by Lily Kate
“I wanted a family. I wanted so badly to make us a family,” I say. “And I failed.”
“Lauren?” she murmurs.
I nod. “I asked her to marry me three times. Before Charli, after Charli was born, and again on the day she left us.”
“Did you love her?”
“I thought so, initially. Maybe I did, but it wasn’t true, lasting love. When she left, she told me that she’d never loved me. Never had been in love with me. She didn’t cry, she didn’t call, she didn’t send letters. She just erased us like a blip in her book, an error while balancing the checkbook.”
“I’m so sorry,” she says again. “I can’t even imagine what that must’ve felt like.”
“I don’t feel much about it anymore.”
It’s true. My heart feels like stone now. I don’t get emotional—not angry, not upset, not frustrated. If anything, there’s just a deep sense of loss. Disappointment, maybe, and sadness for Charli. She’s the one who loses most in this situation.
“It’s not your fault,” Jocelyn says. “You tried the best you could; you gave an incredible effort. Love, relationships, families—all of those are a two-way street. Group efforts.”
“Maybe if I’d done something differently, or been more of the flashy hockey star she thought she’d fallen for—maybe she wouldn’t have left.”
“But that’s not you.” Jocelyn’s tone is fierce, defensive. “Relationships are about compromise, sure, but not about changing who you are. Plus, you had a beautiful baby girl—naturally some of the glamour and parties and everything else would take a backseat to her. At least for awhile.”
“I never did the parties. I went a few times, and that’s where we met. I’m afraid she had a distorted idea of what my life looked like, and she couldn’t get out until it was too late.”
“Not too late.” Her voice is still quiet, but determined. “Charli is perfect. Whatever happened between you and Lauren, a very good thing—a very incredible little girl—came from it. That’s hard to regret.”
The fact that Jocelyn understands, that she would care enough to put herself in my shoes and understand means everything to me. Another woman might’ve been petty, or badmouthed Lauren—it would be easy enough to default to name calling. Not Jocelyn. All I can do is squeeze her hand.
“You’re wonderful at doing it all, you know,” she says, leaning her head against me. “I know I’m just the outsider here, but what you have in the Boxer household is so, so special. Don’t think for a minute that the two of you aren’t a whole family. In my mind, you already achieved your goal.”
I bring her to me, my lips pressing a long kiss against her forehead. I stroke her hair as the breeze whips around us, the salt thick in the strands of her hair. She smells fresh and wonderful, and in this moment, I’m happy. We fit together, and it all makes sense.
If only I can make her see it, too.
“Why did you say you wouldn’t be good for me long—”
“Because of everything you just said.” She interrupts me before I can continue speaking. “You have a beautiful family already, Boxer. You don’t need me to be a part of it to be complete. I’ve made certain choices in life that put my priorities in different places than yours.”
“Like what, work?”
“It’s my life,” she says. “I live it, breathe it.”
“Not yesterday, not today.”
“Excuse me?”
I let my arm slide around her shoulders. I’m not willing to let her run away from this conversation—mentally, physically, or emotionally. We’re here, and we’re going to hash things out.
I don’t believe she has to choose between a life, a career, and a family. I have it. It might not be perfect, but it’s wonderful. She can have it too, and that’s what I need to make her understand.
“You didn’t look at your phone,” I tell her. “It was on the counter all day. I saw it. Did the world crash and burn without you?”
“I don’t know if the world is still alive, since I haven’t checked my phone.”
“I’ll tell you, the world survived. Even if you have missed messages, guess what? You can check them on Monday.”
“But—”
“Your clients can wait. We have lives, too. We understand. And anyone who doesn’t shouldn’t deserve your time anyway.”
“Fine, but that was for one day,” she says. “And besides, more importantly, I’m not mother material. Have you heard what people call me?”
“I have,” I say softly. “But they’re wrong. They call you cold because they’re intimidated. Women call you certain names because you’re gorgeous and determined. Men call you other names because you are intelligent and beautiful and, frankly, it’s enough to make an insecure man wet his pants to find himself in a meeting with you.”
This eeks a tiny smile from her lips.
I shake my head. “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met. You’re also the most determined and the most intelligent, and you can do whatever you want to, Joss. If you want to change the world, you can do it. If you want a family, you’ll have the best family. You’re an incredible person.”
She blinks, and it looks suspiciously like the verge of crying. To diffuse the moment, I pull her fully onto my lap so she’s cradled there, her head on my chest as I wrap her into a firm embrace.
The wind continues to simmer over us, the waves churning beneath. The world continues to spin, yet we sit, perfectly still, for what feels like an eternity.
“I don’t understand family,” she whispers. “It’s been a long time.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My parents died when I was seven,” she says. “We had a family, and everything was perfect. Then it was ripped away, and now I’m alone. I don’t want children, Boxer, because I can’t ever do that to them.”
