Page 29 of Dice & Dekes

“The wife experience, huh? I’m familiar with the girlfriend experience. I’m guessing it’s like that, minus the sex, right?”

“Sort of.” Thank God she gave me an out, though I’m surprised she didn’t shoot down the idea altogether. “I meant things like having dinner together, and support at the games. Wearing my jersey. Doing stuff together. Normal things. Kind of like a test run. But only while you’re here.”

Knova rolls her eyes. “If the next words out of your mouth are ‘walking around holding hands,’ I will throw up right here.”

“We could skip all that if you’d rather call me Daddy,” I suggest.

Knova drops the other half of her garlic knot back into the box. “I’m done. I quit. I’m going to bed.”

“Ah, yeah, about that. I forgot to mention… I only have one bed.” I know I’m pushing my luck, but as usual, my dumb mouth doesn’t know when to quit.

“Then I hope you like the couch,” Knova says. She grabs the paper towels, both boxes, and her duffle. “You should get used to sleeping on the sofa, anyway. It’s all part of the husband experience. And whoever ends up married to you is going to see a lot of fucking up.”

“You’re not going to eat that in my bed, are you?” I am genuinely aghast. “You know I just got new sheets.”

“I’m going to eat it onmybed, darling.” Knova blows me a kiss.

“No prosciutto on the linens!”

“You know what they say: Happy wife, happy life. I’ll eat my meat wherever I please.” She saunters off toward the stairs, leaving me to figure out my sleeping arrangements.

She disappears around the corner, and I’m left staring at the space she occupied. I want to follow her. I want to ask her to stay on the couch with me. I want to tell her I remember every second of that night we never talk about. But I don’t move. Because I know she’d leave if I did.

I could probably talk her into switching, but if this is the only way I’m going to get Knova in my bed, so be it. If she ever finds out how much power she has over me, I’ll be in real trouble.

I’ll be hers. And she’ll never even know it.

Chapter Seven

Knova

I wake up sweating in a bed that isn’t mine. My heart is pounding so hard that I can barely breathe. Something happened. Something bad. We’re in danger.

Who’s in danger?My hand closes around the dog tags at my throat.

Ah. Right. The fire. The smoke. The scorched walls of everything I had left. And Viktor—steady, smirking Viktor—who didn’t hesitate to make space for me. I flop back against his pillows and drag in a breath that still tastes like ash. That’s right: I’m in Viktor’s bed. Nobody’s hurt. I’m okay.

In the quiet bedroom, I take stock of my circumstances. The sheets smell like detergent and Viktor. Like old aftershave and new memories. I don’t know what bothers me more—that I slept so well, or that I liked it.

His room hasn’t changed much from the guy I remember. Same messy drawer of wristbands. Same stack of ancient game cartridges on the shelf. One cracked photo frame of him and Knight from their draft year.

I used to think I knew this boy inside and out. Now I’m not so sure.

I’m not sure about anything.

I could grab my stuff, head back to Knight’s, and take the day to figure out what I’m doing next. Since I have a bit of leverage, I could con Dante into giving me a suite at the Mona Lisa. Given how jumpy I am, I should take the day off either way. I’d be a liability in the air.

Despite all that, I keep thinking about how Viktor behaved last night. He was civil. In fact, he wasgenerous.I expected him to fight harder for the right to sleep in his own bed, but he just let me go snuggle right into his soft mattress.

I’m forced to admit that he might have come to the rescue last night because he genuinely wanted to help me. And I no longer think he orchestrated the mix-up at the stadium. The more I poke and pry at my assumptions about Viktor, the more my anger unravels. What else have I gotten wrong?

He broke your heart,I remind myself. It’s an old refrain, one I replay every time I find myself catching feelings for him.

This time, there’s a new thought to match: he was akidthe last time we tried to make this work. A child. I don’t know what his life was like in the years we went our separate ways, but I’ve certainly changed. Is it fair to hold a childhood mistake against him?

Damn. Have I really spent the last decade and change holding a grudge against a kid who no longer exists? What the hell is wrong with me?

The weight of the dog tags against my chest reminds me that there’s an extensive list of things that are wrong with me, some of which have been diagnosed by professionals. I’ve never done well with the soft and squishy emotions, but after Mick, I’ve walled off that part of myself altogether.

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