Chapter 41

Polly

D uring Luca’s impromptu roadside proposal, several convincing arguments were used to sway me to marry him, and it seemed he was correct with most of them.

As he indicated, once word had spread that I was not a two-headed Australian hussy, was not pregnant, and that Luca and I had settled down in a normal home, not some kind of swinging-from-the-chandeliers Bi-sex den, the media speculation all but died. He was back on the ice, and his once-tarnished golden boy reputation was back to beaming.

Interest remained, of course. Luca was a big-time hockey star, but thankfully, the paparazzi who hounded us wherever we went for my first weeks in the States began to see us as just another boring married couple, not two walking dollar signs.

Perhaps that transition was aided by Luca’s absence. He’d been away more than he’d been home, playing in Canada, California, and Seattle in as many weeks, his ice time increasing with each game. And this week, just two before Christmas, while he was off chasing pucks and blocking shots in Minnesota, I was home, working on the house, toilet training Toto, and facilitating my cooking classes with hearing-impaired tenth graders at a local school.

Another point he’d been bang on the money with. My mum. Since that first olive branch call in Tilly’s car, we’d been in touch several times, and not a peep had been peeped about kids, disappointment, reputations, or God’s plans for my immortal soul.

Would her nonjudgemental support continue? I doubted it, but it was a start.

So many aspects of my life changed dramatically in such a short time, I could hardly recognize it as my own.

I had real-life human friends.

Meaningful work I loved.

I lived in a mansion on the beach with a picket fence and a garden, and a husband I fucked on every surface possible within that house … and outside of that house, and on FaceTime when he was away.

Oh, and who could forget I had the smartest, cutest puppy that ever existed?

But some things stubbornly lingered. My temper for one. And who could forget my old friend doubt.

When will the novelty wear off? When will the other shoe finally drop? Could just me ever be enough?

In the last point, the world around us seemed to think not.

If I had a dollar for every well-meaning person who enquired as to when Luca and I would be starting a family, I could have paid off Luca’s mortgage and bought the mansion next door with the change. Hiding the constant hurt. Wondering if that, too, would one day disappear like the paparazzi’s lenses had, combined with the weight of concealing the truth from Luca, consumed too much of the energy I wanted to devote to my new life. Yet, I still couldn’t find the strength to confess.

And why?

Because I knew.

Once he knew, everything would change.

Everything I had come to love would disappear because I was a liar who didn’t deserve it.

No matter how much yoga I did, no matter how much weight I lifted, or how fast I ran, I could not escape the sense that I could never outrun my past.

That feeling reached its peak when a very pregnant Clara greeted me at the front door of the home she once shared with my husband.

“Thank you for coming over on such short notice. I didn’t expect to find and settle on another house so quickly, and with this in the way,” she rubbed her belly and sighed, “the timing couldn’t have been worse.”

Accepting the warm hug without the awkwardness I felt in our first meeting at the training session, I gave her a little squeeze and then pulled away as soon as I could. Okay, so maybe it was still awkward.

“Come in, please. I want us to be friends.”

Yeah? Well, I just want to get Luca’s things and get the hell out of here. Squeezing my hand and leading me into the lounge. “Luca was always squeezing my hand, and I loved it. He’s such a sweet and affectionate man.”

Nodding, my eyes roamed the vast expanse of what felt like a giant waste of space. Nothing about this house screamed Luca. Since he hadn’t called the place home for several months and Clara and Dallas, who had secretly moved in, were moving out, it was bound to be sparse. But it wasn’t just that. There was none of his warmth of character, no hominess at all. It was just a big, concrete box.

The analytical glare I cast over every square inch of the place must have been mistaken for approval. “It’s an impressive home, isn’t it? Luca picked it out especially for me when we got engaged. He was always so thoughtful like that.”

“Did he now?” I deadpanned, picking up on Clara’s melancholy, he was mine first vibe. I was impressed. But not intimidated. Mainly because it was a play I would absolutely have been making had the roles been reversed. I would have done it better, too. “He really is an affectionate, thoughtful, well-hung, and insatiable man.”

Clara blushed, and I hoped my point was made.

“Can I get you a drink? Maybe a coffee? It’s beginning to get chilly out there.”

“Thanks, but the Uber is waiting. If it’s okay, I’ll just grab the boxes and head out.”

“Sure, the boxes are through here but let me give you a quick tour of the house before you go.”

She set off without waiting for me to reply, leading me through what looked like a deserted museum more than a home. “Did you see the photos of Luca on the ice with that little boy? Gosh, he looked so handsome. He will make such a great dad someday.”

My stomach twisted. “Yeah, I did. They were really cute, but I really do have to go, Clara. I have to pop in to see Marta and Ana before I head to work.”

She stopped and spun on her heels to face me. “Oh, you’re close with them? They were never very nice to me, especially Anabela. She had it in for me from the start.” There was no way in hell I was discussing Luca’s family, so I reminded Clara again of my waiting ride. “You caught an Uber? Hasn’t Luca bought you a car yet? That was my first anniversary gift. He’s such a perfect partner.”

Okay, so she didn’t take the hint.

I swallowed my annoyance and tried to remain chill. “Luca doesn’t need to buy me a car because I’m quite capable of doing it myself. There’s no point at the moment, though, because I still don’t have my US license.”

“Oh, of course. I didn’t think about that. I suppose there’s not much point getting it right now, anyway. Not until you know that you’re more than a passing phase.”

Right. Pregnant or not, my new friend Clara, was one passive-aggressive compliment away from a bitch slap. Before I could wind up, she strode away and led me into the kitchen where I discovered we were not alone.

