Center of Gravity: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (An Ice Tigers Hockey Romance Book 2)

by Isabella Cassazza

  He shakes his head but pulls out his phone.

  Tyler picks up on the second ring. “Hey, guys. Or should I say, husband and wife?”

  “Hey, Tyler,” I yell toward the speaker. “And, yes, husband and wife it is.”

  “Yay.” That’s Lily’s voice in the background. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” I say, since my husband is still staring in disbelief at his decorated apartment. “We love your surprise.” And I do. These balloons make me happy. “I’m not sure how we’ll get inside, but we’ll figure it out. Thank you, guys.”

  “You’re welcome. It was nothing. Only took us half a day.” Tyler chuckles.

  “You weren’t supposed to say that,” Lily whispers, but it’s audible through the phone. Then she continues louder. “Don’t listen to Tyler. We had a blast. And now we know what the brothel couch looks like.”

  I laugh. “Did you try it?”

  She giggles. “It’s comfortable. Not sure about the yellow décor, though. But that’s for another day. Now enjoy your first day as a married couple.”

  “We’ll do that. Thanks again. See you tomorrow, Tyler. See you soon, Lily,” I say.

  “See you. I can’t wait for the announcement. I can already see some faces dropping to the floor. Should be fun.” Tyler’s voice is full of laughter. That remains to be seen, I think but don’t say.

  “Ciao,” I yell, but Matt has already ended the call.

  “What do we do with these things?” He grabs one balloon and holds it away from his body like one would a radioactive bomb.

  “We could put them in the spare room. I don’t think they filled that room as well. Let’s have a look.”

  “We could destroy them.”

  “No.” It’s the first time I slipped in front of Matt, pronouncing “no” like an Italian would with an open O, which makes it sound way more dramatic. Matt’s eyes widen at my outburst. My six-year-old, temper-tantrum self threatens to make an appearance, but I catch myself. “Please. It took them ages. Let’s not destroy them today. They could be our punching bags. Literally speaking. Whenever one of us needs to let off steam, we could punch a few.”

  “They won’t last forever,” my no-nonsense husband says.

  “Yeah, but they’ll last a while. They must have used helium to blow them up.” I want to pat myself on the back. The logical approach is always the best. “It’s logical.”

  He scratches his neck but doesn’t say a thing. But this time it’s a good thing.

  Without waiting for him, I make my way through the balloons, pushing them aside as I walk through the living room and take the staircase to the bedrooms.

  “No balloons upstairs,” I yell and open the spare one. “The spare one is empty. You can bring the first ones.” And that’s what he does. With a grumpy face. Audibly huffing and puffing as he walks up and down the stairs with hands full of balloons, while I’m sitting on the bed as told. He didn’t want me to strain myself—his words, not mine.

  I’m tempted to tease him about his nonexistent cardiovascular fitness, but I hold my tongue. He doesn’t like the balloons and is making a point. His physical stats are out of this world according to the team doctors, and I don’t want to make fun of him. Not when he’s doing something for me that he loathes. Or pretends to loathe. For the love of God, I can’t figure this man out, but I haven’t given up on him. Not yet.

  Our first task as a married couple takes us over an hour. I tried to count the white balls but stopped at over a hundred. No wonder our friends spent over half a day in here.

  Our friends. That’s what they are. At least for now. For the duration of this marriage.

  The world doesn’t look as gloomy as the Boston weather on this day anymore. But has a faint shimmer of hope on the horizon. Not sure how, but maybe, just maybe, I may have a future here. With Matt.

  My phones rings, interrupting my sleep. It’s 4:00 a.m. Without opening my eyes, I grab the phone on the bedside table.

  “Hel—”

  “Is this supposed to be a joke?” my grandfather yells. I let the phone drop next to me, not wanting my eardrums to burst.

  “I’m not sure. What do you mean?” I mumble.

  “Did you marry one of your hockey players? In Las Vegas of all places?”

  Shit. Please. This can’t be happening. We thought we had time until Monday to tell everyone. Technically, it’s Monday, but still the middle of the night on the East Coast.

