Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
21
UNTYING THE KNOT
Hayes
I run a towel over my hair one more time, Outrageous Record blasting in my earbuds. Top volume drowns out the racing thoughts of what I have to do this morning, and now these text messages from my father.
Dad: Great goal last night! Cora said she was thrilled for you too. You’re on your game with the Avengers.
I’m in a terse kind of mood so I reply with a quick thanks. Don’t want to jinx myself by saying how much I like playing on this team. But I don’t have to since he moves on right away with another message.
Dad: P.S. I’m considering asking her to marry me! What do you think?
My jaw tightens as I set down the phone, unsure what to say other than dude, she’s thirty. Not like I’m going to say Hey, I got hitched too. Isn’t that cool?
As I grab the toothbrush, I try to come up with a reply that’s somewhat genuine when a new text pops up. It’s from Dev and it’s short. Here you go. Keep it safe.
It’s the pic of Ivy and me getting hitched, and something in my chest stirs as I stare at it. She looks…happy.
So do I.
I stare down at my ring, a heaviness taking over in my chest—a heaviness that doesn’t belong. Saying I don’t shouldn’t have me so twisted up. Especially considering what the three of us did after my dare of an I do.
Good sex never fills me with so much angst the next morning. Hell, Stefan was right when he said sex makes me happy. Sex makes me play better. Why do I feel so down then?
My mind flashes to that moment at The Winning Hand, when it was just Ivy and me at the table, when she could tell it made me happy to be called by my name. Then back to the texts she sent after my first game with the team. My heart feels a little tender.
Grabbing my travel kit, I yank up the zipper and breathe out hard, trying to focus on the day ahead. Like I’m getting psyched up for a game, I blot out distractions. Like feelings, like frustrations, like the voice in my head of my ex saying I’m a jerk.
But there are other voices echoing too. Voices from long ago. From my mom leaving, saying breezily, I’ll be back next summer. That was true enough, but it hardly mattered—her once-a-year reappearance in my life was like a comet that was gone before it even arrived. I can never find comets in my telescope anyway.
All these thoughts bombard my brain annoyingly as I get dressed for the charity breakfast. When I’m at the door, I check the confirmation I got a few minutes ago from the annulment place Dev hooked me up with. They’re expecting us. With dread in my gut, I text Ivy.
Hayes: I’ll call a Lyft now, K?
Her response is swift.
Ivy: Great!
It’s the exclamation point that kills me. The excitement over the end. As I walk down the hall, I can’t stop staring at the ring on my finger. The gold band is so basic. Just a simple ordinary band. I shouldn’t care about it so much.
I head down a flight of stairs to Ivy’s room a floor below me, but she’s already left, and she’s marching toward me at the elevator banks. She looks focused and ready.
“The Lyft should be here soon,” I say, taking a businesslike approach to this uncoupling too. “It shouldn’t take too long once we’re there.”
“Then you can get to your breakfast with the team.”
“And then we’ll just have that photo as a memory,” I say dryly, trying to make light of this whole uncomfortable morning as the elevator arrives.
When we step inside, she turns to me, lifting a brow in a question. “What photo?”
“It’s one Kana took last night.”
“I want to see it,” she says in a determined tone.
I click over to it, showing her the shot. It’s not the almost shot. It’s us saying I do. I want to look at it one more time too.
She bends closer, and I catch a hint of her scent. It wafts past me, blackberries and something sweet that makes me crave another night with her. One time did nothing to quench my desire, and I barely notice when the elevator slows at a floor. I’m inches away from Ivy, her long, dark hair falling in a soft sheet near her face, her scent intoxicating me, her gaze locked on the picture of us on the screen. I steal a glance at her face. Her smile seems to take her hostage. “That was fun, Hayes,” she says, vulnerable and warm.
The dreamy sound hooks into my heart.
“Yeah, I liked marrying you last night,” I say, right as the doors open and I look up.