She rolls her eyes. “Your husband.”
“Er—yes. “
“I’m not a baby,” she huffs, then marches into the townhouse.
After a brief hesitation, Finn and I enter, slip off our shoes, and follow her.
Every inch of the townhouse seems to have been thought about. Silver sconces gleam against dark wallpaper, and we pad over oriental carpets.
Evan appears in the hallway. “Vinnie is occupied with cooking. The man loves to cook.”
“He does?”
I feel strange being in the home of these two impressive men, welcomed to a place where few of our other teammates visit.
Finn squeezes my hand.
“You know,” Evan begins, “I made Vinnie apologize to you, but I should have apologized to you too. I was right there in the locker room. It never occurred to me that you could have been gay, and I’m sorry.”
“I’m bisexual,” Finn says, his skin pinkening. “And you’d seen me with plenty of women,so I, um, don’t blame you for making assumptions.”
I haven’t heard Finn refer to himself that way, even in our interviews.
“What are you?” Evan asks me.
“Gay.”
Finn inhales sharply.
My organs slither together. I’ve said my secret musings. I’ve revealed way too much. And Finn is staring at me wide-eyed and wide-mouthed.
“I mean, I think,” I stammer. “I had a girlfriend before. Multiple. I—I just...” My voice trails off. There’s nothing I can say to rectify this.
Oh, God.
I’ve said too much. Now Finn will know that this isn’t all pretend for me. Will he think I made this happen somehow? That I went from superfan to seducer in some terrible calculated manner?
My heart patters desperately, and Finn studies the floorboards, even though they’re the least interesting part of this immaculately designed home. But then, he doesn’t want to land his gaze on me.
My chest tightens, my legs wobble, and when Evan suggests we sit down, I practically leap into my seat.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Finn
Noah didn’t mean to say that, I’m sure. He didn’t mean to tell Evan that he was gay. Because, if he is gay, he definitely likes men.
My mind whirls, and Vinnie thrusts a platter of lamb ribs in my hand, and it takes me a moment to remember I should compliment the ribs and not simply gaze at them in a shocked manner.
“They look good.” Evan shoots me a strange look. “Good job, honey.”
I’m a hockey player. A good one. Slow reflexes aren’t normally my thing.
But now my mind is racing, and it’s forgotten my body.
All I can think about is Noah.
Noah who might be gay.
