phone.
We searched the place from top to bottom, leaving no part of the room untouched.
The room was already a wreck from the crazy sex we’d had the night before, which didn’t make it any easier for us to comb through.
“I’m so fucked.” Clarke fisted her hair in her hands. “The notes I took for my current assignment are on that phone.”
“Did you back it up to the cloud?”
She stared at me like I’d grown another head, surprised I knew about anything other than hockey and sex. “I don’t know. I usually sync my phone with my computer each night. But I got drunk on the plane, and then… Well, you know what happened after that. I hadn’t planned on getting so trashed.”
“Nothing you can do about it now than retrace your steps.”
Clarke sat on the rumpled bed, deflated as our eyes met. “What do you remember about last night?”
I rolled my shoulders. “Not much after we left the strip club.”
“You weren’t as drunk as me.”
“I’m good at hiding it.”
“I need that phone back, or I’m screwed.”
“Hotels usually have lost and found boxes.”
“What’s the chance someone was nice and turned it over to security?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Probably not much. This is Sin City.”
She bit her bottom lip, which she did when thinking, but I found it incredibly sexy.
“Do you have your phone?”
I removed it from my pocket and held it up for her. And that was when I noticed tons of notifications. As expected, I had dozens of texts and missed phone calls from my parents, friends, and teammates.
So much for cleaning up my act.
“What the fuck?” I muttered as I scrolled down the screen.
Clarke slid across the bed until our thighs touched. “Did you find something?”
I opened Instagram and saw hundreds of unanswered DMs and even more comments.
We scrolled through my feed together. From the looks of it, I documented our drunken night well.
It started with the usual pictures from dinner and a few shots of me with the guys.
I even got a little sappy and talked about my long-time best friend and his upcoming nuptials.
But that was the best of the bunch.
As our night progressed, I took pictures of Clarke and me.
We were both so fucking wasted we shut our eyes in most of them.
I uploaded shots of Elvis walking Clarke down the aisle at the chapel.
Someone took pics of us kissing after we said I do.
The chapel was tacky and decorated like a throwback from the sixties.
But no one could deny that we looked happy together.
When she wasn’t yelling at me, Clarke made me happy.
I groaned at the reality of the situation. This would only piss off my team manager and the new publicist more. She was adamant about me not drawing attention to myself. And yet again, I had fucked up royally. At least we were in the off-season, so I had time to figure this out.
“I need to remember to leave my phone at home on nights I drink.”
Clarke took my phone and read through the comments. “I can’t believe women write this kind of shit to you. Where everyone can see it.”
She pointed at one comment: Romeo has a face I’d love to ride.
Clarke laughed. “These women are so gross.”
“Then avoid my DMs because those are much worse.”
She gave me a curious look. “Do you mind?”
“Why not? What’s mine is yours.”
Clarke laughed, cringed, and even screamed at direct messages from women desperate to hook up with me.
“Oh, my God.” She threw the phone onto the bed like it was diseased. “That was a wet vagina. What the hell is wrong with these women?”
“Now you see why you’ve made it this long.”
She frowned. “I wouldn’t consider us fucking any crowning achievement in either of our lives.”
“No, but you’re the only woman I’ve spent this much time with.”
“Are you still trying to convince me to stay married to you?”
I gave her one of my boyish smiles that melted panties. “Would you? I’m fucked if you don’t.”
She pressed her lips together, deep in thought.
“The entire world now knows we got married. It would be even more scandalous if we got it annulled.”
Her eyes met mine. “Say I agree to this. What’s in it for me?”
I covered her hand with mine, holding it against the mattress. “What do you want?”
She glanced out the window at the Vegas skyline and sighed. Nerves bubbled in my chest as we sat in complete silence. A few minutes passed before she turned to look at me.
“I want a real commitment. No bullshit. I want to know the real you, not Romeo or some fake persona you created for fans. Just you. Will Roman.”
Her confession sent a shiver down my arms. No one had ever asked that of me. Sure, women wanted to date me, but that was because they had ulterior motives. They wanted either money or fame or both. But Clarke wanted me. And not just sex with me, a relationship.
“You could have asked for anything. Pay off your student loans, a million dollars, whatever. I would have said yes to just about anything.”
“Money has no value to me. And I don’t have student loans. My dad is somewhat famous, remember? We had plenty of money.”
“Live with me. Make it official. You okay with that?”
“I’m not getting rid of my apartment in DC. My job depends on me being in the capital.”
“Married people live together,” I pointed out.
“Will, I’m a political correspondent. I have to follow the action. Why don’t you move in with me?”
I contemplated my schedule for the first half of the year and nodded. “I guess I could make that work. I’ll stay in Philly when I have practice and home games. And I want you to stay with me when you can.”
“You travel a lot, anyway. I doubt we’ll see each other much.”
“I also want you to come to some of my games.”
“Don’t get mad when you play the Caps because I’ll cheer for my home team.”
I wrapped my arm around her and rubbed the top of her head. “You’re such a brat.”
She wiggled in my arms, laughing and shouting as I tickled her. I loved this and how I felt when I was with her. Clarke pushed back, kicking me as she struggled to break free.
“At some point, we have to get an annulment.”
Her words sucked the air from my lungs. Of course, that was the plan. But I wasn’t on board with it.
“Before we do this, we need to come to terms. Three months, that’s all I’m willing to give you.”
I had no plans of letting Clarke go. She didn’t know it yet, but I was playing for keeps. After years of hating me, I wanted her to know the real me. And I wanted to know the real Clarke, not the woman who only tolerated me for sex.
She was afraid of men. That much I had gathered over the years. Too many men had hurt her, and I was one of them. But I wanted to change, to show her I was not another statistic in her life.
I extended my hand. “Do we have a deal?”
“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”
She bit her lip and sighed as we shook hands.
“I have an idea to find your phone,” I told her. “Have you ever seen the movie The Hangover?”
She chuckled. “You’re joking, right? Who hasn’t?”
“We’ll use my Instagram to piece together our night.”
“It’s a crazy idea. But what do I have to lose?”
Nothing.