Chapter 7

Seven

Kyleigh

After I left the hotel room early this morning, I went back to my apartment, showered, and changed.

Alara called to tell me that we were going for breakfast because she wanted all the details from the night before. Of course, we headed to our favorite pancake house that we haven't been to in a while.

"So?"

I hold up the menu so she can't see the blush I'm certain is pinkening my face. Last night with Rowan was something I've never experienced before. The man is talented with everything from his fingers to his mouth to how he uses his dick. He aims to please, that's for sure. I choose not to think of where he learned all his moves because it probably came from a long line of women before me. By the time we ran out of condoms, he told me to ride his face, and I'd never come so hard in my life.

"There wasn't a lot of conversation," I say from behind the menu. I'm acting as if I'm not going to get the pancakes and strawberries like always.

"That's the best kind of night." Her perfectly manicured nail lands on top of the menu, and she brings it down. "You're holding out on me."

I shrug. "What do you want to know? His dick size?"

She moves her head side to side. "Yeah, because he's Rowan Landry. Is he as gifted in that department as he is on the rink? But at the same time, no, because if you two ever got serious, that would be weird."

I scoff at her. "We're not going to get serious."

She stares at me for a long time, sipping her orange juice through her straw. I shift in my seat. This is Alara's way of getting things out of me.

"We didn't exchange numbers or anything. Plus…"

Her mouth hangs open. "What did you do?"

I hate that she knows me so well. "I might have given him another name."

"What?"

The people at the table beside us turn immediately from Alara's loud mouth.

I lean in a bit over the table. "He played with Conor back in college. I didn't want to give him my real name."

"So, what name are you going by now?" she asks with a grin.

I set my menu down and grab a creamer for my coffee. "Leigh."

"Leigh?"

"Yes. Leigh." I nod, assured that it doesn't matter.

"But your name is Ky leigh ," she says as if I don't already know that.

"Yes." I stir my coffee. "But no one calls me Leigh."

"But…" She waves off the topic. "Okay, whatever, so you're Leigh to him. You had fun though?"

"Of course."

"I think it's more than that."

I sip my coffee and stare at her over the rim of my mug, swallowing the hot liquid. "Listen, just because you're happy with Justin doesn't mean it's for everyone."

She leans back in the booth, her eyes never leaving mine. Alara is in school to be a psychologist, and I hate when she uses the shit she's learning in school on me. "I'm sorry, when did you become so anti-relationship?"

I haven't told Alara about what happened with my mom.

I haven't told anyone.

I was going to call Conor today, but why should I blow up his entire belief in a happily ever after, even though the man is still enjoying his bachelor ways?

"You're hiding something," she says.

"You're a pain in my ass."

"Actually, I'm your best friend. The one you're supposed to share everything with."

"You said you didn't want to know his dick size," I say, trying to use humor to deflect.

"Stop being cheeky. Now tell me."

The waitress comes over and takes our orders, but it doesn't distract Alara from her mission. Once the waitress walks away, she's leaning back in the booth, waiting for me to start talking.

"Last night before the wedding, I saw my mom with another man."

There. It's out in the universe. It's no longer my secret, and I can no longer convince myself that I was seeing things. That it wasn't real.

"What?" Her mouth drops open, and her eyes widen in disbelief.

Her parents are divorced, and it was nasty before she turned eighteen. The reason she wanted to become a therapist was to help kids through divorce because of the tug-of-war she felt as a kid.

Tears prick my eyes as I tell her what I saw. "On my way to the wedding, I stopped at the boutique and had to go upstairs because I forgot the card my mom had given me for Mila and Jack. As soon as I walked in, I saw my mom's office light on, so I thought I'd joke with her about why I was attending in her place because she said she was busy and how she needed to start declining the invitations. But…"

Alara takes my hand, and I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"She was sitting on her desk, and there was a man standing between her legs, kissing her. He was pulling her blouse out of her skirt."

"And it wasn't your dad? You're sure?"

I shake my head.

She squeezes my hand. "That sucks so bad, Ky. I say we confront her."

I laugh, but it's weak at best. "Alara."

"I'm serious. If my childhood taught me anything, it's that you need to go to your mom and tell her what you saw. I'm assuming you grabbed the envelope from your office and snuck out the back?"

I nod.

"I would've run in there and tore the bastard off my mom."

I shake my head, but I can't help but laugh at the image she's putting in my head.

"You can't just ignore it, Ky." Her eyes are full of sympathy and understanding.

Alara knows how close I am with my mother, even if she drives me crazy sometimes. We work side by side, and it's devastating to find out she's not the person I thought I knew. I feel so betrayed. I can only imagine how my dad will feel when he finds out.

"I know, but I'm not sure I'm ready. I mean, how could she, of all people, do this? She's used our family, her ‘perfect' marriage"—I put the word perfect in air quotes—"to sell her bridal designs and brand the business. Do you know how many photoshoots we've done as a family to benefit the business? Ones where she and my dad look so in love? Her perfect Nilsen family. I didn't know I was helping to perpetrate a lie. What a joke."

She doesn't say anything but blows out a breath.

She knows, as well as I do, how much my mom has marketed us as one big happy family. It's an essential part of the brand at this point. Brides think it's good luck to have their dress designed and made by us because of it. And now I find out that none of it's true.

"I'm really sorry."

I nod. "Anyway, last night was a great distraction to keep me from thinking about all of that."

"But you'll have to?—"

"I know, but I'm not ready. I need a day or two to process it."

