I pick a soft, loose, long white blouse, fitted black ankle pants and leopard-print heels. Pants are the key to getting through this night. I need to have minimal exposed skin so Elijah can’t touch it. I’ve missed him like he’s a limb that’s been severed. And seeing him on the plane, feeling our bodies brush, Jesus, I was on fire. That can’t happen again, especially not with fans around.

I stare at my refection in the mirror as I apply my lipstick. I look healthy and relaxed with glowing skin and clear, glassy eyes. It’s not just makeup tricks, it’s the fact that as soon as I walked into my hotel room, I stripped down and touched myself, coming hard with his name on my lips. He had me that worked up, and I thought climaxing would clear my head and give me focus, but it didn’t. I still want him. I still feel myself falling in love with him. I can’t. Not right now. I have a lot to work out.

I smooth my hair and heave a big breath, exhaling slowly. I love my job, but I’m starting to love him too. Jude knocks on my door. I know it’s Jude not just because I asked him to swing by but also because he’s knocked in the same rhythm since he was a kid. I glance at the clock on the table as I walk past the bed to the door. I have half an hour before I have to be in the restaurant downstairs for the fan dinner.

I swing open my door. Jude is in Thunder sweats, flip-flops and a heather-gray T-shirt, and his hair is askew. He must have just woken up from a nap.

“Hey! Come in!”

He wanders over to my bed and falls back onto it like he’s practicing a trust fall. His eyes are closed when he hits the pillow. I smirk. “Tired, princess?”

He lifts a hand and rubs his eyes, then yawns. “I can’t sleep like I used to. I keep trying, but I mostly just lie awake and think about the million things that can injure babies or how quickly I can get home if she goes into labor again. Or the billion ways I might fuck up this parenting thing.”

He looks at me, and I can tell he’s not being flippant. He’s serious. “FYI, just the fact that you’re stressing out about all of that makes you great dad material. And this kid is a Braddock. It’ll be tough and smart. And Zoey is tough too. She’ll do just fine in labor, even if God forbid you don’t make it back in time. Have a little faith in your woman and your DNA, Jude.”

He gives me a small smile. “Thanks.”

“About DNA, the reason I asked you to come see me is I need your help on something I’ve pitched to the ALS Foundation,” I explain. “It’s a social media campaign.”

“Is this for the Thunder?” He grabs a second pillow to put under his melon.

I shake my head and lean my ass against the TV console. “No. It’s just me contributing on my own. I had this idea, something that might bring it more coverage, like the ice bucket challenge did.”

“I didn’t know you were doing that.” He looks impressed. “That’s great, Dix.”

“Thanks. It started this week,” I explain. “But big names are key to making this work. I know you know a few really well, like the supermodel Stella Ascott and that TV actor who you party with in Toronto. The one from the teen paranormal show that’s so popular.”

He nods, and I spend the next ten minutes explaining my campaign, which involves celebrities, like the ones he knows who have massive social media accounts, going dark, posting nothing but one written fact or statistic on a symptom from each stage of ALS every day for a week until, on the final day, they post nothing, or just blackness, to show how the disease robs you of everything. He listens intently, sitting up as I get to the end of my pitch.

“I don’t know these people like you do, and I don’t think I’d get anywhere cold-calling them, and I can’t use my position with the team because it’s not for the Thunder, so can you help?”

“Yeah, of course.” He smiles and I see pride in it. “It’s a great idea.”

“Thanks!”

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to take this on on top of all the work you do for the team?” he asks, standing. “Between this and your job and all the time you’ve been spending at Mom and Dad’s, you’re going to have no life.”

“I’m okay with that for now,” I reply vaguely.

He studies me. Jude is ridiculously intuitive, to the point that it’s almost creepy. I used to think I just lacked the ability to have a poker face, but I’ve seen him read other people just as well, so it’s not only me. He tilts his head a little. “You turn twenty-six soon. You should not only want a social life, you should have one. And be dating. A lot. I swear the entire sorority is in some kind of spinsterhood competition.”

I’d be insulted, except it’s amusing. When I was growing up, he used to tell me and my sisters we were too ugly and annoying for boyfriends, and then when we had them, he’d try to scare them away. Now he’s worried we don’t have boyfriends.

“Yeah, you caught us. The person who dies alone wins,” I quip and roll my eyes.

“Well, it looks like it’s going to be a three-way tie,” he jokes back as I glance at the clock and grab my purse off the chair in the corner.

“Two-way. Winnie technically has Tyson,” I remind him and grin. “And in the event of a tie the person with the most cats is the victor.”

He laughs and follows me out of my room. As we walk down the hall toward the elevators I glance over at him. “I want what Mom and Dad have.”

He looks over at me, his eyes searching for any hint of levity like I’m somehow going to turn this into a joke. I look back at him with serious eyes. “They met each other and they just knew. And the universe knew, and everything just fell into place for them. It was perfect, and because of that it was easy and simple.”

