Pipe Dreams Page 8

  With typical macho bravado, the players trooped toward the back of the place, laughing and trading jokes about whose turn it was to buy the first round.

  “I’ll stand for the bill tonight,” Nate said.

  “Well then.” O’Doul rubbed his hands together. “Order the good stuff, boys.”

  Heads swiveled everywhere as bar patrons did the math on who this group of large, handsome besuited men might be. More than a few women slipped off their bar stools, drinks in hand, and followed the players toward the rear, like flies to honey.

  Lauren wondered whether any of them were on their way to chat up the blazing hot goalie whose dark, wavy hair was just visible in the scrum. Mike Beacon was a single man again, and at the top of his career. The women probably hurled themselves at him like moths at a porch light.

  Let’s not think about that. She turned around, locating an empty booth in the very front of the restaurant. Perfect.

  She took a seat facing the street. Maybe she should even get her order to go—she wouldn’t want to be sitting here when the single players who’d hooked up with a female fan made their way drunkenly into the night.

  A young waiter approached the table. “Good evening! Can I start you off with a drink?” He set down a menu.

  “Sure,” Lauren said. “But do you have a Caesar salad I can order to go? And I’ll have a Diet Coke while I wait.”

  “Indeed we do. But the Greek salad is even better.”

  “Good tip. I’ll take one of those.”

  He gave her a friendly wink, slid the menu off the table and disappeared.

  Lauren pulled out society’s universal disappearing device—her phone. She opened up the app she used for scheduling car service orders and noted that the average wait time was only four minutes.

  Perfect.

  “Lauren.” She looked up to see Mike Beacon hesitating at the edge of her table. “May I sit down?”

  Here we go again. “I’m not staying long.”

  “Well.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to take up a lot of your time, but there’s something I needed to tell you.”

  Evade, evade! Her heart screamed. Last time they’d had a conversation she’d said too much, then spent thirty minutes in the bathroom crying. She sure didn’t want to repeat that performance. On the other hand, if she told him to fuck off right now, it would only prolong the drama.

  Damn you, Mike Beacon.

  “Have a seat,” she said, regretting it already. How long did it take to whip up a Greek salad? Ten minutes, tops. She could stay cheerful for that long, even if it killed her. “Congratulations on your win tonight.”

  “Thank you,” he said, slipping into the booth. “Felt good to prove we could do it again.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  He studied her with big, dark eyes, their lashes so thick and long that they were wasted on a man. “Listen,” he said. “You were right. I owe you a huge apology.”

  Lauren waited for him to go on. “Okay?”

  His fingertips did a fidgety dance on the tabletop. “Two years ago I made a really hard decision.” His dark eyes checked hers. “But the way I went about it wasn’t cool. I’m sorry I shut you out. You didn’t deserve that treatment from me. I’m sorry I made you the collateral damage to my lifetime of fuckups.”

  The waiter chose that moment to show up with Lauren’s soda. “Thank you,” she said quickly, taking the glass. She was thanking him for the interruption as much as for the soda.

  She had no idea what to say to Mike. She did feel like collateral damage. Even two years later, one glance at him made her remember how quickly her love had been thrown away. Like yesterday’s trash.

  “Your salad will be another five minutes. Can I bring you anything else?” the waiter asked.

  “No, thank you.”

  When they were alone again, Mike reached across the table, covering her hand with his. “I just want you to know how sorry I am. I’m sorry every day, Lo.”

  She stared down at his hand where it covered hers. They used to touch like this all the time. Do not cry. “Thank you.” I think. “It was a shock. But more than that, you weren’t honest with me. You didn’t tell me how bad everything really was.” She took her hand out from under his and put it in her lap.

  “I know,” he said softly. “I had so much guilt about the unlucky hand that Shelly was dealt. First, she gave up a lot to have my child and marry me. Then she got sicker than anyone her age should ever be. And Elsa was freaking out. She was so scared . . .”

