“Oh. I’m sorry for assuming, Charlotte. That was thoughtless of me.”
“No, not at all.” My cheeks burned as I tried to think of what to say. “This was . . . unplanned, obviously. Riley and I had broken up.”
About three hours before it happened, I thought but didn’t say.
“And the father is . . . in your life? If you don’t mind my asking?”
I nodded. “He is. He’s been very supportive.”
At least, he’d tried to be. I wasn’t responding to Bennett’s texts and invitations to get together much because I was overwhelmed already with work, being sick, and trying to eat and get enough rest.
“Whatever you need, just let me know,” Wren said. “Time off, a lighter schedule . . .”
“No. I’m fine. I just wanted to let you know because I’ll need time off for doctor’s appointments and maternity leave when the time comes.”
“I hope you’ll stay with me. That’s selfish, I know, because you could earn more in private practice.”
Why had she passed me over for the juvenile job if she thought so highly of my work? I was about to ask when she spoke instead.
“You’ve impressed me so far, Charlotte. I chose Riley for the juvenile job because he’s more experienced. It wasn’t an easy decision.”
I nodded. “It was a big letdown for me. Not just because I wanted the job so much, but because I didn’t even know he’d applied.”
“Oh, that had to hurt. I’m sorry.”
“I’m okay now,” I said. “I feel like maybe things happened the way they were supposed to.”
“I can assure you that if you stay with me, you’ll be moving up in the future. Just keep doing exactly what you’re doing.”
“Of course I’ll stay. I love it here.”
Other than the awkwardness of working in the same office as my ex, I did. I stood, relieved to have this conversation behind me. I thanked Wren and went back to my office, forcing myself not to grab another handful of M&M’s. Instead, I’d walk to the restaurant across from the courthouse and get lunch.
I scrolled through messages on my way. There was one from Bennett.
Bennett: Can we get together? I’m leaving on a road trip tomorrow and I want to see you.
Part of me wanted to. I liked him. He wasn’t what I’d expected from a hockey player. My brother was brash and flew off the handle over nothing. But Bennett, despite his big, powerful frame, was nothing like that. He was easy to talk to and took things in stride.
Plus, he was one of the sexiest men I’d ever met. Those warm brown eyes melted me. And his smile did the same. He was sweet and strong.
But I was in survival mode. It was all I could do to keep up with a demanding caseload at work and get the rest I needed in this exhausting phase of my pregnancy.
Not to mention that I didn’t want to develop feelings for Bennett. We’d be co-parents forever, but that didn’t mean we had to force ourselves into a relationship. He was standing by me because I was pregnant, and that was admirable. But seeing as he was hot as hell and a hockey player, I knew he could have women anytime he wanted. I wasn’t the kind of woman who could look the other way.
Not that he’d even suggested a relationship. I was way ahead of myself. I texted him back.
Me: Sorry, busy. Have a good trip.
I’d watch his games on the same Internet channel I’d been catching them on lately. I hadn’t watched many of Liam’s games in the past, but I had a renewed interest now.
Every time I saw his “Morse” sweater on the computer screen, I smiled. Funny thing, having a secret crush on the father of my child. But I kind of did, and I couldn’t have him finding out.
Bennett
I charged down the ice, passing Max Bagwell and edging my stick around the puck. His stick came down on mine and we fought for it. I was breathless, energy surging through me as I dug in and hooked my stick around the puck and eased it to Killian.
“Fucker,” Bagwell muttered.
I was entirely focused on this game, not letting my mind wander to anything else. When the second line climbed over the wall and took the ice, I went to the bench and sat down. After some water and a few deep breaths, I watched the game. My gaze wandered to the section where the girlfriends and wives of the players sat. My teammate Joey Moroni’s wife wore a Flyers sweater, a big grin spreading across her face as she cheered.
I’d never had a woman sitting there. Since moving to Fenway, Indiana, I hadn’t met anyone I wanted a serious relationship with. But now, I was picturing Charlotte sitting up there in one of my sweaters, blond curls loose on her shoulders.
Was it because she was pregnant with my kid? I asked myself that at least once a day. I’d been very disappointed when she hadn’t called after our night together, but I would’ve gotten over it. Now, though . . . now, I missed her.