Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Hudson

I gripped the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles white with tension. My heart was in my throat as I ignored every traffic law on my way home. Whitney had said she was fine, but I knew better. Something was wrong and I had to fix it. In a matter of weeks, I had fallen in love with her, and the mere thought of her being upset filled me with pain.

I screeched to a halt in a parking lot, ran into the building, and punched the code into the keypad on our door. I threw it open. "Whitney?"

A sniffle greeted me, and my heart plummeted. I followed the sound of a whimper to the dark living room, and found her form huddled on the sofa. I turned on a lamp.

The low, golden light illuminated her sitting cross-legged with Mr. Darcy in her lap. She stroked his fur and sniffed. Her glasses framed red-rimmed eyes and rested on a pink, chafed button nose. Balled up tissues lay scattered around her.

Alarm tingled down my spine and I dropped to a knee in front of her. "Baby, what's wrong?" I wanted to take her in my arms and make it all better, but first I had to know what I was dealing with. Sickening scenarios ran through my mind. "Is it your epilepsy? Your medication?"

Her chin trembled, and she spoke through shaky breaths. "You were fined and benched because of me."

"Yeah. So?" I frowned in confusion. What did that have to do with anything?

Her gaze raised to mine, and she narrowed her eyes. "How can you be so blasé about it? My seizure affected your career . Hockey is your life . You worked so hard and sacrificed so much to get to this point, and I brought you down with one seizure. What happens if I have more? You'll suffer for it."

"Do you remember what I told you in the ER?"

Her brow furrowed. "I was very confused."

I stood and pulled my phone from my pocket. I called up iTunes, tapped the screen a few times, and the elegant notes of "The Blue Danube Waltz" by Strauss poured from my Bluetooth speakers. "Lady Whitney, may I have the honor of signing your dance card for the waltz?"

A small smile tugged at her lips, and a glimmer of hope sparked within me. She mimed handing me her dance card, and I pretended to sign my name with a bold flourish.

Gently setting her furball aside, she took my outstretched hand. "I'd be delighted, Your Grace." She unfolded from the couch, and I took her into my arms.

We swayed to the music. "I don't actually know how to waltz," I confessed in a low voice.

A giggle escaped her, and my heart lightened. "That's okay." She ran her hand along my jaw, smoothing my playoff beard. "Being wrapped in you is more scandalous."

I rocked us back and forth to the rhythm. "I'm not surprised you don't remember what I told you in the ER. You were in and out of consciousness." I pulled back and met her curious gaze. "But Whitney…I said ‘I love you.'"

She gasped and whispered, "I thought that was a dream."

I shook my head. "That really happened. This marriage might have started out as a convenience, but it became so much more for me. It became real." My heart pummeled my ribs—she had to believe me. My future was in her hands.

"But…you said you'd never love again." Her voice was small.

"That was before I fell in love with my wife." I stopped dancing and pinned her with my gaze. "Anything I felt before pales in comparison to the love I feel for you, baby. You're tucked into my heart, safe and secure."

"Oh, Hudson." Her breath hitched and she snuggled into me, laying her head on my chest. "I know it sounds like I'm just repeating the words back to you. But believe me when I say that I love you, too. I don't know when my crush on you became love, but I fell in love with my husband."

I smirked. "You had a crush on me?"

She pinched my ass. "You knew I was a fan."

I chuckled.

"But seriously, you can't put me in front of your hockey career."

I scowled. "I can, and I will. You're more important to me than my career. Hockey is fleeting, you're my forever."

She wrapped her arms around my waist and squeezed. "You're my happily ever after."

I stopped swaying and drew back, catching her gaze. "But to make things right, there's something we need to do."

I backed out of my parking spot in the apartment building's garage, my heart thudding with nervousness. Because of our playoff schedule, that evening was the first chance we'd had to visit Gramps in the nine days since we'd declared our love for each other. My stomach clenched. Whitney didn't know everything I had planned. How would she respond?

