Making a Play

by Victoria Denault

  I stare at the stars twinkling in the inky sky as I hit the first number on my speed dial.

  “Rosie?” His voice isn’t sleepy; it’s just filled with disbelief.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  I pause. How do I start this? What can I say? “I’m still really hurt.”

  “I would do anything to change that.”

  “You can’t,” I reply and I finally let myself realize that. “But I can.”

  He’s silent for a long minute. His breathing is shallow and fast. I open my mouth to speak but he cuts me off.

  “Rosie, don’t give up on me. I know I fucked up and I’m so sorry. I swear to God I would never knowingly—” He stops and takes a ragged breath. “You can’t end this. Please. Because I won’t be able to leave you. I can’t. It’ll kill me.”

  “I’m going to try and forgive you, Luc,” I say softly but like it’s an oath. A promise—to myself more than to him.

  “You are?”

  “Yeah. It’s all I can do,” I explain and close my eyes. “I’m not ready to leave you.”

  “Fleur, you don’t know how much that means to me.”

  “But, Luc, I don’t know how this is going to go,” I warn him calmly. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to… I mean, I can’t just jump back to the way things were. I’ll need time.”

  “Okay. Yeah. Whatever you need, just tell me.”

  “I don’t know what I need. I just… it’s going to be slow,” I explain.

  “I understand.” His voice is lighter. It has hope. “Rose, I know I’ve never told you before but I need you to know I—”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hang up before he can finish that sentence. I know what he’s going to say and I don’t want to hear it like this—out of guilt and anguish.

  I stare at the sky for a few more minutes and then go back inside and grab Jessie’s keys off the hook just inside the door. A few seconds later I’m driving toward town.

  Silver Bay is a small town, so I’d seen Tasha around before Adam started dating her. She was Callie’s age. Last summer I’d seen her working at a restaurant in town called the Captain’s Galley. It was a seafood place that I ocassionally liked to grab take-out lobster rolls from.

  Ten minutes later I swing open the heavy wood door of Captain’s Galley and step into the dark, kitschy interior. Tasha is wiping down a big round table near the front. The place is getting ready to close; there are no customers. She looks up, mouth open, ready to tell me the kitchen is closed, but she doesn’t speak when she realizes it’s me.

  “I need to talk to your friend,” I say simply. “Tell me where to find her.”

  “Oh.” Tasha falters and drops the rag in the middle of the table. She glances to her left, where the bar is, before looking back at me. “I just want you to know I didn’t know she was going to do that. I never would have let her. But in her defense, no one knew he was seeing anyone.”

  I don’t answer. I just follow her wide, nervous eyes as they slide toward the bar area again and I see someone blur by from the back. It’s Bri, in the same white shirt and black skirt as Tasha. She moves behind the bar and starts clearing some glasses left behind by the last patrons. I leave Tasha and march right over to her. There are three glasses in front of her: an empty martini glass, a half-empty wineglass and a tall curved glass filled halfway with a blue frothy beverage. She sees me coming. She doesn’t even look surprised or scared.

  “I guess I don’t have to ask what you want,” she says dryly.

  Before she can say another word, I reach for the abandoned blue drink and toss it in her face. She lets out a squeal as the bright blue liquid covers her face and stains her white shirt.

  “Fuck you,” I spit out and turn and retrace my steps toward the front door.

  Tasha is wide-eyed, both hands in front of her face as she tries to hide her grin.

  “You don’t even know what happened!” Bri screams after me.

  I spin back around and wish I had another drink to throw. “I don’t care what happened. I love him. He loves me. Even if you fucked him, that doesn’t change anything.”

  “He said your name,” she whimpers and wipes at her face with a pile of cocktail napkins.

  I freeze. I don’t want to freeze. I don’t want to hear what she has to say. I’ve decided I don’t care if he slept with her or not, but I want to do what Leah says and believe he didn’t. I don’t want to know that he did. Yet my legs stop moving.