Jude looks like he just smelled a fart. “In the words of my future wife and the mother of my unborn child, oh Mylanta! That’s a load of crap.”

We reach the elevators. I press the Down button and he presses the Up. “How do you figure? They got married three months after they met, and they’ve been together thirty years. They’ve had fights and financial and emotional ups and downs, but neither of them had to give anything up or suffer because they wanted to be together. The stars aligned.”

“Dad picked up and moved to Canada—illegally—to be with Mom,” Jude reminds me. “They got married quickly so he could stay legally. Yeah, they loved each other, but that wasn’t the ideal way to get hitched. And Dad’s parents weren’t thrilled with him just leaving Detroit and his family like that. Things were tense between them until I was like eight. I remember it because I could feel it every time we went to visit them. And Zoey and I are soul mates and the perfect couple.” I glance over as he grins at his own lack of modesty. “We have the perfect love affair, but it’s not the perfect story, technically. She was married and in the middle of a vicious divorce, and I was trying to hide from all the women I’d banged. And then I knocked her up less than a year in, and we’re not even married yet. Sounds crazy to anyone you’d tell it to, but yet, we’re perfect.”

“She’s perfect. You’re perfect adjacent,” I reply as his elevator arrives and he steps inside.

“All I’m saying is don’t look for someone who doesn’t require sacrifice,” he tells me. “Look for someone worth sacrificing for.”

His words settle inside me all heavy and warm. He’s fucking brilliant when he lets himself be, but I can’t acknowledge that in front of him, so instead I smirk. “Have you been memorizing fortune cookie messages again?”

He rolls his eyes so hard it looks like he’s passing out. “Another bonding moment down the shitter.”

My elevator doors open as his close. I step inside next to two guys in golf wear and let Jude’s words roll around my head. I wish this dinner tonight wasn’t happening. I wish I could stay away from Eli long enough for us both to figure out if this is really as serious as it feels and what to do about it.

I’m supposed to meet Tom before the winner and Eli get here. He wants to go over some questions about the contest so he gets the details right in his story. The bar is fairly busy but I can see Tom at the end of the long polished oak bar. He’s with Vinnie LaMarche and Eddie Rollins. I walk over but stop a few feet away to ask the bartender for a Pinot Grigio. I hear Eddie laugh at something, and then I hear Vinnie tell Tom, “He has a girlfriend. You could ask him about that.”

The bartender slides the full wineglass across the bar. I scrawl my room number on the bill and walk over to the guys. “Who has a girlfriend?”

“Oh, hey!” Tom leans in and hugs me, which I wasn’t expecting and, frankly, didn’t want, so I kind of freeze up. When he lets go I pull back so abruptly some wine slops over the side of my wineglass. He doesn’t seem to notice my reaction. “I was just asking Rollins and Marchie for ideas on some questions for Elijah,” he says as I take a sip of my wine.

I swallow the wine in my mouth so quickly I’m surprised I don’t choke. “He has a girlfriend?”

“I think so. He mentioned her when he was here for that charity event,” Vinnie explains.

And I feel myself slipping into panic mode. Is it me? Was he talking about me? Oh God, do they know it’s me? Wait, he thinks I’m his girlfriend? I want to smile at that thought, but then I realize Tom can’t probe him on it if it is me. “We don’t usually let reporters ask about personal lives, unless the player brings it up first.”

“You can be subtle about it,” Vinnie suggests, and I want to toss my wine in his face. “Ask him if he knows a Julie. That’s her name.”

Wait…what?

Tom laughs. “I don’t think that’s subtle, Vinnie.”

“Ask him about college. He’s got some wild stories about college,” Eddie adds and sips his light beer. “Like having an affair with a teacher’s wife!”

“What?” It flies out of my mouth before I can stop it, and it’s hard and judgmental.

Vinnie glares at Eddie. “I told you you couldn’t tell anyone, Eddie, you dick.”

Eddie shrugs and smiles at my still horrified face. “Relax, Marchie. We all have secrets, right, Baby Bra—”

I step between Vinnie and Tom and right up into Eddie’s face. “If you call me Baby Braddock ever again I will grab you by your tiny dick so hard you never have a Baby Rollins.”

“You can’t talk to me like that!” he replies, offended.

“Take it up with HR then. I’m sure you know their number, since you reported Nadine after you got bored with sleeping with her,” I hiss back. “And FYI, everyone does have secrets, but the one about your tiny dick is out, thanks to the women you mistreat who don’t have to pretend you have anything worthwhile down there anymore.”

I turn to Tom. He looks astonished but also a little impressed. “Let’s grab a table.”

He nods and follows me toward the restaurant attached to the bar. I hear Vinnie tell Eddie, “She burned you so bad I feel like I should pour my drink on you to put out the flames.”

I smile at that. Fuck Eddie. Let him go to HR. He told inappropriate personal information about a player to the press, and he tried to belittle me. Even if I get my wrist slapped, it will be worth it. I’m not even that furious with Eddie. I’m actually hurt by the information about Eli. Who the hell is Julie?

