Chapter 13 Boone #2
She’s wearing a fitted maroon dress that molds to her body tightly paired with long, black boots that reach up to her knees leaving just a sliver of skin between where the dress hem ends and boots begin.
“Sure, if she doesn’t mind.”
Rosie bites her lip for a moment then nods, before stepping forward and sliding into the open seat next to me.
“First up, thanks for joining us and congratulations on marrying the Mayhem's most eligible bachelor," the interviewer says.
Rosie nods with a confident smile. "Of course, and thank you. He's quite a catch."
My hand finds hers almost on instinct, squeezing it under the table where no one else can see. Unlike dinner this past weekend, she only flinches for a moment before settling into my grip and I like how it feels to hold her.
"So, tell us, what do you think about Boone's contract being up in one more year and the decision that he'll need to make regarding staying in the sport if the Mayhem decide to offer an extension?"
Rosie tilts her head slightly, her smile remaining steady, but I can feel the subtle tension that’s now in her hand.
“Well, I think that’s a decision for Boone, and his team to discuss, when the time comes.”
The interviewer raises a brow, clearly intrigued. “I'm sure you're aware that Boone’s last engagement ended, as we understand it, because his fiancé wanted him to retire from the sport to start a family. With such a demanding career, has that been a topic of conversation between the two of you?”
I feel Rosie’s hand tighten around mine slightly.
Her composure above the table is flawless, though.
“That’s a very personal question,” she says, her tone measured.
“Boone and I are focused on building a strong foundation for our marriage right now. We both have demanding careers, but we’re taking things one step at a time. ”
I can see the interviewer shift, clearly looking for a way to push further to get more information from her. “Fair enough. Boone, care to add to that? How do you balance the pressures of your career with the possibility of Rosie wanting a family someday?”
I lean forward slightly, locking eyes with the interviewer. “Like Rosie said, we’re focused on the present. I’ve got a season to finish and goals to hit on the ice, and Rosie’s got her own career to focus on.”
"Hm..." the interviewer hums and I can tell this isn't over yet. "Rosie, what’s your favorite thing about being married to Boone?”
Rosie hesitates for only a moment before answering, her voice soft but confident.
“I’d say it’s how genuine he is. Boone’s not just an incredible athlete; he’s kind, thoughtful, and the people in his life speak highly of him.
That's how I knew he was a good man when we were getting to know each other. The people he surrounds himself with speak to his character.”
I feel a pang in my chest at her words, unsure if she’s laying it on for the cameras or if there’s a thread of truth in what she’s saying. Either way, it works, because the interviewer beams.
“That’s high praise, Boone. How does it feel to hear that from your wife?”
I look at Rosie, her gaze meeting mine, and for a moment, I forget we’re sitting in front of a camera. “Feels like I’ve already won, no matter what happens on the ice.”
The interviewer smiles warmly, clearly charmed by the exchange. “Well, thank you both for taking the time to chat with us today. Best of luck with the rest of the season and your new marriage.”
I nod, “Thank you.” And before I can stop myself, I lean forward, my gaze locking on Rosie’s lips. They look so soft, plush, and impossible to ignore.
For a second, it feels natural, like the most obvious thing in the world. Her eyes widen, and just as my mouth is about to meet hers, she tilts her head away. Instead of a kiss, I end up pressing my lips to her temple, lingering there a moment longer than I should, because what the hell am I doing?
“Thank you,” Rosie says, her voice only wavering slightly as she slips her hand out from under mine beneath the table.
Her smile stays plastered on her face, but I can feel the tension that’s radiating off her as she stands. I follow her lead, standing behind her as we walk out of the room and into the hallway.
“A word. In private,” she says, still smiling for anyone who might be watching. Her tone is sweet, but the undercurrent is sharp enough to cut through steel.
I know I’ve screwed up. That almost kiss was way off-script, and I totally pushed my luck and went outside the bounds of our agreement.
But for a moment in there, sitting next to her, talking about the things we liked about each other, everything felt so… natural. It felt like I was having an interview with my wife.
Rosie finds an empty training room, opens the door, and pulls me inside with more strength than I expected from a woman her size. The door clicks shut, and she twists the lock, spinning around to face me with fire in her brown eyes.
“You can’t do that, Boone!”
“I know.” I drag a hand down my face, already regretting it. “It was a reflex.”
Her brows shoot up. “A reflex? To kiss me? That’s a weird reflex to have. I think things like gagging and coughing are reflexes, not kisses.”
“Maybe,” I admit because what else can I say? I’m not even sure why I did it.
Her expression softens for a split second, but then she shakes her head, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper.
“Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if you’d succeeded at kissing me? My dad would’ve murdered you on the spot. And after that, he’d fire you. Then Caleb would fire you too. You’d be out of a job and probably out of hockey altogether.”
“Because I'd be dead?"
Her lips twitch into the slightest smile before she sighs heavily. "You have to take this seriously."
"I know,” I say again, quieter this time. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” I want it to.
Rosie sighs, the frustration in her eyes dimming just slightly. She steps back, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. Then just like that, her expression shifts, slipping into lawyer mode as if the last five minutes and the kind things she said about me hadn’t happened.
“So, this weekend. Another game?”
I blink, thrown off by the abrupt change in her tone. “Yeah. Friday night.”
She nods, tapping her finger against her arm. “Okay. I’ll see you there.”
Wait, what? Does she not remember that we live together now? Won't we see each other way before then?
But before I can say anything, she turns and unlocks the door. Without another glance my way, she walks out, leaving me alone in the empty room with nothing but my thoughts, and a sinking feeling in my chest that somehow, I'm going to fuck this all up.