Chapter Fourteen

Brent

I walk cautiously back to the table when I see the look on Zoey's face.

Have we been outed?

Does my grandmother know that this relationship is all just a sham to get me out of dating her friend's granddaughter? As far as I can tell, there isn't a granddaughter in sight as Zoey and I are the youngest people in the room by at least a few decades.

"Everything okay over here, ladies?" I ask, handing them each a drink.

Zoey takes the clear plastic cup from my hand and lifts the rim up to her lips, taking a sip of the red punch liquid. Gran takes the other cup I offer and smiles up at me. Whatever had her looking at me suspiciously as I walked up has faded and now, she looks just as happy as she did when Zoey and I first walked in.

"Oh yes. Everything is wonderful. Your darling girlfriend is an absolute delight and I'm so happy to see you two finally got together after all these years. I'll be watching for an, "engagement announcement" in the mail any day now."

Zoey practically does a spit take as she chokes on the punch that she inhaled through her windpipe as Gran blurts out "engagement announcement".

Gran and I both make a quick movement towards Zoey, each of us pat her back as she attempts to clear her airways.

With how quickly Zoey expects the timely death of our fake relationship, I'm not surprised at all that Gran's comment took Zoey by surprise. And not in a good way.

"Are you okay?" I ask her.

She nods but doesn't look up at Gran or me.

"I'm sorry, did I say something wrong? Maybe you two are planning a shotgun wedding?" Gran says, looking between us two.

This woman is going to be the death of me.

"Gran, we're not engaged," I tell her, making sure she hears me.

But she seems to ignore me as she continues on.

"I won't judge. Did you know that I was four months pregnant with your father on my wedding day to your grandfather?"

Zoey's eyes flare up to mine.

"Jesus, she's not pregnant, Gran."

My grandmother proceeds to rub Zoey's leg, pretending again not to hear me.

"It would have been quite the scandal back then since he was eight years older than me. He wanted to sample the milk before he bought the cow. But after one taste, he was hooked."

I just look at Zoey as her eyes turn the size of saucers as Gran seems to be oversharing this information directly to Zoey.

Her eyes flash up to mine but there's nothing I can say or do at this point. I have zero control over this woman.

"I'm so sorry," I tell Zoey because at this point, apologizing for my grandmother is my only recourse.

But then Zoey just starts to laugh, and relief hits me.

"I guess it worked out for you two then?" she asks Gran.

"We were married for thirty-five years before I lost him. And I wouldn't take back a single thing, including my shotgun wedding. I loved that man more than life."

Zoey nods.

"I think I know what you mean. I hope in thirty-five years I can look back and feel the same way. Even after all of our setbacks," Zoey says, staring off across the room in thought.

"You will, honey. Brent will make it all up to you. He's a good man," Gran says, looking up and winking at me.

"Oh… right… Brent," Zoey says hesitantly.

Zoey wasn't talking about me and all of our setbacks. She was talking about Liam and the fact that he dumped her before prom and then dumped her again right before their wedding for someone else.

She wants to look back on thirty-five years with him and believe it was all worth it. She has no intention of spending those thirty-five years with me.

It's not as if I don't already know that I have no shot with Zoey and that I'll never be a contender. But seeing the light fade from her eyes when she realizes that my grandmother meant being married to me for all those years instead of Liam is hard to watch.

You'd think that after the last ten years since graduation, that I'd be used to seeing her want someone else. But the truth is, it doesn't get any easier.

The problem with this plan is that I already know that Zoey's plan is likely going to work. Liam has always wanted what he can't have. He's been a spoiled rich kid his whole life and hasn't ever had to work hard for anything.

The minute he sees that someone else wants Zoey, he'll have buyer's remorse with Shelby and want Zoey back, just like he did in college. I've seen him do this time and time again. The only thing that his dad's money and influence couldn't get him into was the NHL.

Gran clears her throat and stands, looking over at me.

"Alright, I know you need to get going soon to a wedding event that you two have tonight. Let me at least introduce you to a few people."

I nod. "Lead the way," I say.

