5. Caroline

Even though my big brother has played in the NHL for years, I've never flown on the team's private jet before. By the time we've landed, I feel properly spoiled. I got a glass of non-alcoholic champagne once we were at cruising altitude. The drink was followed by a hot meal and even an in-flight mani-pedi. I asked Jake if the guys had taken advantage of that service, but he just laughed and said he had arranged that one for me.

Conflicted would be a good word to describe how I feel as I get Walker set up in the car at the airport. Jake apparently hired a driver for us, so I won't have to keep messing with car seats every time we get a new car.

"Thanks," I say. "You've been really thoughtful about all the baby stuff."

Jake nods. He looks distracted as he's scrolling something on his phone. It looks like Liam's social media page at first glance. It's full of poetry and quotes from famous people, but his page still gets flooded with thirsty women trying to get between his sheets.

"Something wrong?" I ask after a few more moments.

"Liam officially announced he's retiring later this year. That pretty much completes the picture. Every one of the starters I came up with will be gone soon."

"Oh," I say softly. "He didn't tell you?"

Jake puts the phone away abruptly. "He hinted at it. I probably didn't want to hear it, so he dropped the topic. I'm sure he'll tell me next time he sees me."

I wait for him to say more because I can feel he wants to say more. The driver gets in, gives us a look, and starts driving. He must already know where to go. I'm vaguely impressed he's not using a GPS, but I guess not everybody is directionally challenged like I am.

"What are you going to do?" I ask.

"I'm going to keep playing until I can't anymore," Jake says.

There's so much tension in him I almost want to reach out and take his hand. I want to comfort him because I can see how much he's hurting. But I know he's not the kind of guy who would ever ask for help or comfort. He might even pull away if I try to offer it.

I wait, picking my words carefully. "Jesse used to live for hockey," I say slowly. "Like, back in high school, he usually didn't even notice when girls liked him because all he wanted to do was be on the ice. Then it only got worse in college and then the pros. I used to think he'd just skate himself to death one day, alone and single. But then he met Andi. And I think he realized there was something to look forward to after hockey. Now he's got his family, and it makes him so happy. I know you've seen it."

When Jake lifts his blue eyes to mine, they're so intense I almost have to look away. Cold needles prick up and down my spine, and I wonder if this is how his opponents in the rink feel when he stares them down before the face-off. I'm tempted to apologize and drop the subject, but I've never been one to back down, so I hold his gaze.

"I'm not Jesse," he says. Despite the intensity in his expression, I can tell he's trying to soften his words for me. He's always gentle with me. "I only ever dreamed about this, Caroline. Being on the ice. Leading the guys. I don't know if anybody has ever been happier to get drafted in the NHL than I was. And I've never lost that. Not for a single day. I f–..." He trails off, eyes on Walker's car seat. "I love showing up for my coaches and my team. I love the game."

"But you can't play forever," I say as carefully as I can.

"I know," he sighs. "I know," he adds more quietly. "But I thought we all had a little more time. More than this, at least. Even if I get re-signed by the Vandals, it will be different without all the guys around me."

"Maybe," I agree. "But even Nolan was obsessed with hockey, too. He found cooking. And then he found Mia. Who knows, though? Maybe a family isn't for you," I say, even though the thought twists my insides. It shouldn't twist my insides because I've been long-resolved to raising Walker alone. Some stupid part of my unconscious must still hope things will work out differently. "I'm just trying to say that people grow and change. Things probably feel like they're falling apart on you, but I think you'll surprise yourself. You'll find something new to put your energy into. You're too talented not to."

He pulls his attention from the window back to me. The hardness in his eyes has softened just a touch. The corner of his mouth pulls up, and he gives my thigh a soft squeeze. "I don't think people realize how good you are at what you do."

I tilt my head, confused. "What?"

"Frosty Harbor. I don't think people realize what having you there does for that town. You just kind of get people. How to make them feel better. It's a skill, and you managed to put yourself in a position where you can use it on as many people as possible." He pauses, then nods slightly, almost to himself. "I know this arrangement is helping me, too, but I'm glad it worked out this way. I'm enjoying screwing up that Peter asshole's plans, but I'm also glad I can help you keep the bed and breakfast. You do a lot of good for people there."

I feel like an idiot because my eyes are going misty. I wipe at them and look away, hoping he won't notice.

Jake chuckles, puts his big arm around me, and pulls me into his shoulder. "Since when were you such a softie?"

"I'm not," I say, voice thick. "That was just nice. Thank you."

There are a few beats of silence, and then Jake shrugs a little. "Can't pretend to be your fiancé if I don't say nice things here and there. Right?"

"Yeah," I agree, even though I kind of wish he had just stayed silent. I like to think I don't do what I do for thanks or appreciation, but it's rare for somebody to recognize you and really see you. Whether Jake tries to pull back some of the sincerity of what he just said or not, I will hold on to and cherish his words.

"This is it," the driver says a few minutes later.

We both pull apart as if our parents just caught us cuddling in the back seat. I glance over at Walker, who is fast asleep. The little guy stayed awake almost the whole time we were in the air, mostly because the flight attendant and girl who did my nails kept gushing over him. He's a ham, so he seemed to eat up all the attention, but now he's got to rest.

"He good?" Jake asks.

"Just tired," I say. I lean to the side, glancing out the window. Manhattan is busy, as always, and we're in one of the premier shopping districts. I can see it from the way most of the pedestrians are dressed even before I start scanning the names on the storefronts.

"Come on," he says. "Want me to hold Walker?"

"Um, okay," I say. Usually, I don't like letting people hold his carrier. I have an irrational fear that they'll drop him. But I also have to admit that Jake Summers looks like he's too coordinated and athletic to ever drop something by mistake.