But I wanted to visit Gramps before the next night so my plans weren't overshadowed by Game Seven. Colorado had tied the series at three to three the previous night, forcing the final game at home. Anticipation fizzed through my veins. I was ready to beat Colorado and win Round Two of the playoffs.

Whitney and I spent the next twenty minutes of the trip to Gramps's apartment discussing the series, all heart-pounding games. If we'd made one too many mistakes in the previous night's game, we would have been playing golf the next day instead of Game Seven.

When we arrived at Gramps's door, I knocked, then let us in. "We're here!"

"Come in, come in." Gramps leaned forward in his recliner and grabbed his cane.

"Don't get up." I closed the door. "Can I get you anything before we sit down?"

"No, I'm fine. But help yourself."

I grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge with a shaking hand, my mouth suddenly dry.

Whitney and I crossed the room to Gramps, hugged him, and settled on the couch. Whitney fiddled with her necklace and bounced her knee. Gramps waited for me to start the conversation, since I'd called this meeting.

"First, the good news," I said, putting off the hard topic.

Gramps raised his eyebrows. "There's bad news? "

Whitney cocked her head in question, and rightfully so. Maybe I should have told her first. My nerves jangled.

I spread my arms wide. "You're looking at the new spokesman for the Silicon Valley Epilepsy Institute." I held my breath.

Whitney gasped, and her lips spread in a smile. "That's wonderful! I know the Institute. They're such a good foundation, educating the public and raising funds for research." Her eyes shone with appreciation. "Thank you for doing that."

"It's my pleasure. Anything I can do to help." The PR department was thrilled with the boost to my image, but screw them. That's not why I was doing it. It was a worthy cause.

"Proud of you, son." Gramps thumped his cane on the floor in emphasis.

"Well, you might not be so proud in a minute." I cracked open my water bottle and quenched my parched mouth. I couldn't delay any longer; it was time to come clean. My stomach squirmed. "Gramps, we—I—have something to tell you. You might not like it, but I want you to know that I'm to blame."

Whitney shook her head. "Hudson?—"

I held up a hand. "It was my idea. Whitney just went along with it."

Gramps grumped, "Out with it, boy."

"I'm getting there. Here's the story. The day before our wedding, Whitney had a tonic-clonic—grand mal—seizure while I was with her. That was the day I had to cancel on you, remember?"

He nodded.

"Whitney had terrible health insurance and couldn't afford her prescription medication. "

Gramps frowned, concern written in his gaze as he transferred his focus to Whitney.

"And I needed to repair my image after…well, after the shit hit the fan. My agent had pressured me into settling down with a respectable girlfriend. So, I saw an opportunity. I proposed a marriage of convenience even though we'd only known each other for five days. And we were only going to stay married until Whitney's medicine became available as a generic prescription."

Gramps sucked in a breath, and Whitney twisted her hands together.

"Whitney had some terms and conditions, and so did I. Love wasn't part of the bargain."

Gramps's eyebrows knit together.

"She agreed. We got married as soon as possible because she needed to refill her medicine. I'm sorry I deceived you." I took Whitney's hand in mine. "But I'm not sorry I married Whitney."

Her gaze met mine, and I squeezed her hand.

A silence fell over the room, and Gramps slumped his shoulders.

Oh, shit. I'd disappointed him.

"I'm sorry you felt you had to get married." He let out a deep sigh.

"But Gramps…the story has a happy ending." I slid off the couch onto one knee and faced Whitney.

Her eyes flew wide. "What are you doing?"

I pulled a sparkling diamond solitaire engagement ring from my pocket and held it up. "Whitney, you made me believe in love. I'm not a duke, but our love story is my favorite. Will you marry me? Again?"

She dropped to her knees, threw her arms around my neck, and tucked her head into my shoulder. "Yes," she laughed against me .

I held her tight, relief releasing the band around my chest, and rocked back and forth. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Smiling, she pulled back and held out her hand. I slipped the ring onto her finger and slid it home against her wedding band.

" Now I'm happy," Gramps grumped. "But when are you going to give me great-grandchildren?"

Whitney blushed. I grinned and said, "Give us a minute."