Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
I hesitated, my smile falling away. Sharing personal information is something I’m careful to avoid doing all day long. But Irina was a friend, not a patient. She and I had sat next to each other for the last four hockey seasons. Her husband was Ivan Lenkov, one of Connor’s teammates and closest friends, and Irina and Ivan had recently moved into an apartment in our building. Our lives were busy, hers with a growing family and mine with my practice, but we tried to make time for dinner at least once a month and watched all of the away games we weren’t able to go to together.
“I actually went off the pill last month.” I bit down on my bottom lip. “I’m excited. But nervous, too.”
“Oh wow. Well, if Connor’s sperm are as athletic as the rest of him, you’re probably already pregnant with triplets.”
I chuckled. “Don’t even joke. Juggling one with our schedules seems challenging enough.”
The roar of the crowd dragged our attention back to the ice. Connor was skating shoulder to shoulder with a defensive player, the puck under his stick’s control with one hand while the other fended off the opponent. It always amazed me how many things these guys could do at once, all while balancing on a three-millimeter-thick blade. Connor sailed down the ice as if it were as easy as walking. I supposed to him, it was.
Seconds later, the buzzer sounded for intermission. Connor skated off the ice, following his teammates, but glanced back my way. I couldn’t see his face, but I was certain he winked. Warmth spread through me, and I waved.
“You two…” Irina rolled her eyes. I hadn’t realized she was watching me. “Still making googly eyes at each other.”
I kept it to myself that my husband, the man I’d been with for almost a decade now, had also sent me flowers for no reason today. Deep purple and cream hydrangeas. My favorite.
I stood. “You want to go up to the Suite for the break?” The Suite was short for the Wives’ Room, a place where only the wives of players or serious girlfriends invited in by a wife were allowed. It wasn’t really my thing. But Irina liked it. Lately, more for the free food than the company. And there was wine in it for me.
Irina hooked her arm with mine. “Lead the way to the pigs in blankets, girl.”
Eighteen minutes later, we were back in our spots. The opposing team had taken the lead, and we gripped the edges of our seats, necks craning, hoping the Steel would score again.
We didn’t have to wait long. The other team got hit for a penalty, and Connor’s team retook control of the game. With the score suddenly tied and their team up a man, the quieted crowd roared back to life. Irina and I jumped up. My heart was in my throat as Connor got the puck. He skated down the center, sharp edges of his blades spraying ice with every leg change. When he reached the net, he swung his stick back.
A defenseman came out of nowhere, slamming Connor from the left, hard enough to rocket him into the air.
“Connor!” His name tore itself from my throat.
The world went into slow motion.
Connor flew into the air.
Another defenseman came in from the right.
Connor flailed, trying to brace himself for the fall.
But gravity waited for no one.
He hit the ice. Hard.
One leg stretched forward and the other splayed back, bending in a way no leg was meant to bend.
My husband screamed, his wail reverberating through the arena.
The crowd went silent.
For a second, I couldn’t breathe. Then I bolted down to the ice.
I might’ve been a psychiatrist, a far cry from an emergency room doctor. But I had gone to medical school. And I knew enough to realize we were headed straight for the hospital.
CHAPTER 5 Now
After a week, I know his schedule. I rise early and start walking the streets of Manhattan as they wake up around me. But I don’t rush. I meander. I know I have time before Gabriel leaves his building.
Coffee at the stand on the corner. Perusing the news as I wait for a bagel. Watching the ever-changing leaves turn from yellow to orange to red, a little each day. I chew a thick pumpernickel bagel smeared with cream cheese and lox and think of Dr. Alexander, his advice to stop stalking Gabriel. I don’t see it as stalking. Not really. I have no ill intentions. I just need to know…
I swallow what’s in my mouth and pause, envisioning it: Gabriel’s face, lit up with happiness.
I need to know it’s real.
I fold the rest of the bagel into its paper and toss it in the nearest trash can. The rest of my coffee goes with it, making a satisfying clunk as they hit the bottom. A bookstore is two doors down, and with a quick glance at my watch—Gabriel won’t be by for another twenty minutes—I duck inside. The store has just opened, and two employees murmur behind the counter as they sort books. I brush by them to the self-help section.