Page 16 of One Last Shot

“How in the world would we prove that? I haven’t been back to New York since I moved to Park Citymorethan three years ago. You haven’t been to Park City, that I know of. How would we possibly make it look like we lived together during that time?”

“I think there are ways—”

“Yeah,” she interrupts. “That involve lying to the federal government. No thanks.”

“Petra, we’d only move forward if we were sure we had a convincing story. But you are my last hope. I can’t let any more time go by without being able to adopt Stella.”

“I don’t even know what would happen if we were caught lying to the government about this, Sasha. Federal prison? For sure, you’d lose guardianship and be sent back to Austria, at the minimum. I’m not sure it’s worth that risk.” She leans forward and sets her drink on the table. “This is a lot to think about. I should head back to the hotel.”

“Wait.” The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it, and she looks at me with a small degree of surprise. “I never got the chance to talk to you about the event I’m hoping you can plan.”

“There’s actually an event? That wasn’t just a ploy to get me here and spring a fake marriage on me?”

I may have created an event just so this whole interaction, this transaction, isn’t so one-sided. But now that she’s here, I find I want to keep her near me as long as possible. Some things haven’t changed—will probably never change.

“I’m hoping you can plan an end of season event for my team in a month. Whether we win or lose in the playoffs, I’d like to have one last get together with them.”

“Wait, so you reallyareplanning to retire?”

“Not exactly. My contract is up, and I’m not sure if I’ll stay in New York or end up somewhere else. My agent is still working on that.” In fact, James is getting offers left and right. But New York is refusing to negotiate until after the playoffs are over, undoubtedly to see if I can lead the team to another Stanley Cup. If I can, the offer will be more competitive.

“Okay. Why don’t you send me an email with all the details and I’ll start looking into it. But be forewarned, the options for what I can pull together in that time frame are going to beverylimited.” She slides her jacket on and stands.

There’s nothing else I can say to keep her here without sounding desperate. So as much as I want her to stay, I have to let her go—for now.

* * *

“But you said I could bring a friend,” Stella says as she pushes her lunch plate away from her. She has a distinctly pissed-off look that I didn’t know someone her age could have already mastered.

“I meant Harper, or another friend from school.”

“But I want to bring Petra.” Stella’s lower lip trembles and I know she’s about to lose it.

“Sweetie, Petra isn’t your friend,” I say the words kindly to soften the blow. “She’s someone I was friends with back when I was a kid.”

“She’s my friend now. She tucked me into bed last night. You wouldn’t let someone tuck me into bed if they weren’t a friend, would you?”

It’s hard to argue with her logic, and yet Petra isnother friend. “I’m not calling Petra and inviting her to go to the Orchid Show with no notice, in the middle of the day when she’s probably working.”

“We won’t know if she’s working unless we call and ask,” Stella says.

I put both my hands on the small table and level my glare at her. “I’m not calling her.”

“I’ll call her,” Stella says and holds out her hand for my phone.

“I don’t think we should interrupt her while she’s working.”

Stella’s arm is still extended, waiting for me to place my phone in her hand. “If she can’t go, she’ll tell us.”

“There is nous.If you’re going to ask her, you tell heryouwanted her to come. Don’t say anything about me.”

“Okay,” she says, calling my bluff. The girl has the confidence of a twenty-six-year-old who knows exactly who she is and how to get what she wants. It makes parenting her extremely difficult at times, but I never want her to lose that spark.

I pull up Petra’s contact on my phone and hand it to Stella. She doesn’t even hesitate for a second before she hits the icon to place the call. I watch her expressive face, noting the way she raises her eyebrows every time the phone rings, like she just knows this is the ring where Petra will answer. Finally, on the fourth ring, her patience is rewarded.

“Hello?” Petra’s low, throaty voice carries across the table to me, even though Stella’s holding the phone up to her ear.

“Hi, Petra, it’s Stella. Stella Ivanova,” she adds, in case Petra couldn’t figure out which Stella might be calling her from my number.

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