  He stopped talking and Lauren made the mistake of raising her eyes. His were wet. He gave a quick sniff before continuing. “I thought . . . either I can be happy, or I can be the man they needed me to be. I had to choose.”

  Lauren opened her mouth to argue but then slammed it closed again. She’d spent a year arguing with him in her heart. We could have stayed on Long Island together. We could have worked something out. But if he’d wanted that solution, he would have come up with it himself.

  His eyes softened in such a way that Lauren was a hundred percent sure that he could actually hear her thoughts. “I should have explained everything to you. That was my huge mistake. But I couldn’t talk to you about it. I was too afraid.”

  “Of what?” Her voice came out as a squeak. “That I’d try to talk you out of it?”

  “Yeah, and that I’d let you.” Big, liquid eyes held hers. “My heart was with you, Lo. But I didn’t feel like I had a choice.”

  “Why?” It was the one-word question she’d held in her heart for far too long.

  “I made a vow.” His gaze fell to the table top. “Until death do us part.”

  Heat climbed up Lauren’s neck. “And that’s admirable. I get it. But only one of us became Saint Mike. I spent six months wondering what I’d done so wrong that made you erase me from your life.” Hell, her voice had gone all high and crazy. She took a deep breath. “I read about Shelly’s health problems in press releases, Mike. I learned she died on Twitter. I don’t know why you thought you had to throw a grenade at my life in order to make everything right.”

  He cringed. “I’m really sorry it went down like that,” he said quickly. “I owed you an explanation, and you never got one.”

  Lauren took a deep breath and realized she actually wasn’t going to cry. Because his apology helped. A lot. She’d been waiting a long time to hear him say these things, and they shored her up inside.

  “I will always regret the way I handled things,” he continued.

  “You said you . . .” Loved me. Hell. She couldn’t say that out loud. “The betrayal really stung. I haven’t really trusted anyone since.” She didn’t like admitting it. But the truth was she hadn’t gotten close to anyone new in ages—not romantically, and not even friends.

  “I’m sorry, Lo.” He put his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. “I made a mess of everything.”

  “Elsa probably disagrees,” she said, and then kicked herself for comforting him. That’s not my job anymore, she reminded herself.

  He shrugged. “Elsa’s had a really hard couple of years. Some days I think she’s doing okay. But then there are times when we’ve squared off over something. And she just looks at me like she can’t believe the incompetence of her only surviving parent.”

  Lauren chuckled, but she was suddenly so drained of energy. And the waiter set a little shopping bag down on the end of the table, then set down her check.

  “Here.” She scrambled for her pocketbook. “Thanks,” she said, quickly laying some cash in the bill folder. It was time this evening came to an end.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Mike said.

  Please don’t, Lauren begged silently. She had reached her emotional overload threshold already. But he followed her out onto the wet sidewalk.

  The rain had stopped, thank god. Whipping ou
t her Katt Phone, a few taps found her an Uber driver who was just three minutes away.

  Mike looked up the shimmering street and sighed.

  Lauren followed his gaze, wondering what he saw. They were on one of D.C.’s many grand streets, full of stone facades and wide sidewalks.

  “I like cities,” he said, turning to her. He reached up and touched her cheek with one calloused hand. “I wanted to live in one with you.”

  “Michael,” she said sharply.

  “What?”

  “You can’t say things like that.”

  “But it’s true.” He looked down at her, and what she saw in his eyes stole her breath. His expression was achingly familiar—the same tractor beam of love that he used to show her all the time.

  She got trapped in that gaze, the same way she always had. She didn’t push him away as he got closer. Then his arms were around her and his face was buried in her hair. His hug was meltingly sweet, and Lauren bit her own lip just to stop herself from feeling any joy.

  He took a deep breath and pressed his lips to her cheek.

