Page 16 of Right Man, Right Time
“Just an ex who has re-entered my life,” I say, keeping it simple. She doesn’t need to know the details.
“Were you in love with this ex?”
“Yes,” I answer. “She was my high school sweetheart.”
“Oh,” Ollie says softly, empathy evident in her voice. “I’m assuming she’s the one who broke your heart?” I nod. “Yeah, that’s pretty obvious. Okay, how did she re-enter your life?”
“Got a job with the Agitators.”
“As in your hockey team?”
I nod again. “Yup.”I wonder if the bartender will pour me another drink after this one.
“Knowing full well that you are on the team?”
“Yup.”
“Wow,” she says, and I catch her shaking her head. “What a wench. That’s all kinds of messed up.”
“It is. And the reason my phone keeps blowing up is because my teammates know, and now it’s going to be this big fucking thing.”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
I turn toward her again and rest my arm on the bar while keeping a solid grip on my glass. “They’re protective of me. They saw what she did to me, they saw how she came back this summer and messed with my head for a goddamn second, and there’s no doubt in my mind that she searched out this job to continue to fuck with me. And they’ll be up my ass, making sure I’m okay.”
“Aah, I see.” She glances to the side. “So . . . would I be your pretend girlfriend to fend off their concerns? Make her jealous? What’s the proposal here?”
“You don’t have to. It was a stupid idea,” I say.
Her hand lands on my thigh, drawing my attention back to her gleaming eyes. “Maybe it wasn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I feel like we could help each other out. I have this assignment to take care of, and I know nothing about hockey. You have friends to fend off and an ex. I think we could, you know, work things out. But . . . the offer has to be good.” She lifts up and smiles.
“Why do I feel like I’m going to be indebted to you?”
“Because isn’t that how it always is? You truly need more from me than I need from you.”
“What about that doofus of an ex of yours and that Candace girl? Pretty sure you needed me first.”
“Semantics.” She waves her hand at me. “So what do you have to offer?”
“You’re not kidding?”
She shakes her head. “No. I need to see your offer, and if I think it’s worth my time, I’ll take it.”
“Are you sure you’re studying journalism? Not law?”
“Positive,” she says with a wide smile.
“Well, the fuck if I know.” I lift my drink. “Frankly, I’m kind of drunk at this point, so I don’t think I’m in the right mindset.”
“Great, so why don’t we talk this over tomorrow when you’re fresh?”
“Not quite sure you understand how hard it is for a thirty-one-year-old to bounce back from a night out.”
“You’ll be fine.” She grabs her clutch and pulls out her phone. “Here, enter your phone number and your name. What is it again? Simon?”