"But don't just bury it, Ky. That's not healthy."

I divert my eyes to get away from this conversation. Alara is always who I tell big news to, but now that I'm saying it out loud, I'm not sure I was ready to believe and accept it myself.

That's when I see him .

"Oh my god." I move to pick up the menu but remember it's no longer on the corner of the table because the waitress took it after we ordered. I scan the table, pick up a napkin, and put it over the bottom part of my face.

"Um…" Alara looks over her shoulder and turns back around, laughing hysterically, drawing attention to us. "You're not being inconspicuous, you know. If anything, you're making yourself more obvious."

"I left his hotel room early this morning in order to dodge the awkward morning thing." I slide to the far end of the booth, hoping to stay hidden.

"And did the walk of shame through the lobby."

I drop the napkin and throw a creamer at her. "What am I going to do?" She turns around again, and I throw another creamer at her. "Stop looking!"

"Who's the little boy? He's cute. I didn't know Rowan Landry was a single daddy." She raises her eyebrows up and down several times.

"He's not. Henry Hensley is."

She rolls her eyes at me. "You really need to stay off the hockey blogs."

"I didn't learn that from the hockey blogs. You know I love the sport. I grew up with it, so how can I not know so much about it?"

"Want to sneak out the back?" she asks.

As I'm about to say yes and leave some money on the table, Rowan walks my way. "Damn it."

I'm guessing he's taking the boy to the glass wall where all the kids want to watch the chef flip the pancakes. He usually makes a show of his art, making pancakes into shapes and figures.

"He's coming this way, isn't he?" Alara's amused smile makes me almost pick up another creamer, but I refrain, too scared to move in case I draw his attention to our booth.

"Here you go, ladies." Our waitress cuts him off in the aisleway, and he has to stop with the boy in his arms who's still eyeing the window. "Pancakes and strawberries." She slides me my plate. "And the waffle flight." She puts Alara's dish in front of her. "Enjoy. I'll be back to check on you."

The damage is done because Rowan is staring at me. The slow grin that grows on his face brings to mind all the times he made me come last night. I had an amazing night with him, and my body reacts as if I didn't get enough.

"Leigh," he says as if he's been waiting to run into me for a year instead of mere hours.

"Hey." I lift my hand.

He steps up to the edge of our table. The boy doesn't give us any of his attention, staring over Rowan's shoulder at the pancake man. Our eyes lock for a moment, neither of us saying anything or acknowledging the awkward coincidence.

"Hi, I'm Alara. Saw you last night but never properly introduced myself." She puts out her hand, which tears his focus off me. I want to kick her under the table like a toddler, but at the same time, I'm thankful.

"Rowan." He shakes her hand.

"Landry. The Falcons' new center," the boy in his arms says. "I'm Bodhi Hensley. My dad is Henry Hensley. Right wing."

Alara laughs and shifts her hand to him. "Nice to meet you, Bodhi. I'm Alara, and this is…"

"Leigh." I wave, and Alara giggles.

Rowan's gaze seeks mine out again, and god, the man is even more gorgeous in the daylight. Even in a T-shirt and joggers, the definition of his body is obvious.

"Who are your friends?" A guy I know is Tweetie comes by holding his arms out for Bodhi, and he goes willingly.

"Take me to the pancake man, please," Bohdi says.

"In a second, bud. Rowan needs to answer my question." Tweetie Sorenson is standing next to Rowan Landry. I could pinch myself.

"This is Leigh and Alara." Rowan points at me then Alara.

"Hey, ladies, I'm Tweetie." He grins at us, then looks back at Rowan. "I meant who are they to you?" His smirk says he's purposely being a shithead to Rowan. He looks between Rowan and me, waiting patiently.

"Leigh is a friend."

Alara coughs and pretends she's choking and needs a drink of her orange juice. Tweetie clocks her response and seems to put the pieces together.

"Leigh, I'm curious, were you at a wedding last night?"

"She sure was," Alara answers for me.

"Ah…you're the reason for my buddy's smile this morning."

"Go show Bodhi the pancake man," Rowan says, obviously unamused.

"That guy isn't giving me half the show this here is." Tweetie stands firm, but he's so tall, Bodhi can still see the man making the pancakes.

"What's going on over here?" Henry Hensley comes over.

"I suddenly feel like the it girl in high school." Alara sips her orange juice again, her eyes pinging between each pro hockey player circling around our booth.

"We're going to need a table for six," Tweetie says to Henry.

"Oh no, we have our meals already. You guys enjoy your breakfast." I wave off his suggestion, but Henry's already walking over to the hostess stand.

"Let me show you what it's like the morning after you sleep with a Falcon. Rowan here is at least going to buy you breakfast." He winks and puts his hand around Rowan's neck and squeezes.

"I'm game," Alara says with a bright smile.

I whip my head in her direction, forehead wrinkled. "What? No."

"You did leave before I could buy you a meal."

I look over, and Rowan hasn't stripped his gaze off me, raising those eyebrows just as he did at the bar, challenging me to say no.

He knows as well as I do that last night was exceptional. But I'm not sure we could ever recreate it. A night like that is meant to be forever instilled in the memories one takes with them through life.

"I'm sure your body is just as spent as mine and Rowan's. Coach always says you need to replenish those calories you burned." Tweetie gives me a smile I don't trust because it looks like trouble. Mostly the fun kind.

How did I get swindled into a breakfast with Rowan Landry and his teammates, thus ensuring I'm going to have to do a second walk of shame this morning?