Zoey stands from her chair next and then turns to follow Gran. I follow behind Zoey.

Gran leads us around the ballroom, introducing us to at least sixty people, half of whom are men who seem to be flirting with my grandmother right in front of me.

Unsurprising to me, my grandmother is the life of the party, whether or not it's her birthday party. Everyone we meet gushes about my grandmother and how lucky I am to be related to her.

I'm glad to continue to see that she's thriving here. I worry now that Tessa and I aren't living close to San Diego anymore. I told Tessa that once I retire from the NHL that, if I can't convince her to move up to a closer retirement facility in Washington, I'll buy a condo here so that I can spend more time with her.

She's not getting any younger, just like she said during our conversation on the plane, and she's one of the last family members I have. Maybe I do owe it to her to settle down with someone.

"Excuse me. Do you mind if I steal Verna from you?" a gentleman in a suit asks, referring to my grandmother. "This is our song, and I've been waiting for it to come on."

My gran gives him a big smile. She looks eager to get back on the dance floor, and I know that if she hadn't taken the time to sit down with Zoey earlier, she probably never would have left the dance floor to begin with.

I nod in response.

"Sure, she's all yours," I tell him.

He reaches out his hand, and she takes it happily.

"Go get some food, you two," she says over her shoulder.

"That's my grandson and his future wife. Isn't she beautiful?" I hear her ask him as he leads her to the dance floor.

I have no idea where she's coming up with the conclusion that Zoey and I will be getting married. I can't think of anything that I've said to her to make her think that. And it's doubtful that whatever she and Zoey discussed while I was grabbing the punch would have led her to draw that assumption.

I'm the last person on earth that Zoey would consider marrying.

"He's a lucky man. But then again, so am I," he says.

I hear my grandmother giggle, and Zoey turns to me.

"Should we get something to eat before we meet everyone for ice skating?"

She doesn't address what my grandmother just said but I know she heard it too.

"Yeah, I'm starving. I haven't eaten since this morning."

"Me either," she says.

We turn and head for the buffet table.

I let her step in front of me in line.

She grabs a crisp white dinner plate and a bundle of silverware that's wrapped in a Christmas green napkin. I follow behind her and pick up the same.

"Hey, sorry for all the wedding talk. She's just excited but after this weekend, I'll set it straight," I assure her.

We take a couple of steps forward, following the line of people ahead of us.

I can't see her face, so I take the opportunity to study her long chestnut hair, which cascades down her back, stopping just past her shoulder blades. It's the same color it was in high school, with its light caramel highlights from the sun. Though there's less of them now. Probably since she's been living in Seattle for the last year.

I remember staring at the back of her hair in Spanish class. My fingers itching to reach out and run my hands through it to feel how soft it is.

Now I know from touching her skin last night that every inch of her feels like silk.

Especially between her thighs—Jesus Christ, the way she felt when she came on my fingers.

I hold myself back from the temptation to reach out and touch her skin again.

I'm already walking a thin line as it is, and getting any closer will only make things worse between us.

She might have given me license to do something to her that I've fantasized about for years but she won't let that happen again.

"Your gran is pretty great," she says.

I follow where she's looking like her head is turned toward the dance floor instead of the line in front of us.

She continues to take additional steps as the line moves up and we inch closer to the food.

"Yeah, she is," I say as we both take another step forward in line.

"You know… it's not such a bad thing that she wants you to be happy."

"Settling down with the wrong person won't make me happy. I either find the right one or I don't. I'd rather be alone than attached to someone for companionship. It's as simple as that." And that's the truth if she really wants it.

Besides, there's more to it than that.

The truth is that I've lost a lot of people that I love. Either from death or from just straight walking away when I didn't give them what they wanted from me, like Liam. And the professional sports world is cutthroat.

How much pain can a human endure in their lifetime before the pain gets so intense that they just stop breathing?

There were days after my parents died that I thought I might die from crying so hard. How can a person hurt that much and still live?

How can your best friend, who you saw as a brother and the captain of your high school hockey team, turn his back on you just because he's jealous of the one and only good thing that has happened for me—my NHL contract?

