Page 18 of Pucking Fate

Christian glances at me, his expression softening. “I’ll make time, Maya. I promise now that I know…I mean, now that we’refriends, I’ll always make time for you two.”

I nod, trying to take his words at face value, but my doubts linger. I think Christian means well. But I’ve seen this all play out before — the amazing, sweet Christian who makes mefeel like the center of his world, who then ups and disappears without a word, without any explanation.

Yes, I ended things years ago, but he didn’t even take five minutes to say goodbye or ask me what I had decided to do about the pregnancy. He sent a few apologetic texts and voicemails right after I told him I was pregnant, then he disappeared.

And the reason I called it quits with Christian certainly wasn’t because I didn’t care about him. It was because of how quickly he disappeared after we finally slept together, leaving me hurt and confused.

At first, I thought that he left me in that fancy hotel room because he had finally got what he wanted all along and had no further use for me.

But over time, the more I’ve thought about it, the less that explanation makes sense.

Why go to all the trouble of booking the expensive suite, having a romantic dinner, only to bail ten minutes later, after we got into bed together?

Instead of staying and talking to me, explaining what he was thinking or how he felt, he just took off and left me to go to some party with his and Preston’s hockey teammates.

I broke up with him the next day because I was angry that he abandoned me when I needed him most. Regardless of the reason, he left me there alone in a hotel room, naked, vulnerable, and with no ride home after the most intimate experience of my entire life. I had to call Preston to come get me, and he was not happy. That’s when he kicked Christian out of his apartment, before I even found out I was pregnant.

The whole thing was such a humiliating experience that I told Christian that we were over. I felt so embarrassed that night that I haven’t had the nerve to try having sex again with any man.

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Christian asks.

I look up from my plate of untouched pasta I hadn’t realized I had been staring at and find Finley has already disappeared from the table.

“I’m just tired,” I lie.

Sighing, Christian pushes back his chair from the table, as if frustrated I won’t tell him the truth.

While I sit there lost in old memories, he grabs Finley’s plate with his own, then goes over and starts running the water in the sink, adding soap suds. A moment later, he’s scrubbing a plate with the sponge.

“You don’t have to do those by hand. I have a dishwasher,” I tell him as I snap myself out of my wretched thoughts and get to my feet.

“No, I’ve got it. You should finish eating. You’ve barely touched your plate.”

When I just stand there next to the sink and stare at him, watching the veins in his muscular biceps and forearms flexing as he works, he says, “Go eat, woman, since you refuse to tell me what’s eating you. Besides, washing dishes is the least I can do to try to make up for a mistake I made nearly six years ago.”

“Wh-how did you know that’s what I was thinking about?” I ask as I hurry to retake my seat and pick up my fork, determined to put distance between us. I even shovel in a few bites of pasta so my stomach won’t growl when I’m trying to sleep.

“I knew because you had the same sad look on your face as you did that night when I got dressed and walked out on you.”

“Oh.”

“Just so you know, that look has haunted me all these years,” Christian says while focusing on the dishes. “I’ve always regretted my decision to leave you in that hotel room.”

“Because Preston made you move out?”

“No. Of course, that sucked, but I didn’t blame him. I hate that I hurt you.”

“So? Why did you leave, Christian?” I ask him the question I’ve wondered for over five years.

“Uh, well, because my fragile male pride took a hit, and I think I just…panicked.”

What the hell is he talking about?

“You definitely left in a rush, but I don’t think I understand the ‘fragile male pride’ part.”

“I was, Iamvery good at…thatusually. The night with you was a total fluke.”

“If you say so,” I reply while he scrubs another plate even harder, as if taking out his frustration on it.

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