  “I wanted to call you later—”

  “Call me later? You’re all over the internet. You and that… that….”

  “Matt is a forward.”

  “He’s working class. You’re a Ravelli.”

  And here we go. I don’t listen to his rant. I knew he’d react this way, but expecting and actually hearing him say the words are two different things. Instead of backing down, I drop my second bomb. “I’m pregnant,” I say while he’s still talking.

  Silence. Utter silence on the other end.

  “Did you say pregnant?”

  I nod; of course he can’t see me. I doubt he knows video calls exist outside the business world. “Yes. I’m expecting twins.”

  He ends the call.

  I laugh. Loud. I might have a nervous breakdown. But it’s done. My grandfather knows. It may be better that he didn’t say anything.

  A knock sounds on my door. “Come in.” I fall back on the bed.

  Matt’s head appears inside the door, illuminated by the tiny dots in the hallway. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Apparently, we’re all over the internet. My grandfather knows about us. And about the babies.”

  “The babies are all over the internet?”

  I shake my head. “Just our Vegas marriage. Come, let’s take a look.” I sit up and pat the bed next to me.

  Matt hesitates but then steps inside the room. I’m hit by a brush of his masculine scent when he plops down beside me and ruffles once through his hair. Matt and bed hair are a dangerous combination—sexy, yet vulnerable. I lick my lip. I never should have invited him into my bedroom. Now I’ll be forever haunted by the picture of him sitting on this very bed in tight boxers and a RAVELLIS shirt.

  Hold yourself together, Emilia. Now is not the time to think about how uber-sexy your baby daddy is.

  I tap on my phone and google our names and the latest news attached to them. And there they are. Several articles. On major online platforms.

  “Fashion Princess marries Hockey Hero” or even better “Billion-Dollar Heiress elopes with Hockey God.” But my favorite has to be “Mafia Princess gets hitched to Employee.” Employee? Seriously? Since when does the mafia have regular employees?

  The articles don’t say much, other than our wedding date and location. I wonder how much money the wedding chapel got for selling our private data. They’ll hear from our lawyer. Not that I expect much to come out of it; maybe it wasn’t even them, but someone did interfere with our privacy.

  “I’m not a ‘Hockey God.’” Matt reaches for the phone, and I hand it over. When our fingers brush, an electric shock runs through my body.

  “And I’m not a ‘Billion-Dollar Heiress.’ And just for the record, nor am I a ‘Mafia Princess.’”

  He shakes his head. “Now everyone will know before we have the chance to explain things.”

  “Yeah. It may be easier that way. The initial shock should have worn off when we make our announcement. And they don’t know about the babies yet. We can’t change it anymore. I want to try to sleep some more before I have to get up. Let’s drive together to the facility.”

  “Sure.” He gets up and leaves the room, while his male scent stays behind, engulfing me while I fall back asleep. For the first time in weeks, I sleep deep and sound.

  “Good morning, everyone. Thank you for coming here on such short notice.” It’s like déjà vu standing in front of the team as I did on my first day here. But instead of Rob, Matt is the one standing right next to me. “We have some news w
e wanted to share with you. Who hasn’t read any news online today?”

  No one lifts his hand.

  “So, you all know why we are here?”

  Most of the players nod.

  “Great. But what you don’t know is the story behind it. And just for the record, I’m not a ‘Billion-Dollar Heiress,’ and neither is Matt a ‘Hockey God.’”

  Tyler chuckles in the front row. But the others keep straight faces.

  “What I couldn’t find in any of the articles I read this morning is when and how Matt and I met.”

  Matt takes my hand and clears his throat. “Let me.” He bends down and kisses me on my forehead, and I sway into his body. God. We didn’t plan a kiss. But I’ll take any kiss I can get from this man.

  Matt steadies me and turns back to his waiting teammates. “Emilia and I met by chance when I went to Italy this summer. On—what would turn out to be—a very stormy night… weather-wise.”

  The first chuckles are audible in the room. Who is this man? Could it be that my stern husband has a sense of humor?

