She forced the negative thoughts away. It could be different for them. It would be. She trusted in him. Trusted in what they had.
The door opened and she sat up, blinking away the emotions.
The look on the doctor’s face told her the news wasn’t what she’d been hoping for.
“I’m not pregnant, am I?”
“I’m sorry, Olivia. We ran the tests three times. The level of hCG was high in your sample, which was what triggered the positive reading on the home tests. I was a little concerned when they read positive so soon in your cycle.”
She nodded. Not pregnant. The in vitro attempt had failed.
The doctor handed her a tissue before she felt the wetness on her cheeks. She took it silently and wiped the tears away, then she sat up straighter. “Okay, well, what’s next?”
“We have to wait at least two months to try again. Give the body more time on the hormone injections, and then we can use the eggs from the last extraction, so it’s one less step in the process.”
One less step in the process, but waiting two months seemed like forever. Having her hopes lifted only to have them crash made it difficult to be patient. And the idea that in two months, she’d have to go through this again…She knew for sure she wouldn’t be taking a home pregnancy test early next time. Better to wait to hear it from Dr. Chelsey. “What if it doesn’t work again?” She hated to let the negative thought slip past her lips, but there was the possibility of another failed attempt.
“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it,” the doctor said, touching her hand.
Leaving the clinic twenty minutes later, she wasn’t sure how she felt. She’d been nervous, but so excited about the baby, and now she was disappointed and conflicted. But not as much as she would have thought. Being with Ben gave her another option—one she’d given up hope on. He’d wanted to be there for her and the child she’d thought she was carrying. Would he want to have one with her? She released a sigh. It was far too early in the relationship to be thinking about that, but…
Everything will be fine.
Maybe Ben was right. In fact, maybe this was for the best. Things were going great between them, there was no reason to think that she couldn’t have the family she wanted—a different way. She’d been ready and willing to do it alone, but that was before Ben. Before she’d fallen in love.
Feeling a little better, she drove to her office, arriving just in time for her first appointment that afternoon. “Hi, Madison. Just give me a minute and then send Mrs. Dawar in, please.”
“Okay…” Madison said, looking concerned. “You’re coffee is on your desk…along with something I think you should see,” she said, a sympathetic expression on her face.
Olivia’s heart fell to her stomach as she went inside her office. Next to her coffee sat a copy of that day’s Entertainment Digest—the daily celebrity gossip rag. Picking it up, her hand trembled slightly as she saw a picture of Ben taken the night before, carrying a beautiful blond woman to his Hummer in the stadium parking lot.
Her stomach turned, and she couldn’t blame the urge to throw up on morning sickness.
NHL’S PLAYBOY BACK IN THE GAME.
Inside were several other shots of Ben, images of him with different women—one at a basketball game, another kissing at a night club, and another getting yogurt at a Menchie’s. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it refused to budge.
She’d been a fool. She stared at the pictures of Ben and the string of beautiful women, her eyes filling with tears when she glanced back at the one on the cover. This was why he’d been late. He’d lied to her…about everything. And she’d fallen for every word.
* * *
Two days of unanswered calls and texts were driving him crazy. In his gut, Ben knew Olivia had seen that ill-timed paparazzi shot, but she needed to give him a chance to explain. Being in Boston for game six had left him at the mercy of her answering machine, and the stress of not being able to reach her had completely thrown him off his game. The team had lost four to one, but the only thing on his mind was getting back to Colorado. Back to Olivia.
Being the victim of a paparazzi incident herself, he hoped she would understand a picture often told a different story. Though it certainly hadn’t been the case for them. That photo had captured what was happening between them perfectly.
Or what had been happening.
He needed to talk to her. He had to explain the photo of him and Brittany, but most of all he needed to hear her voice, see her smile, hold her…If he thought his obsession had driven him crazy before, it was nothing compared to the longing and unease not hearing from her had evoked. He knew the feelings he had for her were torturously real, and he feared the walls around his heart had shattered. He’d let her in. And he was terrified, but he was willing to fight for a chance with her, if she’d have him.
Pressing the buzzer on her apartment building ten minutes later, the door clicked immediately.
Was she expecting someone else?
The thought spiraled into an out-of-control mess until his anxiety had him fuming by the time he reached her door. Was that the reason she was ignoring him? She was seeing someone else?
Being the recipient of his own customary behavior made him nauseous.
He knocked and placed his hands on his hips. Then he folded his arms across his chest. Then let them drop to his sides as he paced in front of the door.
“Coming,” she said from the other side.
When she swung it open, her look of surprise was like looking in a mirror.
If she were in fact expecting a date, she hadn’t gone out of her way to get ready: Winnie-the-Pooh PJ pants and a yellow tank top, her hair piled high on her head. “Ben?”
“Expecting someone else?” he asked, though the edge in his voice wasn’t there.