“Before you say it, don’t worry. I won’t ask Casco about the teacher’s wife or even the girl named Julie.” Tom smiles at me reassuringly. “I know how hockey players are, and besides, I don’t write for TMZ.”

I give him what I hope looks like a grateful smile. “I appreciate that, Tom.”

The hostess has our reserved table ready, so she grabs the menus and asks us to follow her. Tom motions for me to precede him and puts a light hand on the middle of my back when I do. It’s a simple gentlemanly gesture, but I don’t like it, so I pick up my pace quickly so his hand loses contact.

We sit next to each other, facing the entrance. I open my menu to pretend I’m busy reading, but Tom ignores his and leans forward on the table. “So, you seeing anyone, Dixie?”

“No. Not really,” I reply, not pulling my focus from the menu. “I don’t have time.”

“There’s always time,” Tom counters. “How about I show you by taking you for a drink after the next home game?”

“Hey.” Eli’s delicious rumble of a voice pulls both our eyes up. He’s striding toward us, looking like an office-casual Disney prince with his shock of dark hair dropping over his forehead and his dark jeans and fitted gray cashmere sweater with just hints of his white-and-blue-checkered button-down popping out at the cuffs and collar. I notice people noticing him because of the fluid way he carries such a tall, broad body. It’s mesmerizing, and I always have a hard time not staring, but tonight, looking at him kind of hurts, so I easily glance away.

Tom stands and they shake hands.

“Dixie.”

I look up at him when Eli says my name. “The fan will be here any second. Have a seat and finish up your interview with Tom. I’ll go meet him at the hostess station.”

I push back my chair, grab my purse and walk away. I pull my phone out of my purse and glance at the time. The guy was supposed to be here by now. God, I just want this to start so it can end and I can head back to my room with a bottle of wine and Skype my sisters.

I feel a hand curl around my wrist. I can’t see him, but I know it’s him. I know his touch. My body, on instinct, wants to melt into it, but my brain is screaming no. I turn to face him and subtly take a step back, removing my wrist and myself from his grasp. He looks hurt and then frustrated. I look at the entrance. I turn back to him. “Did you have an affair with a teacher’s wife?”

His eyes flare and his shoulders tense. “Who told you about that?”

“So you’re the type of guy that sleeps with married women?”

His mouth presses together in a hard line, and I can hear the air rush from his lungs. He takes a step closer and lowers that already low voice. “They were already separated because he had slept with his teaching assistant. She picked me because I was in his class. I was a horny, dumb college kid who allowed myself to be her instrument of revenge.”

I don’t respond. I don’t even know why I’m acting like that story is why I’m mad. It’s shocking and not what I would have done in college, but it’s the past. I can’t fault him for that. I can fault him if he’s got a girlfriend named Julie at this very moment.

He reaches for my wrist again and pulls me off to the side, near the hallway that leads to the kitchen. He leans down so we’re almost face-to-face. “Are you really going to fault me for my past? Are you that type of girl?”

“No. I’m not,” I reply and pause, finding the strength to say the rest in a voice that doesn’t wobble. “I’m the type of girl that never thought to ask if you were seeing someone when I slept with you.”

“What?” he asks, and I can see him struggling to absorb my words.

“Who is Julie?”

Over Eli’s shoulder a tall forty-something man walks up to the hostess table in a San Francisco Thunder jersey. The preteen boy beside him is in a Thunder jersey too. I sidestep Eli. “Mr. Jones?”

He turns and smiles. “Yes! I’m so sorry we’re late. We live way across town, and traffic was crazy.”

“It’s fine,” I assure him and smile at Charlie, who is staring past me with the brightest smile on his face and wide, starstruck eyes.

He tugs the sleeve of his dad’s jersey. “He’s here, Dad!”

I turn and see Eli step forward, wearing a bright toothpaste-commercial smile. “Hi there! Charlie, is it?”

Charlie nods. “You’re my favorite player. And my dad’s too!”

“Well, you guys are my favorite Torontonians!” Eli exclaims.

“Eli, why don’t you take Mr. Jones and Charlie to the table. I’ll join you in just a second,” I tell him, because seeing them in their jerseys reminds me I forgot the gift bag full of Thunder gear I brought for them upstairs in my room.

Eli looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. Instead he leads the way to the table. I hurry out of the restaurant and through the bar to the lobby. I’m marching across the marble floor to the elevators when I see Jude. He’s wearing the same clothes he was wearing in my room, which is nothing he would ever wear in public. I wonder why…

My eyes catch a glimpse of Levi just behind him. Levi is known for his stern expression, but I’ve never seen this level of seriousness on his face. It makes my blood grow cold. I change my trajectory so I’m walking straight at them, confusion and fear growing with each step.

They both notice me at the same time. My step falters at what I see next. Jude’s blue eyes are filled with tears and his face is awash in anguish. His step falters too.

Oh my God, it’s Dad.