Maybe because she knew I’d be shit at it?
Damn, the divorce really fucked with my head. It hurt when Kara sat me down at our kitchen table and calmly slid those papers toward me. Before that day, I’d never failed at anything so…big before. Small things, sure. But marriage?
I stifle a heavy breath and gaze at Hailey’s face, her eyes still glazed from the sex. I don’t want to fail her. I might not be able to promise forever, but I think her divorce screwed her up, too. I think she needs to spend time with a man who can’t keep his hands off her, a man who can show her how fucking cool she is.
“Hey,” I say suddenly. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Research,” she answers. “We’re thinking of opening a second Fetch location, so I’m looking into possible sites.”
“You need to get it all done this weekend or can you take a break?”
“Why? What do you have in mind?”
“I’m taking the girls to the CN Tower tomorrow,” I explain, grimacing. “I might need the moral support.”
Hailey wrinkles her brow. “Moral support? But you get along great with your kids. You love them.”
“Oh, I love them,” I agree. “I’ll need the support for another reason.”
Her eyes fill with curiosity. “Oooh, tell me more.”
“Nope.” I sit up and cross my arms over my chest. Then I realize I still have my sweater on. And so does Hottie. And that makes me snicker, because we just had crazy hot sex and we both kept our shirts on?
“What’s so funny?” she demands.
“Nothing.” I bring my attention back to the topic on hand. “So you wanna come along?”
Hailey stares at me. “You’re really not going to explain the moral support remark?”
“Nope,” I say again, flashing her a cheerful smile.
“Why?” she whines.
“Because it’s embarrassing,” I answer frankly.
A slight smile tugs on the corners of her lips. “The mighty Matthew Eriksson gets embarrassed? All right. Well, this is one mystery I refuse to let go unsolved.” Her smile turns into a full-fledged grin. “I’m in.”
Sixteen
More Than a Thousand Feet
Hailey
“Stay away from the window, Junebug! I mean it!”
Oh boy. I’m witnessing the impossible. Matt Eriksson…one of the biggest, toughest hockey players in the league, the man who can slay me with one crooked smile and bring me to my knees with one raspy-voiced word…is a wimp.
Okay, he’s not a wimp. But apparently my hockey god is human. As in, a human who’s deathly afraid of heights.
“But it’s so pretty!” Matt’s daughter whines. “I wanna see!”
“Me too!” Libby pipes up, dashing up to the huge glass window to join her twin.
Matt looks like he’s about to have a coronary. His face is paler than the fluffy white clouds that we’re pretty much at eye level with. Yeah, we’re in the clouds. This tower is frickin’ tall. More than a thousand feet, if the brochure in my hands is telling the truth. And is it weird that I’ve lived in Toronto all my life and never visited its most popular tourist attraction?
“Guys, listen to this,” I say, reading from the crisp booklet. “There’s something called an Outdoor Sky Terrace one level below us.”
Matt makes a sputtering sound, his head swinging toward me in sheer betrayal. “They let you go outside? From this height! Jesus Christ! I’m calling my lawyer.”
I can’t stop a laugh. “Your lawyer?”
“Yeah,” he huffs. “To pre-emptively sue this place for all the murders they’re going to be complicit in.”
Sighing, I walk over and place a hand on his big arm. He’s wearing a gray sweater that showcases every delicious contour of his torso, and faded blue jeans that hug his ass so right that I’ve already caught several other women ogling him. But it’s hard for me to ogle when he’s clearly so upset.
“Matthew,” I say softly, and his lips twitch at my use of his full name. I stroke my fingers up his arm until they reach the underside of his chin. I firmly meet his eyes. “Breathe.”
There’s a beat. And then I hear the slightest intake of breath.
“This tower has been here for decades and it’s still standing. People fly in from all over the world to see it. The elevators carry a gazillion people to the top every day.” I sneak a peek at his girls to make sure they’re focusing on the view and not us, then caress the strong line of his jaw. “We’re perfectly safe up here. Okay?”
He exhales slowly. “Okay.”
“That a boy.” I give his cheek an exaggerated pinch. “Now come on, let’s move a little closer to the windows. Libby wants to find out if we can see your condo from up here.”
Matt crosses his arms over his chest. “You go. I’m good where I am.”
Another laugh bubbles in my throat. I manage to tamp it down, though. Truthfully, it’s a bit of a confidence booster to know that Matt is afraid of heights. It knocks him a foot or two off the pedestal I’ve put him on. Plus, it makes me feel like I’m more in control, when normally I feel so wildly out of control when I’m around him.
“Hailey, come see!” June calls. “I think that’s a doggy down there!”
I bite my lip in amusement. I’m fairly certain that whatever she’s seeing is not a doggy. From this height, she’d never be able to make out one measly dog. But I still humor the little girl, bending down beside her, squinting extra hard, and then agreeing that, yes, that teeny black dot hundreds of feet below is absolutely a dog.
“Daddy’s sweaty,” Libby whispers to me.
I glance behind us, then back at Libby’s wide gray eyes. “Seems so,” I confirm. “It’s probably because it’s so hot in here with all these people.” I gesture to the crowd of tourists all around us. Everyone but Matt is oohing and aahing at the breathtaking view of the city.
“It’s ’cause he’s a scaredy-cat,” Libby disagrees.
A snort flies out. “Well. Even daddies can be scaredy-cats sometimes.”
June shifts her gaze from the window to study me. “You’re pretty like my mommy,” she says frankly.
Heat rises in my cheeks, while discomfort fills my belly. I don’t like the comparison to Matt’s ex-wife, especially since the former Mrs. Eriksson isn’t just pretty—she’s a bombshell. “Thank you,” I manage. “So are you. And you,” I add, smiling at June’s identical twin.
“Your nose is shiny,” Libby says in response.
It takes me a second to realize she’s talking about my nose ring. June decides she needs to touch it, and suddenly two chubby fingers are probing the tiny silver stud, and I don’t know whether to laugh or die of embarrassment.
“Does it hurt?” June asks curiously.
“Nope. Half the time I forget it’s there.”
“Do you have a dog?” Libby asks.
“Do you like ice cream?” June asks.