  “He started nuzzling my neck and I started to pull off his underwear.” She takes a ragged breath.

  “Stop,” I say and turn back to face her. “Stop talking or I will fucking hit you.”

  “But then he said your name,” she continues, ignoring my warning. “And I just… I stopped.”

  “You stopped.” I repeat the words because they don’t feel real.

  “He’s rich and hot and he’s a rock star in this town,” she says, like the puck bunny she is. “I wanted him to want me, but he didn’t. And I’m not pathetic enough to fuck a guy who thinks I’m someone else.”

  “But you are pathetic enough to lie in bed with my boyfriend and let me think you fucked him,” I counter, still not forgiving her despite her tears and humiliation. “You saw me standing there and you didn’t say a word.”

  “And now I don’t regret that choice,” she snaps back. She gives up blotting the blue drink from her shirt and throws the napkins into the sink in front of her. “Just get out before I call the cops.”

  “I’ll go,” I agree and nod. “But if you ever try something like this again, I’ll ruin more than your shirt.”

  I storm out of the restaurant to the sound of Tasha snickering.

  Chapter 41

  Luc

  My cell phone is resting on my chest as I lie on the porch swing on my back deck and stare out at the lake. I glance at it still in disbelief she actually called me and told me she was going to try to forgive me. I felt like I didn’t deserve that but at the same time I am so overwhelmingly grateful. The thought of losing her forever is unbearable.

  I decide to head inside and take a shower. I hadn’t done that yet today. Actually, I hadn’t done it yesterday either. Maybe the hot water will relax me enough that I can actually get some rest. In the bathroom I peel out of my clothes mechanically. Turning the shower as hot as I can stand it, I step inside and close the glass door. I stand there for long, timeless minutes, letting the water bounce off my body with my eyes closed and my head bowed under the rainfall showerhead.

  What if she can’t do it? What if she never really gets past this? What can I do to make sure that she does? She says things will be slow—and different. Will she let me touch her—like, even kiss her or hold her hand? Will she keep recoiling from me like I’m a disgusting pig? I will give her all the time and space she needs, I vow to myself. I’ll let her set the pace no matter how hard it is for me, because I deserve to be tortured. Hours before I ruined everything, I had decided I was going to ask her to move to Vegas with me next year. Now, even if she is trying to forgive me, she won’t be ready for that. She may still be considering Europe. I will wait for her if she still wants to spend a whole year there. I will be miserable but I will wait.

  I stay in the shower until my skin prunes and the hot water makes my limbs heavy and then I turn off the water and open the door. Grabbing my towel, I rub it over my hair and wander, dripping wet and naked, into the bedroom. As I wrap the towel around my waist, I glance toward the bed and freeze.

  I must be hallucinating. This can’t be happening. Rose is standing there completely naked. Her big dark eyes are looking up at me tenderly. It’s a look I haven’t seen on her face since this whole nightmare began—a look I didn’t expect to see for a very long time to come.

  “Can I sleep here tonight?” she asks softly.

  I nod because I’m too shocked to speak. I walk over to join her by the bed because I don’t know what else to do. She puts her hands on my ba
re chest and her fingertips make trails through the water still clinging to my skin.

  I want to touch her. To hold her. To kiss her. Honest to God, as pussy-whipped as it sounds, I want to make love to her, but I’m scared to do anything at all. She said she needed time and that things couldn’t be the same. I don’t know what that really means or what I can or can’t do, so I do nothing.

  I reach up and place my hands over hers on my chest and speak for the first time.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I know.”

  She untucks the towel around my waist before pulling back the sheets and motioning for me to climb in with her. As soon as I’m under the sheets she snuggles into me, her head resting on my chest, her right leg lying across my thighs. I wrap my arm around her.

  “You didn’t have sex with her, Luc,” she whispers into the dark room.

  I officially have no idea what’s coming next. I don’t know what to say or do. I hold my breath. Her fingertips dance over my pecs and down to my abdomen to my hip.

