CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

F inn

A clock ticks, and the light from outside is too harsh. The air conditioner spurts cold air at me. Noah and I sit in Coach's office. Mere inches separate us. Three tops, maybe two.

I slide my gaze to scrutinize the exact distance, but I'm possibly distracted by Noah's thigh. Did I ever pay attention to how muscular it was? How many other details have I overlooked? My fingers twitch, desperate to trail over Noah.

Coach Holberg clears his throat.

I snap my attention to him. Heat prickles the back of my neck. At any moment, I'll be full on blushing.

I spent the last twenty-four hours longing to be in Noah's presence again, and now I finally am, but we're sitting with Coach.

"I was planning to tell you today that Isaiah has formally retired. He wants to become a stay-at-home dad and not risk his body more. But there have been some disturbing news articles about you both that are more important," Coach Holberg says.

I'm silent.

Noah is silent.

"Now, I've spoken to your agents, but I need to hear from both of you, will this affect your game?"

"No, sir," Noah says.

It's the first time I've heard him speak, and the rumble of his voice causes my heart to rattle .

"Finn?"

I remember I'm not supposed to contemplate my husband's—God, we need a divorce before I can call him ex-husband, voice. Even if the voice is spectacular.

I shake my head.

Coach Holberg's eyes narrow. He's on to me.

I feel Noah's gaze on me briefly and stiffen.

"We are both committed to the team," Noah says.

"The fans will be disappointed."

"Do you want us to pretend to be back together?" Noah asks.

"That's an option? We should totally do that!" For the first time, hope moves through me. I lean forward. "You can move back into the apartment, and everything will be like before."

Noah's eyes widen, and he assesses me. "That's..." He licks his lips. His Adam's apple moves. Then he jerks his gaze away and looks at Coach. "Obviously, that would not be appropriate."

"Why? We've pretended to be together before! And everyone believed it!"

Hurt moves over Noah's face. "You're right. Everyone did believe it."

I blink, unsure why his voice wobbles. Did he want people not to believe we were together? I lean toward him, and I soften my voice. "What's wrong?"

Noah rises abruptly. "Coach, I assure you that Finn and I will both be professional. We are on different lines on the ice. This will not affect our games."

Then he leaves abruptly .

My insides slither together, and I draw my arms against my chest. I don't understand why Noah wasn't willing to do this. I mean, we got along. And it will help our careers.

"I would have done that," I say softly.

Coach Holberg sighs. "I'm sorry, Finn."

I'm silent.

"I can send him away."

I jerk my gaze to him, my mouth dropping open. "He's on the second line now."

"And you're still our priority, Finn. You've been here longer. You have a history of scoring goals. Look, I might not understand everything you're going through, but I have had breakups before."

I must look startled because he smiles.

"I know, it's shocking that I wasn't always middle-aged with a wife and two children."

"I knew you were once young."

"My son is your age." Coach Holberg flashes his proud dad smile, and I hope he will start talking about his son Oskar and his no doubt various spectacular traits before he remembers to ask me any more difficult questions. "You two married really young. I can't imagine my son marrying anyone yet. I'm not sure he's even dated." He shakes his head, smiling. "I admit, I didn't understand why you married, but it was clear that you and Noah have remarkable chemistry."

I jerk my gaze to him. I didn't think Coach was going to go there.

"It makes the rest of us feel we're all in a factory. Burning steel. Chemicals everywhere. Uncomfortable."

"I didn't realize."

"You fell in love, and clearly Noah loved you back."

I blink.

No, that's not true. Coach Holberg has it wrong. Noah went along with my plan after I explained it was the best way. But I was the one who proposed, I was the one who insisted we get married. Noah spoke about how our marriage was just for one year.

That's why I pushed for an annulment. I didn't want him to have to pretend to be with me. Wouldn't he want to have a life of freedom to experiment with other people? Why would he want to be with me? When he is a popular NHL star? On magazine covers and on TV?

But, of course, I can't tell Coach all those things. I can't let him know the extent to which Noah and I both lied.

"I invited Noah back to our apartment," I say finally. "And he said no."

My voice shakes when I say that statement, and Coach's brow furrows. Oh God, he probably never expected to have to dole out relationship advice.

Not that there is a relationship to which to dole out advice.

Noah even left the fucking meeting.

Obviously, he couldn't bear to be beside me. The two and a half inches between us were too small for him. Clearly, he would have preferred a bigger distance. Like 2.5 miles. Or 25 miles. Or...more.

God, does he want me to be on the other side of the country ?

