When I finally fall asleep that night, it’s in his arms, and I fight off heaviness in my heart. Things are too perfect, and life can’t be this perfect. Then I feel his lips on my neck as he says, “Good night, gorgeous.”
Chapter 28
Miller
I grab the bag from my closet and walk over to toss it on my bed. “You always wear that face when you take out that bag,” Layla says from the middle of my bed, where she sits wearing one of my T-shirts. Her legs cross under her, and her wet hair hangs loose. It’s been three weeks since she first came home with me for the weekend. Since that first night, she’s spent every single night with me when I’m home. We haven’t actually spoken about it, and I’m itching to talk about it. But I don’t want to mess up the good thing we have. “It’s not going to be long this time.” She laughs. “It’s for four days.” She takes her hair and ties it on top of her head. “Last time, it was seven.”
“I hate leaving,” I tell her, tossing my things into the bag and then going into the closet to grab a couple of pairs of jeans and a few sweaters.
She rises, scooting over to me on her knees. “But just think of the phone sex that we have.” She moves the bag away and kneels in front of me on the bed, her head falling back so I can kiss her lips. I keep waiting for the day when it’s not like the first time with her. I keep waiting for the day that I don’t want her every single time I look at her. I keep waiting for the day when my heart doesn’t beat faster with her beside me. I even check Google, and they haven’t given me anything. She’s at every home game now, and she waits by my car or just drives straight here and waits for me when there aren’t games, and I’m home. I cook for her, and we just hang out with each other. I feel like I know everything about her, but I have this gut feeling she is keeping something from me. I don’t know what it is, and I’m just waiting until it’s the right time to ask her. “Plus, it gives my vagina some time to recoup.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “You could just admit that you miss me when I go away.” I lean down and kiss her lips.
“Oh, here we go,” she says, laughing. “I told you the last time I missed you.”
“No.” I shake my head and walk away from her, going to grab some boxers. “You said you missed my cock.”
“Well, obviously, your cock is on you.” She laughs. “So in the end, I missed you, too.” I pack my bag and put it off to the side.
“What time do you have to be at the airport?” she asks me as I walk over to my side of the bed.
“Nine,” I tell her, slipping my shorts off, and my cock springs free. It’s always ready when she’s around. I slide into bed, and she takes off her T-shirt, throwing it beside her bed. She meets me in the middle of the bed, kissing my chest.
“What are your plans for the week?” I ask.
“I have dinner with Candace tomorrow,” she tells me. “Where we are going to watch our men play hockey.” I laugh. “Then I have lunch with Grandma Nancy the day after.”
“Last time you had lunch with her, she sent me a singing e-card about my dick,” I tell her, and she laughs. “It’s not funny. I opened it in front of the guys, not knowing what it was.”
“It’s not my fault that you sexually satisfy her granddaughter, and she’s proud of it,” she says, kissing me. That night, I barely slept just like every other night before I leave. She gets up with me the next day at seven. We don’t actually get out of bed until eight, and then I am rushing around the house, making sure I have everything. I kiss her goodbye at the door, not wanting to go.
When I get to the airport, I’m the last one to arrive right after Ralph, who mopes onto the plane. “I swear, you two are like love-sick puppies and make me want to gag,” Manning says, fastening his seat belt.
“I’m not a love-sick puppy,” I say to him. “I just didn’t sleep last night.”
“Yeah, which is how you look every single time we go away.” Manning points out. “I’m disappointed in you.” He points at me. “I expected better from you.”
I laugh. “What the hell does that mean?” I ask him, buckling my own seat belt.
“It means you weren’t supposed to fall in love with her so fast,” Manning says, shaking his head, and my hands drop to my waist.
“I’m not in love with her,” I say, chuckling anxiously.
Ralph, on the other hand, throws his head back and laughs louder than I’ve ever heard him laugh. “She’s got you wrapped around her little pinky.” I ignore both of them as they laugh, and the plane takes off. I close my eyes and drift off to sleep, only waking when the plane touches down. “Fuck, it’s freezing,” I say when we get off the plane in Ottawa.
We get onto the warm waiting bus, and I take my phone out to see that she already texted me.
Gorgeous: Six hours gone, a fuckton more to go.
I laugh and respond.
Me: Is this you telling me you miss me and not my cock?
Gorgeous: Ugh, so needy. Fine, I miss you.
I laugh and put my phone down and look over at Manning, who just glares at me. “Sick.”
We get off the bus and walk into the hotel, grabbing our room keys. “Are we having a team dinner?” I ask both of them as we walk to the elevator to go up to our rooms.
“We meet down in the lobby in thirty,” someone says.
The three of us nod and walk into the elevator since all of us are getting off on the same floor. I scan my key to the door walking in, tossing my bag on my bed. I take my phone out to FaceTime Layla, who answers right away.
“Well, hello there,” she says, smiling, and I see she’s wearing a sweater and sitting on her couch. “Did you just get in?”
“Yeah,” I say. “We are meeting for dinner in twenty minutes.”
“Oh, that sounds like fun.” She smiles at me.
