“Come on then; let me see how fast you can go.”

“You want me to show off for you, Em?”

“I do.”

“Well then.” I pushed off and did just that.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Emma

The Raston fundraiser took place in Los Angeles, with a daytime skate and greet for the children and an evening dinner for all the donors. Lucian fell silent and tense on the drive down, but every so often, he’d reach out and rest his hand on my knee, as if to say he was still there with me.

I left him to his solitude, knowing that sometimes you had to work through some things yourself. If he needed me, I’d be here. By the time we arrived at the Staples Center, his leg bounced in an agitated rhythm as he scowled at the looming stadium.

“Hey,” I said before we pulled up to the valet service, which was parking cars for other players.

Wintergreen eyes shadowed under severe brows looked my way. I wondered if he truly saw me in his disquiet. In deference to his beloved sport’s rules, he wore a light-gray suit and ice-blue tie, which made him both devastatingly handsome and closed off.

“You got this.” I touched his bouncing knee. “They love you.”

Pale and pinched around the mouth, he stared at me, then blinked once. As if coming out of a trance, he took a long breath and gave me a tight smile. “I’m okay, Snoop.”

I didn’t think either of us was fooled, but he would be okay. I believed that much. I had to.

We went our separate ways once inside, Lucian instantly hailed and surrounded by his former teammates and fellow hockey players as I was ushered to a VIP section roped off for players’ guests.

“Who are you here for?” asked a woman around my age with gorgeous raven hair that fell in a glossy sheet down her slim back. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her.

“Lucian,” I said, and she frowned, clearly not recognizing his name. “Luc Osmond.”

Her expression cleared, and she smiled wide. “Oz is here? Really?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my God, I’m so happy to hear that. We’ve really missed him, you know?”

Pride surged through me, and I found myself smiling back. Beaming, really. Because she was obviously excited, and Lucian was my man.

The woman stuck out her hand. “I’m May Chan. Drexel Harris is my husband.”

We shook hands, when her name finally sank in. “Not the May Chan who owns Daisy Chain?”

“The very one.”

I’d shopped at one of her vintage clothing stores a few times but had seen her only from afar. “I love your place. You have the best clothes.”

May eyed my vintage 1940s A-line dress in dark-blue linen with little embroidered maroon butterflies on the bodice and grinned. “That’s from Daisy Chain, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Another satisfied customer. Just what I love to see.”

Our laughs cut short as the program began. The lights dimmed, and onto the ice came the hockey players, each of them escorted by a child on skates. It looked so damned cute, I found myself clapping and grinning wide. The players were announced in alphabetical order. As they neared Lucian’s name, my insides clenched in anticipation.

The moment Lucian glided onto the ice, holding the hand of a little girl with a dark ponytail and a beaming smile, the stadium erupted into a ruckus of cheers. Goose pimples prickled over my skin.

He really did look like a man mountain in full gear, huge and eternal. His smile was the same tight one he’d given me before we’d parted, but as he continued to wave, and the crowd continued to holler and cheer, a real smile broke free—fleeting and shy—and my eyes burned with unshed tears.

“He looks good,” May observed.

Of course he did. But it struck me that people might have assumed that Lucian had been diminished and sickly upon retirement. Is that what he feared they’d see when he came here? Either way, he was right in guessing that a lot of attention would be directed his way.

But he didn’t show any tension as he took his place with the others, and they soon started a mock game, the guys working with the kids. I spotted Brommy and Anton on the ice, each of them helping out their own kid. But my eyes mainly stayed on Lucian. God, he was so good with the little girl he’d been paired with. Good with all of them.

He moved like he was born on the ice. And it broke my heart just a little bit more. I wanted to wrap him up and hold him close, this big strong man who’d been through so much in such short order.

“I can’t believe he showed,” said a woman behind me. I didn’t turn but watched Lucian instead as her friend answered.

“I thought he couldn’t skate.”

I had no idea if they were talking about Lucian, but the chances were good, and my back went stiff, my ears homing in on their conversation.

“Well, he was an absolute mess when I left. Wouldn’t even get out of bed.”

“Oh, how sad. You poor thing.”

My brow raised at that.

“I know. But it was for the best. He wasn’t the man I thought he was, and I needed to move on.”

“Such a shame. Ozzy would have been a legend.”

“No more. Now he’s just a . . .” An expansive breathy sigh stirred my hair. “A sideshow.”

At that, I turned around. I couldn’t help it. My hackles were up, and anger coiled in my belly. At my side, May stiffened too. Clearly she’d heard them as well.

Two women—one pale and blonde, one tanned and brunette—stood affecting tragic expressions. The blonde, who had to be Cassandra, was beautiful in the way of a catalog model: flawless but almost doll-like. It was uncharitable to liken her to a Barbie, but I wasn’t feeling very generous at the moment.

Her big brown eyes locked onto me, and she gave me a bright smile. “Oh my God, are you Emma Maron?”

“I am.” The words barely got past my locked jaw. I wanted to slap this woman. Which was a shock; I’d never wanted to raise a hand to anyone. Not even Greg when I’d found him cheating. But my hand twitched at my side.

Cassandra didn’t seem to sense the danger and leaned closer. “I’m a huge fan of your show. Cassandra Lavlin. My fiancé is Adam Cashon.” She looked at me expectantly.

“How nice.” I wanted to turn away. I wanted to lay into her. I stood frozen.