Page 29
The saying about life being handed on a silver platter springs to mind.
“Us. You and me. Our relationship. Are we going to be one of those couples who respect the workplace and keep things strictly professional? This is my preference, FYI. Or will you be sweet and attentive? I’ll need to know so I don’t vomit in my mouth. Or will you keep up this bickering bickersome thing we have going and people will think we must be dynamite between the sheets given the level of sexual tension between us?”
He laughs loudly, startling me.
“To be clear, the final option is my least favorite. I’m not sure I’m that good at acting,” I say.
He opens his mouth as if he’s about to speak, then checks his road positioning and shakes his head. “How about we do what feels natural? I hate to state the obvious but you have actually worked with a guy you were in a serious relationship with for years.”
I scoff. “Yeah and look how that turned out. No, we need a plan. Professional or sweet, that’s the choice.”
“You’re giving me a choice in something? Jesus fucking Christ, should I take you to the ER? You must be running a fever.”
“Ha fucking ha, Jax. Let’s just keep it professional. No need to speak to me unless it’s impossible not to and if that’s the case, be… nice.”
It’s not long to suffer the silence that follows because we pull into the players’ and staff parking lot at the arena. I climb out of the car, straighten my outfit and look up to the sponsor sign that stands out against the imposing arena.
I’ve been here many times before, to catch games, meet players, attend events, and to see Mitch. But his shoes suddenly seem very big to fill. I can’t let him down.
“Hey, Sienna?” Jax calls across the car as he bleep-bleeps it locked.
“Yeah?”
“You’re going to crush it. Have fun.”
I’m left staring after him as he backs up, then turns to walk to the locker rooms. I’m crushing something… aesthetically only.
The vibration of my phone steals my attention from Jax’s butt cheeks and I take it from my purse to see Carl’s name on the screen. My slay mood is instantly zapped.
For a moment, I think I’ll answer. I’m going to answer. Then I run through the mental list of reasons he could be reaching out:
He’s seen the minion wedding and would like to pass derogatory comment.
He’s heard about the wedding and would like to make fun of me marrying one of hockey’s most renowned playboys.
He wants to offer empty words of apology for tearing out my heart and using it as a sex toy to get our secretary off.
He wants to refute my restrictive covenants.
He needs my help because it’s Monday morning and he has realized that I did, in fact, run our business.
He wants to apologize profusely for calling the fucking immigration office behind my back.
I cancel the call. Sadly, the fine behind I was watching has disappeared into the arena, along with my confidence. In its wake, I have imposter syndrome and trepidation.
13
SEPTEMBER
Jax
Mrs Harris
I’m braced for a hell of a lot of chirping from the guys as I enter the locker room. We’re not just a team, we’re brothers – cut us and we’ll all bleed the same jade-green color of the Dragons – which means we throw each other shade like siblings do, too.
I went to the players’ lounge when I first arrived. It’s not something I usually do but I grabbed a coffee and honestly, just kind of stared into space. I feel off-kilter. There’s an unusual amount of change in my life right now and I’m not sure it’s sitting well with me. Nothing has mixed up in my life for a while. I play hockey, I train hard, in the off-season I let loose. I come from a good family – Dad pisses me off but by my mom, brother and sister are loveable. My grandparents are still alive. Really, life is sweet. It’s the life I want and that I’ve worked hard for.
Suddenly, I’m in a sham marriage, have a hot woman who seemingly hates me living in my space and running it like a dictatorship, and my wife now works for my team.
