Page 112 of Play Dirty

His mouth falls open.

“Seriously?” He looks dumbfounded.

“Yup.”

“Please tell me you told her to go fuck herself?”

I chuckle. “Yeah. Just without using those words because Emma and Bradley were in the room.”

“Good.” He shakes his head. “She’s something, eh?”

“Something evil,” I grumble.

“Trouble with her and Phil?”

“Probably. She seemed resigned when I laughed in her face.”

“This might be the time to hit her up with an offer.”

“She wasn’t amenable to it before.”

“She hadn’t won custody before and presumably pissed off Phil.”

“I guess.”

Madeline and I talked about this ad nauseum but her concern in coming right out and offering her money in exchange for the kids was that Brenna would tell the judge—and that wouldn’t look good for me. In retrospect, nothing I did or didn’t do mattered.

“Mr. Nadeau?” One of the assistants from the marketing department comes over to me. “Uh, your family is here.”

“My family?” I blink in confusion.

“Uh, your wife and kids.” He looks confused too.

Unless there’s a special event or some kind of emergency, our families don’t just show up at the arena a couple of hours before a game.

“My…” I look at Ivan and he arches his brows. “I guess I better see what’s going on. Come with me?” I ask Ivan, who nods.

I follow the marketing guy to the family lounge, and I can already hear Martin’s laughter and Bradley’s nonsensical chatter.

What the hell is Brenna thinking?

“Brenna.” I give her a look of annoyance. “What’s going on?”

“Like you don’t know.” She rolls her eyes. “I guess you’re getting your way.”

“My way?” I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“You don’t have to be a jerk, okay? I signed the papers. So here they are. You wanted custody so badly—now you have it.”

I glance at Ivan, who looks as confused as I feel.

“Brenna, quit screwing around. You know I have a game in a couple of hours.”

She shrugs. “That’s not my problem anymore. You now have sole physical custody. And I’ve got a plane to catch.”

“Dammit, Brenna, what are you talking about?” I demand in irritation.

She pauses. “I left all their things on the back porch of the house. Bradley’s diaper bag is in the stroller, and I fed them a late lunch. I don’t know what you’re going to do during the game, but they should be good until they get hungry. I’d like to see them at Christmas, if that’s okay? You’ll be traveling anyway, so I thought maybe my mother could come pick them up. Would that be all right?”

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