“You’re gorgeous,” I say to her. Her smile gets even bigger, and Manning’s words play over and over in my head. You love her. “So,” I say, “let’s talk about the fact you miss me.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “I knew that was going to come back and bite me in the ass,” she huffs out. “Fine, you want to hear it?”
“I want to hear it,” I tell her. “If you want to tell me.”
“Ugh, you are so annoying sometimes.” She rolls her eyes. “I miss you,” she says softly, “which is as irritating to you as it is to me.”
“Why is it irritating?” I ask, laughing at her now.
“It’s irritating because it makes me feel needy,” she says. “And I’m an independent woman.” I see her face get angry. “It’s silly. You are only going to be gone for four days. Jesus, it’s not like you are going off to war.”
“Gorgeous.” I say her nickname softly, and she groans.
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Don’t with that voice.”
“What voice?” I ask, shocked.
“The voice that goes low right before you lean over and kiss the ever-loving shit out of me.” She throws her hands in the air. “It might be my favorite,” she says, and now I roll my lips. “After the one where you talk with your teeth together because then I know you’re going to give it to me good.”
I try not to laugh. “First thing, I always give it to you good.”
“I agree with that.” She smirks now.
“Second, I don’t have different voices,” I tell her, and she laughs.
“You so do,” she says. “There is the one that is normal. Like now,” she says. “Then the second that goes down soft when I do or say something that you really really like.” She puts up her second finger. “Then the third is when I get under your skin and fight with you. You snap, and there is that vein right there.” She points at her forehead. “That bulges out right before you snap.” She gives me a sly smile. “That one I love, too, because the last time you used that one, I had your fingertips bruised onto my hips for five days.” She winks at me.
“Well, if I was home right now …” I watch her. “I would definitely be
the third one.”
“Really?” she says, and I see her eyes get cloudy. We are no strangers to sexting or phone sex. “What would you do to me?”
“Take your pants off,” I tell her, and she just looks at me.
“They were off the minute you texted me that you landed,” she tells me, and I put my head back and laugh.
“If you keep talking like that,” I say. “I might think you really like me.”
She throws her head back with a groan, and I laugh now as she gets frustrated. She puts the phone down and takes off her sweater, showing me that she is fully naked. “If you aren’t going to help me, I am going to have to take things into my own hands.”
“Don’t you dare,” I tell her, and she glares at me. “Now, lie down and spread your legs.”
She doesn’t argue with me, and in five minutes, we are both coming. “Now I have to go to dinner.” I tuck myself back into my pants and walk to the bathroom to clean up.
“I’m going to go soak in a tub,” she says, getting up and walking back to her bathroom naked. “I’ll send you pictures.”
I shake my head when I hear a knock on the door. “Later, Adams.” She disconnects as I walk over to the door and find Manning and Ralph waiting for me.
“You get your fix in?” Manning says, looking up from his phone. I laugh at him, and we walk out to eat.
The game against Ottawa is rough, and we lose three to one. We get on the bus right after the game and make our way to Montreal for a game the next day. I listen to Layla’s show the next day, and even though I know she is going to rip me to shreds for the way I played, it still stings a bit. But she was right. My head was not in the game. I wish I could say it was better against Montreal, but I would be lying. Thankfully, I’m on the plane the next day while her show is on. I land, and I don’t bother texting her, opting to go straight to her house.
I park my car in her driveway seeing her car and another car I don’t recognize. When I spoke to her this morning, she sounded a bit off, but I didn’t say anything. I was going to text her when I got off the plane, but instead, I decided to surprise her here. Plus, I missed her. I get out of the car and walk up to her door, ringing the doorbell.
I turn to look around to look back at the car that is there, trying to figure out who it belongs to. The lock turns, and I look back with a smile on my face, expecting to see her. “He-” I stop speaking when I see a guy opening her door. “Oh.” He is standing there in jeans and a white button-down shirt. His blond hair is perfectly cut and to the side. I know this guy, but I can’t place him right now.
“Can I help you?” he asks, holding the door as my heart hammers in my chest. I must take too long to answer him. “Um, hello? Can I help you?”
My hand comes up, and I point at him. “Who are you?” I ask. My mind spins around and around with so many questions and thoughts. The only thing I keep asking myself is where is Layla.
“Who am I?” he asks, pointing at himself. My heart is picking up so much speed and is racing so fast I hear it in my ears as it echoes.
“Who the fuck are you?” I don’t know what I’m expecting, but I do know that I’m definitely not expecting the words that come out of his mouth, crushing me. “I’m the husband.”
Chapter 29
Layla
I wash my hands in the sink and look in the mirror. This day has gone from happy that I was going to see Miller to fucking miserable because Richard decided it would be a good time to come to town and annoy the shit out of me. I’ve been ignoring his phone calls for the past five months, and this afternoon, there he was on my stoop as soon as I got home. Acting as if we are the best of friends, which we are not.
Walking out of the bathroom, I hear the front door close, and I wonder, or actually, I hope that he took the hint to fuck off. When I walk into the family room, I see him coming back into the house. I look at him, and my insides cringe, thinking of him. “I thought you left?” I tell him, folding my arms over my chest.