  “I didn’t know who she was. And even if I had known her last name back then, I’d never heard of Ravelli suits or the Group before. It’s safe to say I fell for her the moment I saw her.” Our eyes meet, and I want to imprint this moment in my brain cells until the day I die and, if possible, longer. Him looking at me as if he loves me. My heart jumps in my chest while I stare in his moss-green eyes.

  If it were only true.

  “But after a short romance, we had to part ways and never expected to see each other again.”

  I take over. “Luckily, the universe had other plans for us.” I squeeze his hand. “I found out soon after Matt had left Italy that I was pregnant, and we were trying to find a solution to be together again. Imagine my surprise when I was told to go to Boston to manage a hockey team. And I swear to everything dear to me, my grandfather didn’t know about Matt and me before he bought the Ice Tigers. It must be another sign from the universe that we were meant to be together.”

  Our story told this way sounds like a Hollywood movie. The happily ever after is in dire need of work, but the movie isn’t over.

  “I’m sorry we couldn’t tell you sooner about the babies and about us. But as you might know, the first weeks can be critical, and I wanted to find my role here without having to explain a relationship with one of my employees. I hope you’ve seen that Matt isn’t treated better than anyone else here, and I hope you’re happy for us. The soul of this organization, our lovely Mary, has worked wonders again, and we would like to invite you to celebrate our marriage with us. There’s a buffet waiting in the meeting room on the second floor.”

  At the mention of food, the players get up and one by one come to the front to congratulate Matt and me before they take off to the Italian buffet.

  The moment the last employee has congratulated us, Matt drops my hand. A bucket of ice-cold water could not have been more of a reality check. “That went better than expected. Let’s grab something to eat before there’s nothing left.” I turn away from him and lead the way, not wanting him to see the tears in my eyes.

  Just when I’m about to step into the elevator, my grandfather calls. “Hello.”

  “You need to give an interview. It’s a PR disaster. And you better make it look like you’re head-over-heels in love with that… player. Our credibility is at stake. He’s one of your employees, for God’s sake! Why did you have to be so foolish, Emilia?” I hold the telephone away from my ear to avoid lasting damage to my hearing. He’s livid.

  A warm hand takes the telephone from me. “Signore Ravelli, my name is Matt Walker. With all due respect, sir, I have to ask you to talk to my wife in a different way from now on. She’s doing everything she can to make the Ice Tigers a success and deserves some respect.” He pauses and looks at me. Not a sound is coming over the phone. No one, I repeat, no one dares to talk to my grandfather like that. Until now. Until Matt.

  “Are you still there, Signore Ravelli?” Matt puts the phone on speaker.

  “I’m listening.”

  My mouth falls open. That would be a first.

  “Good. Now to be clear, we’ll do everything to support your credibility. But make no mistake, I’ll do everything to protect my family, and Emilia is part of that family now.”

  “I need an interview with the two of you. Tell your love story. Make it believable.” My grandfather ends the call.

  No “Welcome to the Ravelli family.” No “I wish you all the best.” No “I’m looking forward to meeting you.” No “How are the babies doing?” I shouldn’t be surprised, but Matt doesn’t deserve this treatment. No one does.

  “How did you survive all these years without killing him?” Matt hands my phone back.

  “You’ll get used to him. It gets easier.” After over twenty years. Maybe. “Thank you, Matt.”

  “You’re my wife.” For now. “I hate that he treats you like this.”

  I swallow. But before I can say anything, my phone rings again with an unknown number. “Ravelli—um… Walker…. Yeah… it’s me. I’m still getting used to my new name—um, double name…. Thank you. We’re very happy. Yes…. We’ll be ready…. Yes, we’re already at the Ice Tigers’ headquarters.”

  “Who was it?” Matt looks straight into my eyes.

  “Gianluca. The TV crew will be here in about an hour. Are you sure about the interview? You don’t—”

  “I’m sure. I’m doing it for the Ice Tigers. I hate to say it, but your grandfather has a point. I’m your employee, and we have a no-fraternization policy, which we broke. People need to see we are in love.”