“Chinese food delivery,” she said, blocking his entrance. “What are you doing here?” Her attempt to hide herself behind the door failed, and the sight of her nipples poking through the thin fabric of the shirt made his dick and annoyance rise simultaneously.
“You were going to answer the door to a strange delivery person like that?” He gestured to her chest.
“What? As if Gino cares if I’m in pajamas,” she said.
“That’s not what I was referring to.” She knew the delivery guy by name. A pang of jealousy hit him. “Can I come in?”
“I don’t think that’s such a great idea.”
“You’ve been avoiding me for days, and we need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. The picture in Entertainment Digest was pretty loud and clear.”
“That picture was bullshit. Nothing happened between Brittany and me.” She tried to close the door again, but he held it open. “She hurt her ankle and needed a ride home.”
“Adding knight in shining armor to your resume now?”
He released a deep breath. Damn, why hadn’t he just called Brittany a cab? Even though the situation was exactly the way he said it was, what credibility did he have when his past was full of paparazzi shots like that one? Olivia had every right not to believe him, and for the first time, he was desperate to prove his innocence. “I just wanted to drop her off and get home to you that night.”
“Why didn’t you tell me the reason you were running late?”
The hurt in her voice killed him. He ran a hand through his hair. “I should have. You’re right. I guess I just didn’t think you’d trust me.”
“I don’t.”
The words were a shot to his stomach. “Really? Still? Haven’t I proved myself? Proved that I’ve changed?”
She looked away.
“Olivia, I wouldn’t lie to you. She hurt her ankle and needed a ride.” He would only say it once more. If she still chose to believe the image in the magazine, it was out of his control. She would always choose to believe the image in the magazine, and a relationship would be doomed from the start.
She sighed. “Okay. Is that all?
”
Not even close. “Please, Olivia.” He didn’t recognize the pleading in his own voice. He needed another chance, and he wasn’t about to let his pride get in the way of asking for one.
Her expression was full of hurt and disappointment when her gaze met his. “Ben, we both know this won’t work. Your career is practically designed for you to be unfaithful, and I’m not interested in being another woman on the list of women who were dumb enough to think they could be the one to get you to settle down.”
“Please, just trust in me. Trust in what we have.” She couldn’t honestly believe that everything between them had been fake. That it had all just been an act. She knew him better than that. She knew him.
Her internal struggle was evident in her eyes. “You should go now,” she said, tears in her voice.
The sound broke his heart. “So, that’s it for us then?”
Folding her arms across her chest, she nodded. “There was never an us, Ben.”
He took a step toward her. “I disagree. For the first time in my life I’ve been terrified. Completely and utterly terrified. Terrified of how I was starting to feel for you, but worse, terrified that those feelings wouldn’t fade.”
She couldn’t mask the hurt that reflected in her eyes. “See, you never intended for this to get serious.”
He took her hands. “You’re right. I didn’t. And I won’t lie about that. But it did get serious. And what scares me most is that I feel like I’m losing you, and I’m too far gone to save myself from the heartache waiting outside that door if you push me away right now.”
She swallowed hard.
“Olivia, please.” Begging was a foreign concept to him. He hadn’t even tried to convince Janelle not to walk away, to give their life together a chance. But no one, not even the woman he had believed was the love of his life, had ever come close to being worth the effort, the sacrifice, the setting aside of his pride.
Olivia looked away.
He knew why. Staring into his eyes made it difficult to think, to breathe, to say the word go. He knew because he’d never find the strength to walk away while looking into hers.
“I need you to leave, Ben,” she whispered.
In that moment, he felt the ground beneath him start to give way and emotions threatened to tear him apart. He couldn’t argue with her anymore even if he wanted to—the pain and disappointment already too much for his once unbreakable heart.
He released her hands and opened her apartment door. “Bye, Olivia,” he managed to say before walking out.
Chapter 23
Carrying what felt like the millionth box of baby clothes from the back of his brother’s truck to the shop, Ben’s entire body ached. The hit he took in the game the other night resonated everywhere. Tomorrow was game seven in the series—the Stanley Cup finals game—and yet here he was in Glenwood Falls, carrying boxes of new clothing into his sister’s store.
“Over there, please.” Becky pointed to the far right of the store, where Jackson was hanging shelves on the wall.
“You know you could hire people to do this shit for you, right?” He knew it had been a mistake to let his family know he was at the lake house on his day off—his recovery day. He’d been craving a quiet place to regroup, to mentally prepare for the game of his career. This was not what he’d had in mind.
“Well, once my shop starts bringing in money, I’ll consider that option. For now I have my little brother minions,” Becky said with a laugh.
“This does not constitute an emergency by the way,” Asher grumbled, moving past them into the back room.
Becky rolled her eyes. “Come on! You were finished playing for the season already—quit complaining.” She turned to Ben and pointed a finger at him. “And you should be thanking me.”