  “She told you that?”

  “Yes. After I threw a drink in her face.”

  My breath comes out in a hard whoosh that becomes a laugh. I can’t help it. I’m not in a humorous mood by any means but the thought of little Fleur—so sweet and serene—tossing a drink in someone’s face is so absurd I can’t help but laugh.

  I feel her smile against my chest. “Yeah. It was epic.”

  I shift as a wave of relief covers me like a tidal wave. Her cheek slides off my chest as I turn toward her and it lands on my bicep. I finally feel like I can touch her so I reach out and tentatively slide my fingers into her silky dark hair, pushing it off her cheek. In the dim moonlight making its way in through the windows, I can see her big dark brown eyes staring at me. She looks so calm and peaceful but also exhausted.

  “I didn’t think I did it,” I reply, the humor from earlier gone. “But I promise you I will never put myself in a situation where I don’t know ever again. I’d never do that to you again. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you that I ever put you in this situation to begin with.”

  She doesn’t say anything; she just tilts her head up and presses her lips to mine. My whole body floods with different feelings now—love and lust. I want her so much, so suddenly, it’s making me dizzy. But I refuse to make the first move. She has to be okay with it, and if she’s still too emotionally raw, I will wait. I may spontaneously combust, but I will wait.

  So I let her take the lead and match her rhythm. Thankfully, she deepens the kiss and her tongue slides gently into my mouth and then I hold back my response, making sure I don’t dominate this the way I usually do. She slides her hand over my hip and to my cock, which is as hard as titanium. When she wraps her hand around it and gives it a solid tug, I can’t hold back a moan. I let my hands slide over her bare ass.

  “Luc?” she whispers into my neck before giving me a little bite.

  “Yeah?”

  “Can you please fuck me like this never happened?” The mix of her timid voice and her crude words is beyond hot. And she doesn’t have to ask twice.

  I roll her over so I’m directly on top of her and grind my erection against her hip and move one hand between her legs. I slide two fingers into her easily thanks to her slickness, and she arches her back and holds my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin.

  “Luc, no teasing,” she begs.

  I move my hands away and give her a long, hard kiss and she lifts her legs and bends her knees as I start to push into her. I do it slowly. I’m not trying to tease her—I just want to feel every second of it. She’s tight but slick and hot and my balls tighten instantly. I’m not going to last long tonight.

  “I need you,” she pants in my ear as she tilts her hips with my thrusts.

  “You’re it for me, Rosie,” I confess, covering her body with mine and burying my face in her neck as my hips keep pumping into her glorious heat. “I want this… I want you… forever.”

  “Touch me,” she begs and I lift up slightly on one arm and snake a hand between us. My finger rubs her clit once, then twice, and then she tightens around me and I choke out a breath and come like a cannon going off. Luckily, she’s right there with me.

  Fuck. She’s so fucking perfect. And I almost lost this. I almost lost her. I can’t believe I was so careless. I collapse on her again and roll over, pulling her with me, holding her to my side as I struggle to catch my breath. I kiss her forehead. She snuggles into me; her breath is deep and even in seconds. My last thought as we fall asleep is that I love her—and I need to tell her.

  Chapter 42

  Rose

  The bar is dead tonight, which makes my shift all the more painful. Like I need it to drag on more than it already is. Every day for the last six days has been painful and slow. I can’t believe how much I miss Luc. What really keeps me up at night—even more than the fact that his big, warm body isn’t naked beside me like it has been every night since we worked things out—is that in two more weeks a Luc-free existence may be a long-term reality.

  My trip to Europe is looming and when I get back to Silver Bay, he won’t be here. We don’t know where he will be—he was working that out now—but it won’t be Silver Bay. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t know what team he’ll be playing on, but he hasn’t yet asked me to join him anywhere. Or maybe he isn’t ready for that just yet.

  I zombie-walk through my shift. Cole knows something’s up because I’ve been like this since Luc left for Vegas, where he is meeting with the Vipers management.