The world took my parents from me, and then he took Zoey. Didn't I deserve something? Didn't I work my ass off for that contract?

Didn't I skate through the pain of losing my parents?

There were days I was so numb to life that I could barely feel my fingers or toes, but I went out there to make sure that I had a career so that the courts would have a hard time denying me Tessa's legal guardianship.

They didn't have to let me or my grandmother take her. I was just newly just eighteen and still in high school, and my grandmother was living in a retirement facility that didn't allow for anyone under the age of fifty-five to live full-time. The courts could have sent Tessa into foster care. And if I hadn't just signed a multi-million-dollar contract to show I was financially capable of caring for my sister, and if my gran hadn't moved out of the facility and into my parent's old house with us in order to help me with Tessa during my out-of-town games, I don't think I would have won my case.

Did Liam give a shit about any of that?

Nope.

He only saw me as his competition.

Zoey's eyes dart between mine. It's the first time I think she's really seen me since we ran into each other yesterday on our flight.

Then someone clears their throat because we're holding up the line, and Zoey breaks eye contact, spins around, and marches for our table like she's on a mission to put some space between us before I start looking more like a human again, and less like the monster from her past.

Gran sees us heading for the table and makes a beeline for our table.

She takes a seat and fills us in on all the gossip going around as Zoey and I scarf down our food.

I ask her about her yoga classes, steering us away from the pole dancing class that she took this morning.

The fewer details I have about my grandmother and her friends sliding down a pole, the better.

Before we know it, it's time for Zoey and me to leave.

I don't like having to eat and run but we need to make it to ice skating with the rest of the group.

Gran will be at the wedding at least, so I'll get to see her again before I leave town.

With both of our plates empty, I take the last sip of my iced water.

"It was good to see you, Gran, but we'd better get going. Zoey has a lot to do for the wedding and we're supposed to meet everyone for ice skating in twenty minutes."

"Of course. I'm sure that Phoebe could use her sister right about now. We don't want to hold you back from your sisterly duties for this weekend," she says, patting my hand that's resting on the table and then looking over at Zoey on the other side of me. "Tell your folks that I said hello, will you? I'm looking forward to seeing them at the wedding."

"I will," Zoey nods.

I stand and then pull out Zoey's chair.

She looks at me but it's not the usual confusion when I do something nice for her. There's a faint smile across her lips.

Her smile widens when she remembers that my grandmother is watching, and then lifts to her feet.

We say our goodbyes, and as Zoey is giving my grandmother a final hug, another hopeful dance partner shows up at my grandmother's side and asks her to dance.

We've been keeping her from her friends and it's about time she gets back to entertaining everyone again.

Zoey and I heed out of the ballroom and towards the exit.

"Oh shoot! I forgot to ask her for the brownie recipe," Zoey says, snapping her fingers together.

"I'm sorry to break it to you but no matter how much she likes you; you're not getting that recipe. You might as well come to terms with it now before she breaks your heart."

Zoey doesn't head my warning and heads for Gran.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I forgot to ask you for your brownie recipe," she asks gran.

I notice a few other women dancing, starting to eavesdrop, no doubt wanting the recipe for themselves as well.

Gran gives Zoey a devilish grin. "That recipe is all up here," she says, tapping at her temple. "And a copy of it is in my will for Tessa. I don't give it out to just anyone."

Zoey flashes her brightest smile, the one that would have me dropping to one knee if she wanted.

"Not even for the girl dating Brent," she asks.

Now I feel used.

Gran chuckles. "I'll make you a deal. If you marry my grandson, I'll give you that recipe on your wedding day as you're something borrowed."

Zoey flashes a look at me, shock on her face that Gran is a tough negotiator and I just shrug.

Whoever said that Gran isn't a good wingman is a damn liar.

"I have to marry Brent to get it?" she asks.

"Take it or leave it, honey," Gran says over her shoulder before turning back to Hector, who's grinning ear to ear. "Now spin me around, Hector, I want to feel the wind in my hair."

