Page 7 of Heart on Ice

“You won,” she answers, looking up at me, all wide-eyed.

“Yes, but it would have been nice to have you in the box cheering with all the other wives and partners.”

Kitty stands and places her hands on my chest. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll never miss another game. I didn’t realize how much my being there meant to you.”

“You didn’t realize how much I would want my fiancée there?” I question her.

She shrugs. “Yeah.”

“You’re my fiancée!”

“Pierre …”

I push her away and start to pace again. “You’re my fiancée, Kitty. We are about to pledge our love for each other, through sickness and health, through good times and bad. I don’t know if you’re willing to do that for me.”

“You’re getting upset because I missed one game because I had to work,” she yells at me.

“You were in Vegas!”

She waves her hand at me. “That was after.”

“If you had time to go to Vegas with your friend, you should have had time to come to New York and be by my side during a really difficult time.”

Kitty scrunches up her face. “I told you I don’t do funerals. All that sadness is upsetting.”

“I needed you.”

“Babe, you had your family. I would have been in the way,” she says, shrugging off my feelings. I stare at her, and she’s serious.

“Do you still want to marry me?”

Kitty stills. “Excuse me?” she asks slowly.

“It’s a simple question, Kitty,” I say.

She tries to frown but her forehead is baby smooth. “What a stupid question to ask me.”

“If it’s so stupid, why are you not answering it?” I push her.

“Because you’re trying to hurt me, and I don’t appreciate it.” She huffs.

“I’m trying to hurt you?”

“Yes,” she says, folding her arms in front of her. How the hell is this now my fault?

“All because I want to know if the woman I love wants to marry me?” I question her.

“I know what this is.” She giggles. “You’re getting cold feet. My mom told me this would happen, every groom goes through it, it’s natural.”

“You think I’ve got cold feet?”

“Yes, baby,” she coos.

My shoulders drop, and exhaustion hits me like a freight train. Maybe now isn’t the right time to be having this conversation when she is clearly intoxicated. “I’m tired, baby. I’m going to head to bed. Are you coming?”

“Oh, um, I’m still amped up from traveling. I was going to get changed and head to the clubs with my girls.”

Of course she is. “Have fun,” I tell her as I turn and walk away from where she is standing in the living room. Frankston stretches, jumps off the sofa, and follows me, at least he’s got my back.

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