  If she turned her face, he would kiss her. Instead, she tucked her chin onto the shoulder of his suit jacket. “What do you want from me, Mike? You want me to say I forgive you, so you can feel better about the whole thing?”

  He pulled back, his ridiculously handsome cleft chin right in front of her nose. “No, honey. I’ll never feel better. But I was hoping that we could get to a place where I walk into a room and you don’t feel you need an instant excuse to leave it.”

  Lauren held very still. They were still chest to chest, and the proximity was making her a little crazy. “It’s not easy to be around you,” she admitted. “Too many memories.”

  He made a sound in his chest that she felt everywhere. “Well. If it’s never going to get any easier, I’ll have to settle for making sure that we’re both in agreement that I was an asshole. Hell, I’ll make a formal announcement over the jet loudspeaker if you want.”

  “No!”

  He chuckled. “I would, though. I’d do anything for you. I mean that. If you need a favor—I want you to remember that I said so. Twenty years from now, if there’s a spider in your bathroom you can call me to come and kill it.”

  “I’m not afraid of spiders.”

  “Okay, a rattlesnake then.”

  His joke broke the tension, so she tilted her chin up to meet his smiling eyes. And that’s when he kissed her. It was a sneak attack. She wasn’t ready for the soft lips that met hers, or the whiff of beer on his lips, or the masculine hand that cupped her face, angling her nearer.

  Mine, her body said, pressing closer.

  No! Her brain tried to stomp out the brush fire that kiss had caused. She stepped backward to break the spell. “I can’t,” she gasped.

  That’s when the door to the tavern swung open and Ari, the team massage therapist, and Georgia, the publicist, stepped out of the bar. “Hi,” Ari said, her face becoming cautious, as if wondering if she was interrupting something.

  “Hi.” Lauren took another healthy step away from Mike. “I was just heading back to the hotel. Want to join me? The car should be . . .” She looked around. “Right there, I think.” An SUV was waiting for the light at the other side of the intersection.

  “Uh, sure?” Georgia gave her a funny little smile, as if surprised at the offer.

  When the car stopped at the curb beside them, Mike opened the rear door and made a show of greeting the driver and looking him over. “Take care of these ladies,” he said, and Lauren wanted to roll her eyes. As if she didn’t use Uber at least once a day, in cities all over the world. Alone.

  Ari slid into the car first, followed by Georgia.

  Lauren avoided his gaze as she followed, but he squeezed her arm as she got into the car. “Take care of yourself.”

  “I will.”

  He closed the car door, giving her a wistful look as it clicked shut.

  The car pulled away from the curb, and Lauren leaned back, feeling shell-shocked. Mike Beacon just kissed me, she said to herself. Did that really happen? “Jesus Christ,” she breathed.

  “I hope we didn’t interrupt anything,” Georgia said quietly.

  “Nope,” Lauren said quickly.

  “Patrick told me just last week that you and Beak used to be a thing,” Ari said.

  “True story.” Lauren sighed.

  “What happened?”

  Perhaps the answer to that question was more complicated than Lauren used to think. “Depends who you ask. He broke up with me over the phone the month we were shopping for apartments together.”

  “Ouch,” Georgia said.

  “The other side of the story is that his ex-wife was terminally ill. He panicked and went back to her after a year and a half with me.”

  “Holy shit!” Ari yelped.

  “I never saw it coming. So I had a rough couple of months.” Try two years. She still wasn’t over him, damn it. “We haven’t talked at all, either. But he wants to be friends again, and I don’t know if I can do it.”

  Ari and Georgia were both staring at her with undisguised fascination. Then again, this was more talking than she’d ever done to these two. “So that’s my life. How are yours?”

  Georgia blinked. “And here I thought I was a little stressed out about planning a charity benefit in only two days. Compared to your thing I guess it isn’t such a big deal.”

  “What benefit?” Ari asked.

  Georgia made a face. “Nate had this bet with a friend from college. Some Florida billionaire.”

