Page 20 of One Last Shot

“I don’t think it’s so top secret anymore,” I say cautiously. Is there any reason to hide this from her? “How well do you know hockey?”

“Oh my God, please tell me it’s Alex Ivanov. Please!”

Her request catches me so off guard I can’t be responsible for what my face does in response. “Why?”

“Because he’s unbelievably hot and entirely single. If you’re planning a party for him, I want to be on that guest list.” Her brown eyes darken with longing, her lips part slightly as she sighs.

My mind is at war with itself, reviewing all the reasons I should tell her I’m married to him, and then countering with all the reasons that it’s better if no one knows. In the end, discretion wins out.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I say, sipping my sangria. I’m enjoying it more than I thought I would, not that I’d ever admit it.

“So itishim?” Her voice is a girlish squeal, something distinctly like what would come out of Stella’s mouth. “Petra, every woman in this city is after him, and he keeps himself hidden away. I don’t know why he’s so reclusive, but it only adds to his appeal.”

“He’s just a really private person,” I say, and by the way her eyes flare, I know I’ve said too much.

“You know him? Like you already knew him before he hired you to plan this event?”

“He’s a friend from childhood.”

Her eyebrows knit together, and I’m reminded how much Emily converses with her face. “How? Isn’t he from Russia?”

“No. His family is originally from Russia, but like mine, they lived in Austria. Growing up, my family lived on his family’s estate.” I don’t mention that since my dad didn’t speak German, he couldn’t find a job as an engineer, which is what he’d been back in Russia, and instead found work as the caretaker for Sasha’s family’s estate.

“If you’ve known him your whole life, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I didn’t know he was here, honestly. We had a falling out when we were teenagers and I haven’t spoken to him since. Last I knew, he was playing in the KHL, the Russian and European hockey league.”

“But you had to have heard his name,” she says. “How did you not put two and two together?”

“I haven’t followed hockey since I was a teenager.” Quite intentionally avoided it, is more like it. “And his name isn’t Alex. It’s Aleksandr, or Sasha. Ivanov is literally the most common Russian last name. Like a huge percentage of the population is named Ivanov, so if I ever heard the name ‘Alex Ivanov’ it didn’t register that he was the same Sasha Ivanov I grew up with.”

Emily spears a garlic-coated shrimp from one of the plates of tapas the waiter slides on the table between us, then eyes me skeptically. “You haven’t ever looked him up since you were kids?”

“Nope,” I say, taking a few different tapas and adding them to my plate.

“There’s obviously a story there, and you’re obviously not going to tell me.” She pauses, before adding, “That must have taken superhuman willpower.”

“Not really,” I say as I pick up a garlic-coated shrimp with my fork. “I like to leave the past in the past.”

“No doubt,” Emily says. “Kind of like how you left New York behind.”

Her honesty catches me off guard for the second time in the same conversation. Clearly I’m off my game.

“Em . . .I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You left and you haven’t been great about keeping in touch,” she tells me. “If it weren’t for my trip out to visit you a few years ago, I wouldn’t have seen you since you moved.”

“I’ll be better about keeping in touch,” I promise. “And I’ll be back out for this event in a few weeks, so we’ll make sure to see each other then.”

“When people find out Alex Ivanov is hosting this, they are going to be banging down your door for an invitation.”

“I’ll warn Morgan,” I say, making a mental note to do just that.

“Well, even if you’re clearly hiding things from me, I’m glad that you’re here and even happier that you’ll be back again soon.”

“I’m not hiding things from you, Em,” I tell her, but it’s a lie and we both know it. What I really mean is, I’m only hiding the things I hide from everyone—it’s not personal. “I’m just a private person. You know that about me.”

“And I love you anyway.”

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