Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
“How did you meet?”
Will’s eyebrows lifted and lowered, like he was laughing to himself at the memory. “At some sorority party in college. You would have hated it,” he added with a glance from beneath his brows. “Sweaty, drunk people everywhere.”
I smiled.
“I went with some of my teammates, and as soon as we walked in, she hooked me by the arm and dragged me to do shots.”
That surprised me, since he didn’t drink now. At least, I hadn’t seen him drink, and I learned that first evening at dinner that he didn’t have wine in the house.
I guessed he’d been different back then.
“Love at first sight?” I guessed.
“Not at all, actually. We were just friends. Best friends,” he clarified. “We hooked up a time or two in college, but nothing serious. We’d always laugh it off the next day. When I left college to start my NHL career with the Tampa organization, we didn’t think we’d see each other again. But about a year later, she got a job offer in St. Pete. She moved here, we started hanging out, one thing led to another, and we found ourselves in bed together… and then she got pregnant.”
My eyes shot wide.
I did not expect that.
“I couldn’t believe it when she told me, but strangely, neither of us was upset. We were just kind of like… okay, I guess we’re doing this. We got married a couple weeks later, just a small ceremony on the beach.”
He cleared his throat, standing up straighter and looking at the now-empty glass in his hands.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”
“Because I asked.”
He lifted his brows, but then fell quiet for a long time. I realized what he meant by that statement was that he wasn’t used to talking so much. Maybe not at all.
It made me giddier than it should have to know he felt like talking to me.
But the longer silence fell between us, the more I wondered if the conversation was over. I was just about to drink the last of my milk when he started talking again.
“We loved each other, but not in the traditional way. We had fun together. We had respect for one another. And we knew we’d make good parents.” He shrugged. “I was too busy with hockey to care about trying to find a partner, and she seemed content with me — at least for the moment. It didn’t make sense to anyone else but us,” he admitted. “But that was all that mattered.”
“What happened to her?”
Again, the words shot out of me, and I curled in on myself when Will’s gaze hardened and landed on me.
“She got on birth control about a month after having Ava. The doctor said she was fine.” He swallowed. “But she wasn’t. She experienced a blood clot, but the symptoms were so mild… we didn’t really know anything was going on. Not until she got really dizzy one day, and felt like she couldn’t breathe.”
I covered my lips with my trembling hand, eyes watering, heart racing.
He was saying it so matter-of-factly, but I felt the weight in every word. I felt the pain he was barely holding at bay.
“It happened so fast,” he croaked. “One moment, she was lying down because she didn’t feel well. The next… she had a pulmonary embolism.” Will swallowed. “I called 9-1-1, but it was too late.”
I closed my eyes at his words, holding back tears I felt like I didn’t have a right to shed.
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” I finally whispered, forcing my eyes open to look at him. “You didn’t have to, but I… I really appreciate that you did.”
He swallowed, nodding. “I don’t talk about it much to anyone. But… I guess you’re a good listener.” He paused. “Or I’m just exhausted enough to not fight against telling you the truth.”
My heart felt like it was being squeezed in an iron fist.
Two months.
She’d lived for less than two months with her daughter.
It was so impossible to imagine.
“What did you do?” I asked, locking my gaze on his. “After…”
Will cleared his throat and took his glass to the sink, rinsing it and tucking it in the dishwasher. “I think I’ve talked enough tonight.”
I jumped off my barstool. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.”
“Sorry.”
He pointed a glare at me, cocking a brow, though the corner of his lips tilted just a quarter inch.
I shrugged.
It was habit.
“You’re welcome to sleep in one of the guest beds, if you can’t fall asleep out there,” he said, nodding toward the pool house. But I was already stifling a yawn, and I mirrored him, taking my glass to the sink.
“I’ll be fine. See you in the morning?”
We were standing so close now, less than a foot between us, and I found my feet rooted in place as I stared up at him.