  “What’s with the sad face? Do you get more tips if you look depressed or something?” he asks with a wink.

  “I just… I miss him,” I confess and it makes me feel weak just saying it aloud. “And I don’t want to be away from him like this next year.”

  “You guys will work it out,” Cole assures me, his hazel eyes twinkling. “You didn’t go through all that drama for nothing, I’m sure.”

  I nod. Oh, how I want him to be right.

  A couple hours later, after we’ve ushered out the last customer and I’ve cashed out, I say good night to Cole and head into the warm night air. I turn the corner into the parking lot and there he is—sitting on Claudette’s hood staring at me with a small smile.

  I squeal and run to him. He jumps off the truck and catches me as I hurl myself into his arms. He swings me around, laughing at my overreaction. When he pulls back and sees I’m crying, his smile disappears and he cups my face in his hands.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I just… Sorry.” I feel embarrassed as I sniff and try to get a grip. “I just missed you so much and you aren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow night!”

  He smiles. “I’ve missed you, too. Things wrapped up sooner than expected so I checked flights and was able to get out on a late one tonight instead of waiting until tomorrow.”

  He bends his body over me and kisses me softly, his big hands still gently holding my face. The kiss goes on forever—slow and needy—as we revel in the luxury of being able to enjoy the taste and feel of each other again. When we pull apart, my lips are swollen and my heart is pounding. I look at him—really look at him—and realize he looks beautiful but tired. Exhausted, actually.

  “Keys, please, Fleur.” He holds up his hand and I drop the keys to Claudette into his big, open palm. I’ve been driving her to work, at his request, while he was away. Esmeralda is officially retired.

  On the ride to his house he talks about his meetings. The owner of the team, the coach and the general manager were all there. I guess there’s a lot of smoothing over that needs to be done when they publicly shop one of their top players but don’t end up trading him. The management expressed their concern over his performance, over the team’s general subpar attitude, and Luc explained what he could do to turn things around. When not dealing with the management, he was dealing with the media, who were all over him hoping for some dramatic scene. I�
�d been glued to TMZ Sports. The most they got the whole time he was in Vegas was video footage catching him leaving the gym one day. They’d asked him, “Luc! Do you have anything to say about your girlfriend partying without you in L.A. all summer?”

  Without breaking his brisk pace across the parking lot, he said, “My girlfriend has been in my hometown, with me, all summer. I have no comment on my ex-girlfriend’s social life.”

  That little clip just went up this morning. I had decided not to ask him about it over the phone. But now that he’s in front of me, I can’t stop myself.

  “Did the TMZ Sports thing at the gym piss them off?” I ask quietly.

  “No. I’d already told them about you,” he explains and gives me a wink. “Turns out Maurice remembered you from the charity event and thought you were a very sweet girl. He didn’t look pissed. He actually looked impressed.”

  I feel a flood of relief at that. “So you’re staying in Vegas?”

  “For now,” Luc explains and I can tell by the serene look on his handsome features that he’s okay with that. “They still think I have a lot to prove, on the ice. But I’m confident this season will be a good one for me. And that’s all I can do. Be great and win back their confidence in me.”

  He rolls into his driveway and we get out of the truck. After he grabs his bag out of the truck bed, I lead him up the front porch and use my key to open the door. I’m unofficially living here now.

  He drops his bag on the floor and I tug on his hand, pulling him up the stairs to the master bedroom. He steps inside our room and I watch him carefully. While he was gone I just added some photos in dark wood frames to the wall near the bathroom. He sees them right away and walks over to them. He smiles at the one of him and Jordan in their Silver Bay Bucks uniforms when they were seventeen. The smile widens at the shot of him at fourteen fishing at the lake with a sixteen-year-old Devin. When he sees the photo of him and me from Cole and Leah’s wedding, he reaches out and runs his fingers over the frame. “This is the second best addition to the entire house, ma Fleur.”