Page 64 of Goalie and the Girl Next Door
He leads us to a quiet bench under a tree strung withgolden lights that pop on as the sun starts to go down. The music and laughter fade behind us.
“She’s the reason I played hockey,” he says as he sits beside me, unwrapping the cupcake. “My mom. She found this junior team on the edge of Paris. Told me I was too fast to be stuck inside all day. We didn’t have gear, didn’t even have a car. But she made it happen.”
“She sounds kind of amazing,” I say.
“She was tiny. Smaller than you, even,” he adds with a glance at me. “But loud. Loud in this way that echoed in your bones. She’d wave a ridiculous red embroidered handkerchief at my games, so I always knew where she was. Even when I played well enough for scouts to come, she never stopped waving that thing.”
There’s something about a man who loves his mother like that. Something grounding. Something good.
“She would’ve loved Maple Falls,” he adds with a small, crooked smile. “All this charm and pandemonium.”
“Sounds like the kind of woman who’d love Edgar as much as he loves you,” I murmur.
He laughs, and it’s so sincere that I feel it in my ribs.
Right there, sitting on a bench with icing on my fingers and seeing more of the real Clément, I forget why I ever thought he was trouble.
“Frenchie!”
I glance over. Clément stiffens beside me. The call breaks our quietude like a hockey puck through a window.
Jamie Hayes, the Ice Breakers’ captain, is striding toward us, jacket unbuttoned. He spots us, sitting way too close on this little wooden bench, frosting still on Clément’s thumb, and his eyebrows tick upward.
“Oh,” Jamie says, slowing as he registers our faces. “Sorry to interrupt. You two were having a moment?”
Werebeing the operative word.
“It’s okay.” Clément stands, brushing nonexistent crumbs from his pants. “Salut, Jamie.”
Jamie nods, then turns to me with a grin. “Hey, you’re Marcy, right? I hope we’ll see you bidding at the bachelor auction. This guy”—he claps Clément on the shoulder—“is one of the top picks. Accent alone’s gonna raise a fortune. I hope he’s told you to bring your credit card.”
The words hit me like a slap. Clément goes still as Jamie backs away with a wave.
No, he hadn’t told me. In fact, hespecificallysaid he wasn’t participating. How he said he wouldn’t be caught dead doing such a thing. Like itwasn’t happening. But now he’s standing there, not denying it.
I feel myself folding up inside.
Clément turns to me, voice low and desperate. “Marcy, I—” Then he lapses into French.
“It doesn’t matter.” I smile but it feels fake. I smooth my skirt even though I can’t feel my hands. “Don’t worry about it. You know you can do whatever you want.”
He blinks. “It’s not?—”
“You’re a grown man,” I continue, forcing a bright, brittle laugh. “You’re a hockey celebrity, right? Who was I to think you wouldn’t do such a thing, and for a great cause? We both know a ton of women would love to bid on you.”
His face crumples a little, and I hate how much I want to fix it. Because I won’t. I should’ve knownhe was that kind of guy. Should’ve remembered what kind of story this is. The woman falls for the golden boy and ends up flattened when the cameras come back on.
He opens his mouth, but I’m already stepping back. “Seriously, you’re going to have a blast. I have to get going, so why don’t you boys go have fun. I have about four hundredspreadsheets waiting for me, plus filings for Happy Horizons, and Neesha’s books are due next week…”
“Marcy, please—” Clément pleads.
I can’t.
Not if I want to hold it together.
I turn before he sees the tears gathering at the corners of my eyes.
CHAPTER 22