Two days ago, we were fine. How could so much have changed?

"But there was a reason you wanted an annulment, Finn."

"Yes."

"Didn't you worry that that process might have been leaked?"

I bite my lip. I guess I should have worried about it. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

Coach frowns. "Finn, did you tell Noah you were looking for an annulment?"

"Um..."

Coach Holberg shakes his head. "And I thought your generation was cruel with text breakups. This is—"

He looks at me in deep frustration, but the only feeling I have is hope.

Is it possible Noah is upset with me about that? Not that I got the process leaked and risked our reputations? But that I wanted it at all?

I rise. "Thank you, Coach. This was a great meeting."

Coach Holberg blinks, and I hurry out.

NOAH

I am ready for this.

This will be like normal. Normal when Finn and I were together, I mean. Not normal like falling onto the ice.

I swallow my nerves and take the ice.

Something is different, and when I scan the crowd, I realize the crowd is silent. They're not cheering. I'm not Noah Fitzpatrick, husband of their beloved star player. Instead, I'm Noah Fitzpatrick, separated husband of their beloved star player, and they haven't decided yet whether to hate me. I feel their curiosity, their disappointment.

Most people loved our romance. I can feel them whispering and wondering whether we were a publicity stunt, or whether I've done something so horrible, so shocking that there was nothing Finn Fitzpatrick could do besides try to look for an annulment.

I fill my mind with good thoughts, and some of the lines from the affirmation soundtrack Finn played when we were in Vegas right before our marriage appear in my thoughts.

I've got this. I've totally got this.

I see a flick of black, and hurry toward the puck. I don't need the cheers and applause of the audience. I'm not here because I am Finn's husband. I'm here because I am good.

I steal the puck from our competition and pass it to Jorge. It slides across the ice, and I move after it, so he can pass it back to me. We continue passing the puck between us, avoiding Colorado players, until something on the ice changes.

I have a shot.

And so, I take it.

The puck whams into the goal, between the goalie's legs, and the light flashes.

Cheers erupt. The Blizzards' fans go crazy. It's our first goal of the night.

I did it .

I fucking did it.

We are now ahead, 1-0.

Joy bubbles through me, and when our line returns, I catch Finn's gaze. He beams at me with pride and shoots me two thumbs up.

Something settles inside me. Maybe he didn't want to remain married to me, but he was the best guy I ever met. I'm lucky to have known him as well as I did.

Then I think back to my goal.

I got it.

I did it.

I scored those goals when I played for Providence in the AHL. That's why Coach Holberg sent for me. Perhaps I can belong here on my own.

My heart beats happily in my chest. I want to recount the goal to Finn. I want to tell him everything.

But Finn isn't my person anymore. He's a teammate. Spending time with him in Coach's office was terrible. His hand was beside me, but not touching me. His scent and that Tom Ford cologne wafted around me.

Every cell in my body was confused, wondering why the subject of all my dreams could be so close, but not behave like a dream guy.

Because in my dreams, we're married. In my dreams, we're happy. My dreams, it seems, are the fantastical sort.

I let Luke and Troy lead me to a sports bar to celebrate. Pictures of Troy and Evan and Finn hang in the bar, and I try not to gaze too openly at Finn's smiling, 2-D face.

Glasses clink, people chatter, loud happy music blares.

"They're here!" Someone shouts, and suddenly drinks are being forced into our hands, women are fluttering their lashes and adjusting their halter tops to reveal more cleavage, and the room thunders with applause.

A twenty-something man in a tight Blizzards shirt slinks over to me. "I'm sorry to hear about your marriage."

"Uh, thank you."

He darts large doe eyes up to me. "I can help make you feel better."

I blink, and he stiffens.

"Sorry," he says.

"It's okay," I say hastily. "I wasn't expecting..."

"To be hit on?" His lips spread into a wide grin, and in another life he would be appealing.

But this is this life, and my heart is with Finn.

"Honey, every gay and bisexual guy in Massachusetts is a hockey fan now, and you're the star. You'll have no problem moving on when you're ready."

I jerk my head into a nod.

"I'll see you later." His voice rumbles in my ear, then he sashays away.

Luke chuckles beside me. "He's right."

"I don't want to date anyone," I say.

"I get it. I don't either," he says, and I frown. Luke hasn't gotten his heart broken. Maybe he wants his dates vetted like in Seeking Mr. Right.

I wait for Finn to join, but after an hour, I realize he won't be coming .

He's letting me have this celebration without him. I sit with his friends, in his favorite sports bar, and everything feels wrong.

God, I miss him.