Hector wastes no time, twirling her in a slow, careful circle as laughter fills the room, the sound mixing with the soft music playing in the background. I catch the flash of Zoey's wide eyes as she watches them, her mouth slightly open in surprise.

"I told you," I say, stepping back towards the door. "You weren't going to get it." The words come out lighter than I intended, mostly to hide the amusement bubbling up inside me. But when I don't hear her footsteps following, I stop and turn back.

Zoey's still rooted to the spot where Gran left her, dancers spinning and weaving in between us, their bodies swaying to the music. Her face is contemplative like she's caught in the middle of a thought she wasn't ready to face.

"What?" I ask, brow furrowed.

"Are you worth it?" she asks, her voice barely audible over the music.

I stand there, not completely sure if I heard her right. "Am I worth what?"

Her gaze locks onto mine, a small grin at one corner of her lips. "Are you worth a brownie recipe?"

Is she screwing with me?

I let the question hang between us for a beat, the weight of it far more than just about Gran's brownies. I smirk back at her. "Do you want to find out?"

Before she can respond, her phone rings breaking our connection. She pulls her phone from her back pocket and glances down at the screen.

"It's my dad," she says, her voice softer now. "He's wondering where we are."

I exhale, the tension settling. "We'd better go then," I tell her, pushing my hands into my pockets as I head for the exit.

Why did that feel so fucking close?

I can't help but wonder what her answer would have been if we hadn't been interrupted, but just because she'd say yes doesn't mean I'm not second best to Liam… and also a brownie recipe.

The large double doors of the main lobby of the facility are within sight as we take long strides towards it, Zoey doing well to keep up in her heels.

The valet sees me and radios to another valet, likely one of the drivers who has a valet booth on the other side.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Tomlin. We hope you enjoyed your visit. I've called your car ahead, and they should have it coming around at any moment," he says.

Every time I come here to visit my grandmother, I'm more impressed with how this place is run.

"Thank you," I tell him.

"And by the way, I'm a huge fan. You've always been one of my favorite players in professional hockey. I've followed your career since you got drafted."

He looks about eighteen or nineteen, somewhere around there. He was probably nine or ten when I got drafted, so he might have been watching me play since my rookie year.

It's possible.

"Thanks, that means a lot to me," I tell him honestly. "Do you play?" I ask.

"Yes, sir, I do. I have a full ride to play hockey for Northern Michigan. I'll be headed there next fall."

"You do?" I ask with a smile.

He nods, his spine straightening a little with pride.

I take a quick glance at his name tag.

"Well, congratulations, Marcus, they have a great hockey program there. I'll be keeping an eye out for you. Who knows, maybe I'll see you out on the ice one of these days."

My rental SUV pulls up to the curb and under the covered driveway. The other valet throws it into park before jumping out. I can already see his eyes bulging as his eyes lock on mine.

"Holy shit! You're Brent Tomlin," says the other valet, whose age has to be close to the same as Marcus'.

"That's Brandon. He and I play together on the same high school team. He's going to Notre Dame with a full ride next fall," Marcus informs me quickly as Brandon jumps up onto the curb and walks over, outstretching his hand.

I take it, and we shake hands.

"Marcus told me that you were here, but I thought he was full of shit. You really are here. I'm Brandon, can I get your autograph?" he asks.

I look over my shoulder at Zoey and she nods that I'm free to take a few minutes with these guys. I got in trouble with her last time and I'm not looking to be in the doghouse anymore if I can help it.

Her arms are folded over her chest as she stands a few feet from me, but there's a look of amusement on her face. Almost like she's entertained to see me interact with these high school kids.

"Sure, do you have a pen?" I ask.

After signing two valet slips for each of them, snapping a few selfies with them, and handing them each a tip, which they attempted to refuse a couple of times before finally accepting, we say our goodbyes, and Zoey and I finally get into the car.

I pull off the curb and within minutes, we're headed down the road. It's another forty-five minutes to the ice-skating rink that I grew up playing at—that Zoey came every day after school to watch our team play.

Now we'll be in an ice-skating rink with the entire wedding party, family and friends. I'm back up again as Zoey's doting boyfriend.

Finally... the position I was born to play.