“I thought we were going to dinner.” He smiles at me, and I roll my eyes. That smile that all the ladies fall for, including me back in the day.
“I believe I said fuck no,” I tell him and then look at him, confused as to why he was at the front door, and then he came back in.
“Why were you at the front door?” I ask. I hear a car door close, and then the sound of the engine starting, and it sounds as if it’s in my driveway. That can’t be. Who else would come here?
“I think your boyfriend was here,” he says. My heart sinks to my stomach, and my legs shake as I run toward the door.
Opening the door, I run to his car as he takes off. “Miller!” I yell his name as the car speeds away.
“Oh my God.” I put my hand on my stomach. “Oh my God,” I say over and over to myself. Running back into the house, I put my shoes on and grab my keys. “You need to be gone when I get back.” I run around the room, trying to find my purse.
“Now,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets, “is this any way to treat your husband?”
“Ex. Husband.” I point out. “Ex-fucking-husband.” I’m so angry that he’s here. I’m angry that he got to Miller first, and I’m angrier that I wasn’t the one who told him. That he found out from Richard.
“You know we are meant to be together,” he says, and I look around to see if I can throw anything at him. I can’t believe that I fell for his bullshit. I close my eyes, wishing today away. Wishing it was yesterday, and I’d forced myself to tell Miller the truth.
“You got what you came for,” I tell him, pointing at the papers in the manila envelope. “Now you can go back to the hole you climbed out of.”
“I was hoping we could talk,” he says, and I just laugh. “I’ve changed, Layla.” His voice goes soft, and I look at him, shocked that he would start this again. Shocked? Yes. But I don’t know why I should be surprised.
“That’s good to hear,” I say. “I’m sure your wife is going to be happy to hear that.”
“We aren’t together anymore,” he says, and I shrug. “I never got over you.”
“That’s too bad,” I say. “Now close the door on the way out,” I say, ignoring him when he calls my name. I run to my car and dial Miller at the same time. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” I plead with the universe, but the call goes straight to voice mail.
“Miller, please,” I say, ignoring the tears that are now coming down. “I can explain,” I tell him, and I wipe the tear away from my cheek. “Please,” I say in a whispered plea. I make my way over to his house, calling him every minute. It goes straight to voice mail, and his voice mail’s now full of all my messages. I speed there, my heart hammering in my chest, and I pull up right as he’s taking his bag out of his trunk. He looks back at me, and I know that face, I’ve seen that face. It’s been my face not too long ago. His eyes shielded without emotion, and I can only imagine how hurt he must be.
I put the car in park and jump out, calling his name. “Miller,” I say, running to him as he ignores me and walks into his house. “Please, I can explain.”
“Not interested,” he says, his voice sounding defeated.
“Please, you have to give me a chance to explain,” I say to his back, and it kills me that we have to do this here in the middle of his driveway. It kills me that I am not doing it while holding his hand as I wanted.
“A chance to explain?” He laughs bitterly, dropping his bag. “A chance to explain? You’ve got to be kidding me.” He stops walking and turns around to face me.
In my whole life, I’ve only ever regretted one thing. Now standing here in front of him, seeing the hurt and pain on his face, I regret doing this to him. I want to go to him, and I want to hold his face while I tell him my side of the story. I want to tell him everything.
“I don’t think I need you to explain anything to me. I pretty much got the whole story. Your husband sort of explained everything that needs to be explained,” he says, his voice tight. I want to go to him. I want
to sit him down and tell him the secret that I’ve been keeping from him. The secret that I never told anyone. The secret that I was so afraid to tell him, yet I knew that if we continued, I would have no choice.
“He’s my ex-husband,” I tell him, making sure he at least knows that. That whatever comes from this conversation, he’ll know I’m not an adulterer. “And it was a long time ago.”
“Do you think that makes it better?” he snaps, and the tears that I forced myself not to shed in front of him come now. I can’t even try to stop them as they pour down my face. “You lied to me.” The four words cut me off at the legs. “I told you from day one that I hated lies.”
“I never lied to you,” I say softly.
He laughs now. “All this time, you had trust issues with me. You doubted me all the time.” He looks at me, shaking his head. “You made me jump through fucking hoops to make sure you could trust me. What a fucking idiot I was,” he says. “Because all this time, I was the one who should have had you jumping through hoops. I was the one who should not have trusted you.” He points at himself. “All this time, I wanted to show you how worthy I was of you, but in the end”—he looks me straight in the eyes—“you aren’t worth it.” He picks up his bag, his words cutting me to the core of my heart.
“Get the fuck out of here,” he says, turning his back to me and walking into the house.
My hands shake, and I jump when the front door slams shut, leaving me in the middle of his driveway. I turn to walk back to my car, and the whole time, my legs shake and threaten to give out as soon as I reach my car door.
His words hit me over and over again. “You aren’t worth it.” I pull out of his driveway in a daze, the tears pouring down my face. I don’t even feel them anymore.
Only One Chance Page 17