“Do explain.” He set the boxes in the back storage room and wiped sweat from his head with his forearm.
“You have a crazy important game to win tomorrow night. The pressure you’re feeling must be huge—monumental, even.” She reached above her head and grabbed several of the tiniest shoe boxes he’d ever seen.
It reminded him of Olivia and the tiny shoes she’d be needing. Being in the shop was annoying for several reasons—the biggest was the constant reminder that the woman he was falling in love with was having a baby, and she was pushing him away when all he wanted was to be there for her. With her.
“I mean this game could make you a legend around here…”
“Becky!”
“Okay, okay. The point is, I’m helping you relax your mind with physical labor.” She shrugged, handing him an armful of baby girl dresses.
“What the hell do you think playing hockey is—meditation?” He followed her to the front of the store. “Where do you want these?” he asked with a sigh. He was there now. There was no getting out of helping her. The faster he could get this done, the faster he could be alone at the lake house…where another reminder of Olivia would haunt and torment his thoughts. God, he hoped the smell of her perfume had faded from his couch cushions faster than she was fading from his heart.
“They need to be hung up on that rolling rack near the window,” she said, pointing the way.
She followed him with an armful of hangers—tiny pink ones. He wondered if Olivia knew they made hangers this small. He absently reached for the dress on top, but Becky snatched it away.
“Not that one. I’m holding it for someone,” she said.
That look on her face was suspicious. His eyes narrowed. “Who?”
“Baby Chic client confidentiality.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“Yes, it is.”
He reached for the dress again. Olivia had mentioned she’d been in Becky’s store, and his sister was about as good at keeping things from him as she was at doing her own freaking work. “Olivia wants this dress?” He touched the sunflower in the center of the soft fabric. So tiny. He’d never believe a real human baby could fit inside had he not seen it firsthand with two nieces. In eight months, the woman he loved would have a tiny little human…Alone. And he wouldn’t be there for her. Because she didn’t want him to be.
He was a complete asshole. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t warned him. Told him about the process, begged him to stay away, to not hurt her by pretending this was something he could handle, warning him that this was something she intended to do alone…
Damn. He should have listened.
“Ben!” his sister shouted.
“What?”
“I said you could give it to her. I mean, if in fact the dress is being held for her,” she added quickly.
Could he? He already had the tiny jersey hung in his locker at the stadium—he’d forgotten to give it to her the night he’d bought it, and it was currently serving as another form of torture. He didn’t need any more. He shook his head, setting the dress aside. “No. And you really suck at client confidentiality,” he said, before abandoning his post and heading out of the store.
He was heartbroken, and he had the game of his career in less than twenty-four hours. His family would have to forgive him just this once.
* * *
The television paused on the hockey game taunted her from the living room as Olivia prepared a salad for dinner. She took a sip of wine and sighed.
Just because she couldn’t be with Ben didn’t mean she couldn’t watch the game. She could be a hockey fan if she wanted to. The series between the two teams had been electric, and it was all down to this final game. She wasn’t sure she could watch.
Knowing how much this win meant to Ben made her heart race. She wondered if things between them ending the way they did would affect him? Affect his game? Would she be to blame if he choked a third time in the NHL playoffs?
She could watch it. She could be just an impartial fan hoping for a win, right?
God, she was completely delusional.
Going into the living room, she hit Play on the remote and tucked her legs beneath her as the game st
arted.
Ben Westmore—MVP of the NHL and holder of her heart—had a big job to do. She hoped he could pull off the win.
Tears blurred her vision as she watched. She missed him. Missed the feeling of home he’d given her. Everything she’d always wanted had been within reach. Would she ever have that again?
* * *
The puck left the blade of his stick with a purpose, a destination heading straight for its target. Ben held his breath along with all of the Colorado Avalanche fans in the packed stadium now on their feet.
A pin drop could be heard as time stood still. The only person moving on or off the ice was the Boston goalie as his body shifted left and right, trying to determine where the puck would go.
Like watching a slow-motion film, Ben could see every inch the puck traveled through the air, the looks of determination and then the oh-shit expressions forming on the opposing players’ faces. His skates pushed forward, following the puck toward the win.
He saw the goalie’s body leave the ice as he lunged to block the shot heading straight toward the top left corner of the net.
Three seconds ticked away on the clock, three lifetimes…Ben waited to see if he’d just scored the winning goal for the Stanley Cup in the first overtime shoot-out.
The buzzer sounded and the green light illuminated behind the net. His legs gave way as a deafening roar filled the stadium. His teammates dog-piled him a second later, whooping and hollering, gloves and sticks flying into the air, helmets being tossed onto the ice.
They’d won.
He’d led his team to a victory. Scoring four of the five goals, there was no question in his mind that he’d done what he’d set out to do—dominate and win and make sure he let no one down—especially himself.
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