  “Alex Engels,” Lauren volunteered. “She owns cable TV networks, real estate, and an NBA team.”

  “Right,” Georgia agreed. “They had a bet going. Whoever’s team didn’t make the play-offs had to donate a million dollars to the other guy’s charity of choice. The Bruisers made it but Alex’s team didn’t. So she’s throwing a black-tie cocktail party in forty-eight hours. Whatever she raises she’ll match on top of her own million. All the players have to go, because this thing is being billed as a way to meet both a hockey team and a basketball team in one night.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Ari said. “Nate won a bet . . . so I need to put on a gown and heels? How is that fair?”

  “You have two days to find one,” Lauren put in. “And an entire team to prepare for the next round of grueling competition. No sweat, right?”

  Ari smiled. “You’re funny, Lauren. How do we not know this?”

  “Eh. Being around the team makes me cranky. I have to psych myself up just to step into any building where Mike Beacon is. It’s hard to be funny when you’re trying not to throw up.”

  “Huh,” Georgia said slowly. “That’s why you always tell Nate that you hate hockey.”

  Lauren smiled for the first time in hours and hours. “I say that just to be a pain. He knows that hockey used to be my life, and that this team was my family. My father was the GM until Nate fired him and promoted Hugh. My boyfriend was the captain.”

  Ari snapped her fingers. “I’d forgotten that Beak was captain. Patrick told me he only got the job because Beacon had some family emergencies. I sure never heard the whole story, though.”

  This surprised Lauren a lot. “I guess it’s nice to know that not everyone is a gossip.”

  “I’ve worked for the team almost since the minute Nate bought it and I never heard about you and Beak,” Georgia said. “Maybe the gossip wasn’t as bad as all that?”

  “Maybe not now. But the hockey wives all knew Shelly because she’d been their friend for years, and she was well liked. And when she and Mike broke up they all blamed me, even though it wasn’t like that. Later, when he left me, they were filled with glee.”

  “Yikes,” said Georgia softly.

  “I moved to Manhattan in a big hurry then.” The worst part about that a
wful time wasn’t the bitchy looks in the grocery store, though. It was her own anger. She’d hated Mike for leaving. And she’d been angry at Shelly for using an illness to claw back the man she’d cheated on.

  That’s how it had looked, anyway. And then, when Lauren figured out that Shelly was actually dying, it only made her feel guilty. Horribly guilty.

  The car pulled up in front of the hotel, and both Georgia and Ari reached for their pocketbooks. “No—I’ve got it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course. It’s just a few dollars and you two were practically my therapists all the way here.” She could hardly believe how much personal stuff she’d just spewed at these two. They probably thought she was twice as crazy now that they knew the real story.

  “Well, I hope it gets a little easier,” Ari said, holding the car door open.

  “I’ll be fine,” Lauren said. She was used to handling things by herself. “If you have any real issues with finding a dress, call me. Clothes are my hobby. You and I are about the same size,” she pointed out to Ari. “You could borrow something.”

  Ari looked shocked at the suggestion, reminding Lauren just how unfriendly she’d been up until now. Yay. Something else to feel guilty about. “If I’m in a real bind, I just might take you up on that,” Ari said with a smile. “I have a tightly packed therapy schedule tomorrow. I don’t see how I could get near a store.”

  The three of them entered the hotel lobby. “I’ll text you a couple of pictures of dresses tomorrow when I’m at home,” Lauren offered.

  “Thank you. Seriously.” Ari pushed the elevator button. “All my dresses are either for work or they look like a club kid’s wear. Because I used to be a club kid.”

  “I’ll set you up,” Lauren promised as the elevator doors opened. It would be easy. Ari would look smashing in anything.

  “I’m so relieved.”

  Lauren’s was the first stop, on the fourth floor. “Good night, girls,” she said as cheerfully as an emotionally exhausted person could manage. “See you at the butt crack of dawn.”