Page 120 of One Last Shot

Sierra runs her hand up and down my leg like she’s soothing me. “Don’t worry,” I tell her. “I know that famous people problems are notrealproblems.”

“Petra, acknowledging that you wish you had more privacy in life doesn’t make you a bad person, or ungrateful,” Lauren says. “You didn’t agree to do the show because you were looking to become a household name.”

“Yeah, but what did she think would happen after everyone found out how fabulous she is?” Jackson teases as she swats my knee with the magazine.

Behind me, Sasha chuckles. “Right? That’s what I’ve been telling her all along.” He rests his hands on my shoulders and gives me a supportive squeeze.

I already know I’m awesome, but for those moments when the doubt or anxiety creep in, or on days like today where it starts to feel like maybe it’s too much—too invasive, too taxing, too overwhelming—it’s good to have a support group who believes in me as much as, or more than, I believe in myself.

“Oh, wow.” Jackson sighs as she holds the magazine back up. “They reference ‘The Kiss.’”

“Oh God,” I groan, rolling my eyes back as I tilt my head up to look at Sasha. It may have been one of the best moments of my life, but I’ve been forced to live it on repeat, nonstop for the last year. Everyone remembers it. Everyone brings it up. It’s the romantic grand gesture that will not die. “You made the whole freaking world fall in love with you that day, you know?”

He raises his eyebrows and gives me a small shrug.

“Let’s hear it,” Sierra says, leaning toward Jackson so she can see the print. “Ooh, they included a photo of it too.”

Lauren reaches across the space between our lounge chairs and takes my fingertips in hers as Jackson reads, “Maybe it’s true that there was a time that the two could walk down the street together incognito, but that all changed a year ago when New York clinched the Stanley Cup in game seven of the finals. The team celebrated on the ice as each player took his turn skating a lap around New York’s home rink with the Cup hoisted high above his head. Quietly and without ceremony, Alex Ivanov skated away from his teammates, over to the side of the rink. There, he kissed his hand and pressed it up against the glass in front of a beautiful woman wearing his jersey. On the other side, she kissed her fingers in return, and held them up against his. Fans near her caught the moment on video and everyone realized she was wearing a wedding ring.Hiswedding ring, as it turns out.

“Despite his long tenure on the team and his role as team captain, Ivanov mostly stayed out of the public eye, preferring to lead quietly by example. That all changed the night he skated over to his wife instead of basking in winning the Stanley Cup. But the two are secretive about their marriage. Ask them how long they’ve been married and they’ll tell you ‘a while’ ...” Jackson trails off and looks up at me. “Do they only care about your marriage? What about your career?”

“Calm your outrage,” Sierra says. “I’m sure it’s all in there. They’re just starting out with how everyone first learned who Petra was.”

“That’s bullshit,” Jackson says. “Her show had already aired and been picked up for a second season before that even happened.”

Sasha is running his thumb up and down my neck—our secret signal that one of us is ready to leave.

“It’s all in there. Aleksandr and I have both read it,” I say, nodding up at my husband, “so while this is all new and fun for you, I’m getting bored of hearing about myself. I think we’ll go get ready for dinner.”

“We don’t need to leave for”—Lauren looks at her phone—“almost two hours.”

“Yeah, but I’m hot and sweaty and you know how long it takes for me to wash this hair,” I point to the rat’s nest of curls currently pulled back into a ponytail as I stand.

“Uh huh,” Sierra nods, her lips between her teeth like she’s trying not to laugh. “You go have fun ‘getting ready.’”

We turn to walk back into the house at the same time they all burst out laughing.

“They definitely know we’re leaving to have sex,” he says as he clasps my hand in his, “and I couldn’t care less.”

* * *

“Finally alone,” Sasha breathes into my neck as he pulls me up against him. We’ve only made it three steps into our bedroom.

“If I’d known you were trying to get me alone, I’d have made an excuse to come inside much sooner.”Thank goodness for our sign, I think as I run my hand through his hair. I can’t believe how sexy I find him with this shoulder-length hair.

“I’malwaystrying to get you alone.” He nips at my neck, grazing his teeth along the length of my skin until his lips are at my earlobe.

“Does that mean you don’t like hanging out with my friends?” I ask. This isn’t the first time we’ve all hung out together, and every time I’m thankful for how at ease he seems with my friends’ husbands. But this is the first time we’ve gone away on vacation together.

“You know I like your friends,” he says, then trails his tongue across my earlobe. “But this is the first time we’ve been away without Stella, and I want as much time with you as possible before we go back to being parents.”

“You have no idea how much things are about to change,” I tell him, but I can’t keep the affection out of my voice. “When we get back, shit’s about to get real.”

He steps back and drops his hands to the concave curve of my belly. “Shit’s already real. But I can’t wait for it to get even real-er.” He drops to his knees and unties the long white kimono where the belt is strategically tied around my waist, hiding the still-small bump that we’re told is a girl. “You really don’t want to tell your friends yet?”

“This is Jackson and Sierra’s joint babymoon. It’s lovely that they wanted to include us, but we don’t need to steal their thunder. We can tell them once we’re back.”

“Earlier you didn’t want to tell them because you wanted them to enjoy being pregnant at the same time, and didn’t want to pull the attention away from that and onto you. Don’t you think they’ll be thrilled that we’re having a baby too?”

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