My heart breaks. Hearing her thin words chiming against the wind, the shudder of her chest as she sinks against my body, malleable and completely exposed in my arms. I hover around her, determined to protect her not only from the elements, but from whatever she’s been fighting alone all of these years.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper into her hair. “I’m so sorry about everything.”
“It’s okay, really.” She doesn’t sound as if she’s crying, but my shirt is stained wet, and when I steal a glance at her face, her cheeks shine with emotion. “It was a long time ago.”
“What happened after?”
“A few foster homes until I was old enough to take care of myself,” she says, a wry smile turning her lips upward. “Believe me, I learned quickly.”
The names she’s been called in locker rooms return to me, and my blood is boiling underneath the surface. I’m trying to stay calm for her benefit, but my arms are shaking. To mask the tremors, I pull her closer, so tight we can hardly breathe, but she doesn’t resist.
I might’ve been guilty for wondering about her before, in the past. One can’t help but wonder—almost admire—a woman so successful in a wildly male-dominated industry. But I’m ashamed that anyone could judge her success with names that have scarred her so deeply.
“I’ve been alone for so long, it’s just easier that way,” she says. “I’m not good with kids—I don’t spend much time around them, and I don’t want to subject my own to what I’ve been through.”
“What if things were different?”
She blinks. “Things aren’t different. I don’t survive on dreams; I survive on hard work and reality.”
“Jocelyn, you have so much to give. I watched you with Charli all weekend, and she adores you,” I tell her. “I’m not saying you have to have kids—that’s your choice, obviously. But if you want them, don’t be afraid of something that might never happen. It’s horrible what happened to your parents, but you can’t let it prevent you from living your own life.”
She forces a smile.
“I’m not just saying that.” I hold her shoulders, pulling her far enough back so that we can mak
e eye contact. “If you were married, settled into a little family, would you want children?”
She bites her lip. “I haven’t thought much about it. I just assumed I’d be horrible at raising them.”
“Well, you’re not. You wouldn’t be. You made the newest six-year-old very happy yesterday. I think you’d make an incredible mother.”
I’m not sure what has me so convinced, or why I’m so determined to change her mind on the matter. It’s a feeling. I just know, the same way I know that Jocelyn Jones is full of love. She so clearly has enough of it to spill over into the world, to a family, to a child of her own. It’s heart wrenching to realize that she can’t see it.
My fury melts at the sound of her gasp for air, the way she twists around, turning her face away from me and struggling for breath. A tear falls onto my knee, the first of many, and I can feel her shoulders shaking as she tries to stifle the sound.
“It’s okay, honey,” I murmur, moving my hand over her back in quiet circles. “You’re allowed to cry.”
“I h-hate to cry.”
“But out here, nobody can hear you. Let it out.”
She hiccups, her arms wrapped around her own body as I continue to hold her. She’s faced away from me, staring out to sea, the sound of the waves swallowing her ragged breaths. We’re alone, completely alone, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
She mumbles something, and I lean in closer to hear.
“You can,” she says again in an echo. “You can hear me.”
“Yeah, but I’m just me. Who cares what I think?”
Then, in a voice barely audible, she whispers. “I do.”
“You shouldn’t.”
She turns back around to face me.
“Why shouldn’t I care?”
“Because I’m a human, you’re a human, we’re all just humans. What do you care what other people think?” I run a hand through her hair. “We’re all here just doing our best. So long as we’re not hurting anyone, what’s the problem?”
“I never cry. Not in front of players, coworkers, business partners, at least. It’s a weakness.”
“So what?”
“It’s a weakness! I don’t show signs of weakness in my job. I can’t.”
“You’re not weak, Joss. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.” I lean in close and brush a kiss on one cheek, then the other. If only I could kiss away the pain and hurt that caused those tears to fall. She’s stopped crying, but salt is still dusted on her cheeks. “Even the strongest ones cry.”
“Do you?”
“I have.”
“You’re strong, you know.” She squeezes her arms tight around me. “You’re so strong. You’re perfect.”
I’m touched, but it’s not true. “I’m far from perfect.”
“No. You know exactly what you want, and you know how to get it. You know what’s right and what’s wrong, and you never doubt yourself.” She shifts over to sit next to me, her hand resting on my leg. “I don’t know any of those things.”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“I don’t know how to get what I want.”
“What are you talking about? When we talked about contracts—”
“I’m not talking about business,” I say, sharper than intended. I wait until her eyes meet mine, and then I hold onto her gaze a second longer. I need the weight of my words to mean something to her. “I want you, and I’m not sure how to get you.”
“You want me? But you just said you wanted to wait.”
“I don’t want you for the night, for the day, for the week,” I tell her, the words coming from somewhere deep within me, somewhere so sure I have no doubts they’re true. “I have a feeling that if we begin something, it won’t ever end.”
“How can you know that?”
