Page 46 of Beauty
It’s blank.
The familiar sight leaves my throat tight. Of course it’s blank. With every day that passes, the chances that I’ll find it seem to dwindle.
While Millie continues perusing, I pick up another of the author’s titles and read the blurb. I set it back on the shelf and go for another, then another. Eventually, I collect a few that sound good, including that first book, and head to the counter.
A few feet away, the sight of a familiar face stops me in my tracks. What ishedoing here?
Garreth Hanson, one of Beckett’s best friends, catches sight of me too and breaks into a smile. He’s classically handsome, his dirty blond hair just beginning to gray at the temples. His short beard is neatly trimmed and his blue eyes are as hard as they’ve always been, even when he’s smiling. Immediately, I compare him to Noah. Lighter hair and a smaller frame. And though his irises are a similar color, Noah’s were soft, inviting, comforting.
It’s unfair, really, to compare the two men. It’s just that I compare every man to the one I left in the Bahamas.
While Noah is sweet, Garreth is grumpy. An asshole, even. Today, he’s wearing a custom navy suit that screamsbillionaireand is leaning casually against the counter, one hand in his pocket.
And he’s still smiling at me.
Whyis he smiling at me?
“Sienna, this is a surprise.”
Frowning, I look over one shoulder, then the other, searching for a hidden camera. The man is never friendly. What is happening?
“Is it?” I set my stack of books on the counter and greet him the way my family would expect me to, with a kiss on each cheek.
As I step back, his blue eyes are intent on me. “Okay, maybe for you, but not for me.”
“I’m confused,” I admit.
He slips his hands into his pockets, the picture of confidence, and proceeds to shock the shit out of me. “I saw you walk in here,” he says. “So I followed you. I was hoping I could take you to dinner.”
FOURTEEN
NOAH
2 YEARS LATER
“I can’t believeyou’re really here.”
I grin at War as I slide onto a barstool at Ground Zero. The bar is a bit of a secret, I guess. It’s open to players and staff of the Boston Bolts and the Boston Revs, as well as their guests. Hannah talks about hanging out here from time to time, but this is the first time I’ve had the pleasure.
I can’t believe I’m here either. Here, as in Boston, not Ground Zero. Here, as in playing for the Boston Bolts. Here, as inhome.
Ted was transferred to Boston, to Jen’s delight. For four years, the three of us have raised Oliver in Minnesota, though Jen’s dream of moving here never faded.
I could have fought them when they wanted to take my son out of state, but that’s not how Jen and I co-parent.
Instead I did everything in my power to secure a trade. For a while there, I was certain it wouldn’t happen. Because I was still under the contract I signed not long before Oliver was born, the Bolts were held to its terms, meaning they’d have to pay me a lot. And to be honest, they don’t really even need me.
They’ve got enough great wingers to fill the first and second lines already, so while I may be one of the best—according tothe pundits—investing in me wasn’t necessary to secure their success.
Yet here I am. If I believed in fate, I’d say there was a bigger force at work when the trade went through.
Though I suppose maybe I do.
Because when I order a drink and the bartender gives me my change, I check every single dollar. I never use credit cards. I carry large bills and request as many ones as an establishment will allow when receiving my change. Do they sometimes get annoyed? Yup. Do I give a fuck? I guess not, since I carry more ones than a stripper.
I flip over each bill, then stack them and stuff them into my wallet. “I can’t believe you’re married with three kids,” I say as I pick up my beer.
“And one on the way.” He breaks into the biggest grin I’ve ever seen from the guy.
