Page 75 of Pucking Fate

“I wish I had known you were coming, that we were going on our first date in almost six years, so I could’ve actually planned for perfect.”

“No, this is great. I like seeing you just…wing it.”

“So, we’re winging it, huh?”

“Yes. No expectations, no commitment.”

“Well, I want commitment, and you exceed all of my expectations.”

“Oh please,” I laugh with a roll of my eyes.

The hotel Christian picked is on the edge of town, away from the busy streets and noise of the city. It’s quiet and intimate—exactly the kind of place where we can escape for a few hours and just be us. Or at least that’s what I hope.

But the moment we step inside and wait at the hostess stand, I see the familiar looks. A few tables of guests are already watching us, whispers spreading through the room as people recognize him. Christian’s fame comes with a price, and even on what’s supposed to be our first date, we’re not really alone.

It doesn’t take long before a group of three women approaches. Hockey fans, obviously—one of them is even wearing a Bobcats tee.

“Christian Riley!” one of them squeals, her eyes wide with excitement. “Oh my God, I can’t believe it’s really you!”

He gives the women a polite smile, clearly not wanting to cause a scene. “Hi, yeah. Just here for a quiet dinner date with my girl, but it’s nice to meet you.”

I’m relieved he was so quick to publicly claim me ashisgirl.

The women, though, ignore the hint that we want to be left alone. “Can we take a picture with you?” another one asks, stepping closer, her gaze a little too sultry for my liking. “Pretty please?”

I take a step back, standing off to the side, and trying not to let the attention bother me, but it’s hard. This is supposed to be our night, our first date in nearly six years. One Christian worked an entire summer to convince me to give him, and they’re already intruding on it.

Christian glances at me, his expression apologetic. “Just one group photo,” he says softly, stepping away for a moment.

I watch as they swarm around him, laughing and giggling like teenagers. One of them even puts her arm around his waist, and a spark of jealousy flares inside me. I’m still working on trusting him, and these women—they’re practically throwing themselves at him. And superstar Christian Riley is too polite to push them away.

When the picture is finally done, Christian gently but firmly reminds them that he’s here with me. “I’m on a date, so if you’ll excuse us, I want to get back to it,” he says, his voice kind but firm.

The disappointment on their faces is obvious, but they eventually back off, leaving us alone once again.

Christian walks back to me, a sheepish grin on his face, and takes my hand in his. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” I say, though I know he can tell I’m more than a little annoyed. “It comes with the territory.”

“Ignore them,” he says, his tone softening as he reaches for my hand. “You and me are all that matter tonight.”

We finally get seated at a table. The soft glow of candlelight casts a warm glow over the menus as we quietly look over them. I can feel Christian’s occasional gaze on me.

Finally, I take a deep breath, breaking the silence. “Christian, I need to ask you something.”

He looks at me, his expression suddenly serious. “Anything.”

I hesitate, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of my napkin. “Why…why did you sleep with so many women?”

He looks away before answering. “Because…after things ended with us, I missed you and wanted to try to get over you. Which didn’t work. I realized right away that no one could make me feel what I do with you. It all felt so…empty. I think mostly, I did it because I could, but also I was hoping to find that feeling again. I was lonely, bored, and stressed out. It was a decent distraction from all those things, from being a rookie, needing tomake a name for myself in the pros, to prove to my father I had what it takes. All stupid reasons, really.”

When he’s finished speaking, and I don’t say a word, Christian leans across the table, his lips brushing softly against mine in a kiss so tender, so careful, it feels like a promise to stop my worry. I don’t pull away. Instead, I lean into it, letting the warmth of his touch wash over me, melting some of the tension that’s been coiled tightly in my chest. It’s not like before when everything between us was rushed and filled with the heat of new passion. This is slower and more deliberate. It feels like he’s trying to tell me something, something deeper than words. The night he left, he almost said he loved me. Granted, my mouth was on him at the time, but I think he meant it.

When he pulls back, his hand is still wrapped around mine, his thumb gently stroking my skin. “Maya,” he whispers, his forehead pressed against mine, “Thank you for tonight, for coming this weekend.”

I nod slowly, my breath catching in my throat. “Sure.”

“I know you’ll probably never look at me the same way you did before, before I screwed up,” Christian says after a moment, his voice soft but sure. “But I hope you do someday.”

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