The driver gets our doors, making me feel a little silly as people on the street start giving us looks. Even in this part of the city, I guess it's a little unusual to see a man dressed in "fancy driver" clothes getting doors for people. Or maybe it's that Jake Summers is famous enough for one out of every two people walking by to recognize him.

A thought strikes me as Jake helps me out of the car with one hand and holds Walker's carrier in the other. "I don't think we're going to be able to keep this a secret like you said," I whisper. "From our friends, I mean."

Jake glances around, then grimaces a little. "I thought about that after we talked," he admits. "I thought maybe I was just being arrogant, though. But it does look like plenty of people are recognizing me and wondering what I'm doing with a baby carrier."

"You didn't think people would find it interesting that a hot NHL star suddenly shows up carrying a baby?"

"You think I'm hot?" he asks, grinning.

I roll my eyes but smile. "Let's just go get this stupid ring."

He puts a hand on the small of my back and guides me through the crowd. It's not hard, considering people are stopping to stare at him. At us. I think I see envy in a few faces, and I try not to let that boost my ego. We're just pretending, for starters.

"Jake, can I get a picture?" a guy asks.

"Sorry, not a good time," Jake says.

"Is that your girlfriend?" a voice asks from the growing crowd.

The group of people staring at us is getting big enough that people are stopping, just because that's what people do when they see a spontaneous crowd forming. I hear a growing murmur of whispers and some raised voices. I catch words like "NHL", "star", "Jake", "girlfriend", "baby", and "fiancée".

"Yeah," I say as he guides me to the front doors of Tiffany's flagship location in Manhattan. "I think the secret might already be out." It's easy to forget how famous Jake is. Even though I've gone to his games before and seen him within crowds of thousands. I hardly ever walk around with him or Jesse outside Frosty Harbor. Everybody back home is so used to the guys that they hardly get extra attention.

The store is on a corner, and two men in dark suits are out front. They open the doors for us and seem to ward off anyone who tries to follow us inside.

"Wow," I say once we're inside. "You created quite the flash mob back there"

"Must be the baby," Jake says. "People love babies and a good scandal."

"We're hardly a scandal," I say, even though I'm not quite sure I'm correct. But my voice trails off as I take in the store. The showroom feels like the grand hall of a palace. Huge windows run down either wall, and glass showcases full of glistening jewelry are on display as far as I can see.

"Wow," I breathe. "Where is everybody?"

Outside, there was an endless sea of people. Here, it's like an oasis from the flood of humanity. There's nobody except a single woman in a sleek black dress and perfectly straight brown hair coming our way.

"Oh, yeah," Jake says. "I had this genius idea. I booked out the showroom so we could get to look in private. You know, keep things inconspicuous. Keep the secret," he adds, grin widening.

I laugh. "Well, it was a good thought." I look behind us as the crowd of people trying to tiptoe to look past the guys watching the door. "But I'm pretty sure everybody out there is putting two and two together."

"No big deal," Jake says. "We'll figure it out. We're both pretty good on our feet. Then again, we weren't so bad when we got off our feet together, either."

A hot blush runs up my cheeks. "Jake," I say sternly.

"What?" he asks. "It's true. We always had a good spark. Maybe in another life, we could've been really good together."

"In another life," I agree distantly.

"Welcome to Tiffany's," the woman says. It took her an almost comical amount of time to reach us because the showroom is so huge. She's even slightly out of breath. "Follow me, please."

I'm a little confused because she's leading us straight past all the showroom displays. We reach an elegant set of doors at the back, through wood-paneled halls, through another room, and into a cozy little lounge area. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. Would the baby like anything to drink?"

Is this lady serious? What does she think she'll be able to whip up for a two-month-old baby? But I give her another look and decide she's barely twenty. She may just not know much about babies.

"Milk," Jake says. "On the rocks."

The woman nods and starts to leave. "That was a joke," he says quickly. "Pretty sure he's still getting it straight from the tap."

The woman and I both give Jake a look. He holds up his hands defensively. "Sorry. Bad jokes. I'll just be quiet now."

I bite back a smile.

"Anything for you two?" she asks us.

"Whiskey sour," Jake says. "She'll have, uh, what will she have?" Jake says, looking my way.

"Orange juice."

The woman leaves, closing the heavy door behind her.

Jake gives me a curious look. "I was sure you were going to say tequila."

"It's safer if I avoid alcohol while I'm still breastfeeding. Especially since Walker wants a ‘shot from the tap' as often as he does right now."

"Oh," Jake says, nodding. "Makes sense."

I sit back in the cozy leather sofa and look around the room. "Where are we, exactly?"

"When you buy the big stuff, this is what they do," he says. "At least, that's what the girl told me when I called and said I wanted the VIP shit." He chuckles a little. "I've never done this, either. But I figure we just play it cool and act like we know what the hell we're doing."

"Got it," I say. "So, just keep doing what I've been doing my whole life. No problem."

"Don't sell yourself short. You're kind of a badass, in case nobody has told you."

I feel myself blushing. Jake Summers may be the only man who can make me blush. But he has a way of ensuring people never sell themselves short in front of him. I guess it's part of that whole "natural leader" package he seemed to have popped out of the womb with. And it's probably a big part of why people can never resist wanting to be near him. He lifts everyone around him up, whether they like it or not.

The woman returns with our drinks and a briefcase. I try not to laugh at how ostentatious this whole thing is.

"This collection came in from Italy last night. You're the first to see it." She sets the case down in front of us, flips some noisy metal latches, and cracks it open with a dramatic slowness. The lighting above catches every gemstone, refracting the light into a thousand little rainbows. I can't help but gasp at the sight of it all.