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Gianna just shrugged, giggling.
Erika was so glad she’d started this conversation. It felt good to be able to talk to other women about stuff like this.
“Alex was the king of playboys back in his day,” Charley said. “Blake looks like a choirboy in comparison.”
“Sounds like Tank,” Erika observed.
Charley nodded, giving her a look that proved she agreed with that assessment. “Mother Nature had nothing to do with converting my guy.”
“What did?” Erika asked.
“Alcohol. The two of us got shit-faced at a friend’s wedding in Vegas and eloped. We even enjoyed a drunken honeymoon in his hotel suite.”
Erika’s eyes widened. She knew Alex and Charley had grown up as neighbors, even playing on the same youth hockey leagues. She had always assumed they’d been childhood sweethearts. “Whoa.”
“Right? I woke up the next morning hungover and looking for an annulment.”
“You were looking for an annulment? Not Alex?” Gianna asked.
“That’s the crazy part. Alex took me to that wedding as a favor to his sister. He wasn’t looking for a relationship because he still considered himself God’s gift to women.”
Erika was struggling to follow Charley’s story. “So why didn’t the two of you get the annulment?”
“Alex refused at first, proclaiming he wanted more honeymoon.” Charley grimaced. “I’m not proud to say that was a hard request to refuse because the sex…” She winked.
“The sex…” Gianna said with a happy sigh, glancing over her shoulder at Elio.
“Yeah,” Erika agreed, perfectly aware that her days of being able to resist Blake’s charms were over, now that she knew he wasn’t one of those all-hat-and-no-cattle guys.
“I think the trick, Erika, isn’t to listen to what Blake is saying. It’s to watch what he’s doing. I thought Alex wanted to stay married because the sex between us was great. But then he started showing me in a bunch of subtle, special ways that I was different from the other women in his past.”
“You mean that even though Blake says he likes being a bachelor, that might not be true?” Erika hadn’t considered that, but when she replayed the last few months, starting with the night they’d found Corky, she realized there had been quite a few changes in their relationship.
Blake had stopped bringing home puck bunnies, had stopped going to the pub after every win. He texted her more often, came home with sweet treats or a bottle of wine if she’d had a rough day at the hospital as a pick-me-up, and whenever he looked at her…
She felt beautiful.
Then she recalled the “masturbation lesson.” The way he held her when she was scared or sad. The way he managed to cheer her up at her lowest points. The way he’d acted so jealous of Doug.
“Oh my God,” Erika whispered. “Blake is my boyfriend! I think he has been for a while.”
Gianna and Charley laughed, waving their hands in a jazz-hands cheer. “Yay!”
“So, I’ll say it again,” Charley said, leaning close to her. “The two of you are perfect for each other.”
Erika enjoyed the third period of the game more than the first two—even though the game was a nailbiter—mainly because she was ready for what came after. She wasn’t sure if Blake was prepared to admit what they were to each other, but that didn’t matter. Because she was prepared to convince him. No wasn’t an option here.
She was in love with her neighbor, her best friend, Blake.
And she couldn’t wait to tell him.
Unfortunately, Murphy’s Law wasn’t finished kicking her around just yet. Five minutes before the final buzzer, the score was tied once more, and Pittsburgh had a power play. Erika wasn’t sure she’d taken a breath in the last thirty seconds as the opposing team fired off three shots, almost consecutively. Mercifully, Coulton saved every single one.
Just before the power play ended, Erika’s phone buzzed with an incoming call. She frowned when she saw her mom’s name on the screen. Her parents knew she was at the game.
She started to let it go to voicemail, but then she thought better of it. Her parents had met and married late in life, which was one of the reasons she was an only child. Mom had been forty-five when she had Erika, her dad nearly fifty. With them now in their late seventies, Erika couldn’t in good conscience ignore their phone call, even if she did suspect it was a butt dial.
“Mom?” she said, placing one finger in her ear as she rose from her seat. She could hear her mom talking but couldn’t make out what she was saying.