  But we aren’t. At least he isn’t in love with me. And me? I’m not so sure anymore.

  Chapter 16

  Emilia

  “You know, my favorite part was when you told the reporter about thunder and lightning exploding around you when you met for the first time.” Lily turns to me.

  “It was a magical evening.” Though I may have twisted the truth a teeny-tiny bit to make it seem more romantic. No one needs to know we ended up in bed together after what? Twenty minutes? It’s not something I’m proud of, but I don’t regret it either. Our interview has gone through the roof—viewer-wise. And half the country is in love with my gallant hockey knight, who called me “milady” twice during our interview.

  Who can resist a swoon-worthy love story? Sympathies were on our side the minute the interview went live. Matt is a professional in front of the camera. And he’ll do anything to protect our babies, even play the lovesick husband.

  If he only felt a fraction of the love he made the audience believe he feels for me in real life.

  “What do you think about these?” Lily holds two wooden trays in front of my face.

  “Uh… yeah… why not.”

  She drops them like hot potatoes.

  “Wait. I think I like them.” And I do. The wood is nearly black, and I can picture them in Matt’s living room. Our living room. Since a week ago. Since I moved in with him for real. “Sorry, I was just thinking about something else.” I pick up one of the trays.

  “You could place one on the end of the couch and one on the coffee table. It’ll look more organized and give structure. And hide the color.”

  I laugh. “That could work. You really like to decorate.”

  “I do. But Tyler and Danny aren’t much into décor. I did a little makeover when I moved in with them, but now, I can only sneak in something new here and there. That way they don’t detect the new stuff right away. They always complain about how much stuff is lying around.”

  “I like your thinking. Matt isn’t interested in décor stuff either. Must be a man thing. I told him I would take down the yellow stuff on the wall, and he shrugged and did it himself, because he didn’t want me to climb the ladder.”

  “That’s so sweet. I’m so glad he found you. He deserves to be happy. Both of you do.” She places her hand on my arm.

  Sweet is not a wo
rd I’d use in connection with Matt. Brooding and sexy is more like it. At least when he’s around me.

  A flushed woman with a warm smile joins us. “Now I’m all yours. Hi, Lily, how are you? Who is your friend?” She turns to me. “My name is Ellie. Welcome to Cozy Cottage.”

  “It’s so good to see you again, Ellie. How are you doing? And how is Johnny doing?” Lily hugs the woman.

  “I’m great. Johnny keeps asking about you. He can’t wait to visit your horses again.”

  “He’s so cute. Johnny is Ellie’s son.” Lily smiles at me. “Ellie, this is Emilia Ravelli. Her family owns the Ice Tigers.” She then turns from Ellie back to me.

  “Oh, it’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Ravelli. I saw your interview. It’s such a romantic story.” She shakes my hand a moment longer than necessary.

  “Nice to meet you too. But please call me Emilia. My last name is Ravelli-Walker now, and that takes ages to say.”

  Ellie laughs with all her heart. “Emilia it is.”

  “How old is your son?” I ask.

  “He’s two, nearly three. It’s a cute age. He loves dinosaurs and can tell me what he wants most of the time now.”

  I look at her hand but don’t see a ring, which doesn’t have to mean anything. Is she a single mom? That must be tough. Even with our circumstances, I’m glad I’ll have Matt to support me.

  “Here, that’s him.” She opens the gallery on her phone and shows us a picture of her son hugging a giant stuffed dinosaur.

  “He sure loves his dino.” God, the little boy is adorable.

  “He does. I’m so blessed to have him.” Her gaze lingers a moment on Johnny before she puts the phone away. “Do you want kids, Lily?” she then asks.

  “Yes. But we want to wait a few years.” Lily blushes. She and Tyler will be great parents one day.

  “How’s Tyler? He’s back on the ice, isn’t he?” Ellie’s eyebrows bend in.

  “Yes, he’s playing again. He’s doing well. I’ll tell him you said hi.”