“You might want to let the Uber go, Polly. We need to have a chat.”

Sitting opposite Chris Luca’s manager, and Clara, his ex- whatever, I could not have been, or, I imagined, looked more pissed off. “Right, and tell me again why this is any of your business?”

“Because,” Clara sighed, tucking her immaculately bleached hair behind her ear. “Luca and I spent over eighteen months together, and I care about him.”

“Yeah, you care so much you got knocked up by another dude and ditched him at the altar.” The expected twinge of regret or remorse failed to appear on Clara’s face. What a bitch. I slapped my hands against the table and stood. “As lovely as this little chat has been, I need to leave and never look at either of your faces again. Now, are there boxes of Luca’s things, or was that just a rouse to get me here?”

Chris grabbed my hand and held me in place. “There are, in fact, boxes, but they can wait. We have a lot to talk about.”

“See, I don’t think we do, Chris. I think we have nothing to talk about.”

“Trust me, I wish that was true but what you decide to do going forward will impact every aspect of Luca’s life, and since I am his manager, it also affects mine.”

“Again, I don’t think that’s something you need to concern yourself with. Especially since you won’t be his agent once he hears what happened.” I grabbed my bag from the ugly concrete table that looked like my uncle George’s backyard and slung it over my shoulder.

“Sit down, Ms. Hart. Or would you prefer me to call you Jasmine?” The yogurt and banana I’d shoveled down for breakfast curdled in my stomach. “I thought that might capture your attention.” Chris pushed out my chair with his foot and nodded towards it. “Sit.” He paused for me to do so, then cleared his throat. “Did you know Luca negotiated his first-year contract and his first two sponsorship deals without any representation? He did well. But I could have done better. Like I did when I cleaned up his … indiscretions and found him Clara.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that turned out well, didn’t it?” I snorted, pointing at the pregnant elephant in the room.

“Granted, there have been a few slight hiccups and miscalculations, but for the main part, the cards have fallen exactly where I lay them, and I won’t have you coming in here destroying what we worked so hard to create.”

“We?” I gasped, looking back and forth between the two. “You’re a we? What, are you a couple? Is that your kid? What the fuck is going on here?”

“Eww.” Clara gagged, “Chris is my brother, not my lover.”

“Your brother?” I took a double take, “I thought your last name was Nightwing?”

“It’s called a stage name, darling. God, you really are just as stupid as Luca.”

The room began to spin as my mind began to connect the dots “You’re the one that set Luca and Clara up? You leaked the photos.” I whispered.

“Ahh, look at that, sis. Maybe she’s not so dumb after all.” Like a true Bond villain, Chris stood and poured himself a scotch from a glass decanter on the nearby side table. “I had too. I told Clara that idiot Dallas couldn’t give her the life she wanted, but she didn’t believe me until Toronto. Even after Luca did what he did, the hockey world couldn’t wait to forgive their golden boy. Clara couldn’t claim the baby was actually Luca’s, because she’d told Dallas and half New York they’d never slept together. Rehab was supposed to by us time to fuck off Brookes, and for Luca to clean himself up, and win Clara’s heart back. Flying to Australia and falling in love with some cheap slut who can never give him the life he truly wants, was not part of the plan.” After that, I knew what was coming next.

“We know your history, Polly. Your former friends lined up around the block to tell us all about the pills, the parties, and the wild sex. Unlike them, we also know you can’t have children, and that dumbass Luca has no idea. Now, I’m sure he has told you all about the horrible childhood he suffered at the hands of that drunk he called Dad.”

He paused, swirled his drink then took another sip, wincing as it burned the back of his throat. “Don’t you think that’s why he was so anxious to marry you? To buy that big house you have the gall to call home? He wants to fill it with children, Polly, and out of the two of you.” he said, pointing between me and his sister, the smiling, serene picture of innocence rubbing circles on her pregnant belly, “... only she can give him that. Don’t you think he deserves it? Don’t you think he deserves his own real family?”

Yes, he does. There was no doubt Chris was playing me. Hitting me where it hurt. But like a noxious weed seeking air in Dad’s concrete garden, his words were finding all my cracks. Thriving.

“You don’t give a shit about what Luca wants or deserves.” I spat, my voice slowing cracking. “You’re after his money and are willing to manipulate him into getting it.”

“But didn’t you manipulate him, too?” Clara snapped, her cool, calm, and collected exterior finally breaking. “You knew he wouldn’t want you when he found out you were barren, and that’s why you haven’t told him.”

“It’s not the same thing.” I wept, strangled by fear, and trying to convince myself as much as Clara. “I didn’t do it for money. I did it because I love him.”

“Do you think he’ll believe that when he finds out you lied? When he sits down and looks at your past and realizes it’s all been another one of your little games? Do you think … do you really think he thinks you’re worth giving up his dream for?”

My words caught in my throat and the delay told them everything they wanted.

“Excellent.” Chris said. “Just as we thought. Now. Here’s what you’re going to do, Polly. You’re to go home, pack your things, and leave. You can wait for Luca to get back from Minnesota, or you can leave him a note. Honestly, I don’t give a shit. But Clara is due in a few weeks, and you need to be long gone by the time the baby comes.”

I closed my eyes, pictured Luca holding her child. Felt the weight of his joy, my shame and grief, perceived betrayal and injustice, collapse upon me, and forced them back open.

“Do as we say when we say, and we will make sure you never have to worry about money again.”

“I don’t want your money.” I whispered, my voice, an unrecognizable ghost, broken, almost demure like Mum always wanted.

“Fine, do it for free then.” Chris pointed toward the door. “I don’t give a shit. Just lose that phone I gave you and be gone before Christmas.”