“It’s a gut feeling.” I run a hand through my hair and expel a sigh. “But that’s what worries me, Joss. If it were just me, I’d have taken you to bed weeks ago and worked out the details later—but it’s not that simple anymore. I have to consider Charli, and if I give my heart to you, and she opens hers... it’s a risk. It’s a risk I’m more than willing to take, but I won’t go into it if you’ve no intention of giving us a real chance.”
“A real chance.”
“I’m not asking for marriage. If you don’t fall in love with me, if things don’t work out, so be it.”
“But if they do—”
“If you fall so madly in love with me that you can’t be without me, without us,” I tell her. “Then I need to know you’ll marry me. That you’ll be open to it. Because if you come to bed with me, if you tell me you want to make this work, there’s a very real chance we’ll become a family of three. It’s a lot to ask, I know.”
“No.” She looks up through eyes brightened by tears. “You have a great family, and anyone would be lucky to join it.”
“What do you think about New York?” I ask her. “Two months. Time to get to know each other, to see how things play out. No pressure. You get bored of me before then, and no hard feelings.”
“What about...” She hesitates. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to turn this to business, but I need to know where we stand on all fronts.”
“Let’s see how it plays out,” I say. “Two months, and then we’ll make a decision. About us, about business, and we can go from there.”
“Should I continue to try and win you over?”
I laugh, her lips quirking up in a smile. “Why don’t you relax? Let me woo you.”
Chapter 30
Jocelyn
I don’t know where Landon Boxer learned to woo a woman, but he does a fine job of it. In fact, over the next few weeks, he wooed me as if it were his one and only job.
First came a picnic lunch at the park, Charli running about like a madwoman, the day filled with sweet strawberries and laughter and freshly cut grass.
The second date was nothing more than a quick afternoon walk to grab coffee across the street from my office. Boxer came fresh from practice, and I snuck out between meetings. It was the best cappuccino I’d ever had, though I wondered if the company didn’t have something to do with it. That was just the first week.
The second week consisted of more of the same, plus an additional night out watching Boxer play. The LA Lightning looked to be going far this year, and with playoffs approaching quickly, there was a noticeable lift in both optimism and tension in the air.
While their record spoke for itself, mistakes could be made and the team could choke. Boxer’s schedule would most certainly be crazed until one of two things happened: his team was eliminated from the playoffs, or they won the Cup.
Weeks three and four grew in intensity, each date more special, more tantalizing than the last. True to form, we never progressed more than a steamy make out session, but by now, we were both feeling the tension looming over our heads. Everywhere we went, it followed. All at once, it was both promising and hellish, but we stuck to our plan.
Week five was torture. I wasn’t able to see him at all due to travel on his side. Week six brought slushies all around and a trip to the movie theater for a Disney flick.
Week seven was another travel week for Boxer, which led us to the edge of week eight, our final week before New York.
Specifically, Friday. We leave a week from tomorrow.
“Seven days!?” Lindsay calls the second I step foot into the office the morning before the weekend begins. She’s made one of those countdown chains like children make in school before Christmas. She tears a ring off every time I step into the room and tosses it into the air. Then she picks it up off the floor just as quickly because she’s too nice to leave it for the janitor. “Diana called again. She wanted to know if you had an update on Boxer yet.”
“Freaking Diana,” I tell her. “I am never available for an interview. Can you tell her to shove off? You know, in nicer terms. Like you always do.”
“I’ve told her you hate interviews.”
“Well, tell her again. I never do interviews.”
“You got it, boss. Anyway, how are you feeling about my chain?” She waves it back and forth. “Pretty exciting, huh?”
I wave her off, but it’s half-hearted. I don’t mind that she’s almost as invested in this countdown as I am—it’s fun. We’re like giddy kids, rushing into the office every day to put our heads together and whisper, gossip, theorize about boys. Her relationship with Mark Greggs is taking off, and my relationship with Boxer is—if nothing else—keeping me on my toes.
We’ve been taking things slow as promised, with only scorching kisses to tide us over these last two months. Though he and I haven’t explicitly talked about New York, it’s fairly clear what we’re both expecting to happen there.
And I can’t wait.
“So...” she says with a dramatic flourish. “What’s on the agenda for this week? Chocolate dipped strawberries? Sharing a romantic ice cream cone? A little stroll through the park?”
I spin and move into my office—excitement might be rampant in the air, but there’s still work to be done. “It’s a surprise. He hasn’t told me where he’s taking me!”
“Surely you have a guess!?”
“Did you cancel my meeting this morning?” I call through our open doors. “My calendar is open.”
“I didn’t cancel it, Andrea cancelled it. Luke’s assistant. She said they’ll reschedule later, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
I tap my pen against the desk. I had a day booked solid with meetings, and I had been looking forward to the full schedule. A day driven by work left me no time to think about my status with Boxer, and that’s exactly what I need. After all, we left off our last date with him saying he’d call me, and I have yet to hear from him.
Not that I’m counting, but it’s been exactly four days and twelve hours since that promise was made, and I haven’t heard a peep.