Center of Gravity: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (An Ice Tigers Hockey Romance Book 2)

by Isabella Cassazza

  “Great effort, everyone. But it’s time to get to know each other better. Put your hands on the earlobes of the people right next to you. Let’s dance again.”

  I place my hand on Emilia’s earlobe, feeling the silky texture under my calloused fingers. Our eyes meet for a split second before she looks down at her feet.

  The girl next to me is so short she has problems reaching my ear, and I have to bend down on one side for her to reach it, which complicates my balance issue even more when the next round of sirtaki starts.

  But we’re not done yet—the torture level is about to hit another high. Touching each other’s earlobes is innocent, but the game has bigger challenges in store for us. Next, we’re instructed to touch our backs, and after that we’re supposed to touch each other’s butts. Fuck. What do I do now?

  I wait for the ladies at my sides to make their choice, and since neither grope my ass but leave their hands an inch above, neither do I. I give the guy next to Emilia a stern look, and his hand stops before it can descend too far. You better not dare, you fucker, I try to communicate with my eyes, while still trying to crisscross my legs. I’m sweating buckets at this point and would kill for a glass of water.

  Distracting myself from Emilia, I look straight ahead at Michael across the room, and at the warm smile he’s just received from Lily. Well, I have to give him that, even our man-whore respects her relationship with Tyler. She’s his, and no one wants to get between them.

  After two more circles, with or without our hands on the ass of the person right next to us, the mic guy takes pity on us and tells us to find a partner for a more romantic moment.

  Before anyone else can, I grab Emilia at the waist and pull her into a tight embrace without giving her a chance to push me away. The light is dimmed, and the band plays Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” I’m not much of a dancer, but I sway us around in a small circle to the slow beat of the music.

  We don’t talk. We don’t even make eye contact once, but her body melts into mine, and her abdomen presses into me, allowing me the first connection with my unborn child. I close my eyes to hide the tears.

  Fuck, I’ve had too much to drink.

  Get it together, Walker. Concentrate on something else. Like… Emilia’s silky skin. Her warmth….

  How can three minutes seem like an hour and at the same time not nearly long enough? I forget the people around me and our messed-up situation. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but holding her in my arms feels right… and wrong at the same time.

  When the music ends, I release her. She takes a step back. “I… I need some air.” She pushes away from me, leaving not only my arms empty.

  Following her example, I flee the dance floor before anyone can approach me for the next dance. I head to the bathroom where I splash water on my face and hide in one of the stalls. My heart rate is elevated, and I’m having trouble breathing. How the hell is this thing between us going to work? Tyler and Lily already suspect something is going on between Emilia and me; it won’t be long before they confront me. Did they see us dance with each other or were they too wrapped up in one another? Did anyone else witness our moment? Was it even a moment?

  How can I face Emilia every day at the training facility? Will she leave once the baby is born? Will I even see my child grow up? I need to talk to her, that much is clear, but my linemate’s wedding isn’t the right place.

  My head is spinning—and not only from the wine and vodka. Fuck, I shouldn’t have danced with her. But I did, and now I remember how it feels to hold her. How it feels to touch her. How perfect her body fits mine. But she isn’t for me. I won’t allow it. I can’t.

  I sigh and rub my temples. I have no idea how long I’ve been inside the bathroom, and the last thing I need is Tyler searching for me, so I get out of my hiding place and splash more water on my face, but the situation doesn’t magically change just because my dress shirt is now soaked. I shake my head, refusing to look in the mirror, and head back to the ballroom.

  But before I can sit down again, we’re told to head to the garden. Outside, my gaze finds Emilia in the crowd. Her face is illuminated when fireworks erupt in the night sky around us. She has the same longing look on her face as during the first dance, but this time it doesn’t disappear. Her hand wanders to her belly, and for a split second it rests there as if to protect the tiny life inside, but then she takes her hand away, making it appear as if she was brushing away unwanted fluff. When the fireworks are over, I lose her in the crowd again.

  Inside, we’re served the next round of food. Then the dancing continues. With Lily, Tyler, and Danny joining the next dancing game, I’m left alone at the table. I search the room for Emilia but can’t find her. Great, sitting all by myself during a wedding is the last thing I want to do. A bunch of my teammates are gathered at the bar, so I push my chair back to join them.

  Walking over to the bar, I make eye contact with a brunette. She’s wearing a tight yellow dress that enhances her curvy figure. She sure as hell is attractive, and judging from her smoldering look in my direction, she doesn’t think I’m too shabby either. If I wanted to, I could have a warm body next to mine tonight. Someone to lose myself inside. But it doesn’t feel right to approach her. The last time I allowed my body’s urges to take over, I got Emilia pregnant, and I don’t want to be the asshole flaunting a conquest in front of her. Hooking up with another woman would make an already complicated situation even more complicated.

  I ignore the brunette and join Peter at the bar. His cheeks are red, undoubtedly from a considerable amount of vodka, but unlike me, he is a happy drunk, telling the worst jokes and laughing about them as if they’re super funny, which they’re not, but I can’t recall a single one, since my attention is elsewhere. Emilia is back on the dance floor—in Danny’s arms. Dancing with him next to Tyler and Lily. I clench my teeth. Unlike me, she doesn’t seem to have inhibitions about flirting with someone else right under my nose. I can’t blame her; Danny’s a great guy and they make a striking couple. He’s twirling her around, making her laugh out loud and pulling her back into a tight embrace.

  My eyes find the brunette again, and for a split second, I contemplate approaching her, but I’m still sober enough to figure out that compensating one mistake with another is not going to help me. Emilia can do whatever she wants, but I don’t have to follow her example. Even though she did deny it, she’s had a new man at her side nearly every week this summer, and apparently, she’ll continue with exchanging men like bedsheets, with no regard for me or our unborn baby. With one last glance in Emilia’s direction, I leave the party and step into the crisp night air, bitter tasting bile in my throat and the renewed vow to never trust a woman again.

  Chapter 8

  Emilia

  “The doctor will be with you right away.” The nurse closes the door behind her, leaving me alone in the room. Trying to calm my heartbeat, I take a deep breath. Earlier, I had my blood drawn, which made me nearly pass out, and I had to leave a urine sample, which I don’t consider my favorite thing to do in the world either, but now the most crucial part of today’s appointment is about to begin. At this stage of pregnancy, the ultrasound will be an internal one. Thank God Matt is in training camp. Having a dildo-like wand inserted inside me isn’t a pleasant thing, but having the father of my child watch the whole undignified procedure would multiply my discomfort times ten.

  We’ve run into each other a couple times at the training facility since the wedding—where he left me again without saying goodbye—but we haven’t talked to each other. I’m not only angry that he left without a word, but also that I didn’t have anyone to drink the wine for me, forcing me to go when I didn’t want to leave the party. I had fun. A lot of fun, even though I might have been the only sober person. But everyone was happy and celebrating love, and it was a magical experience. I can only hope my own wedding—if there ever is to be one—will be half as joyful an event as the one Wioletta and Smithy celebrat
ed.

  I’m grateful Matt saved me and drank the wine for me, but leaving me again after the moment we shared on the dance floor…. Didn’t he feel the connection between us? The chemistry? The invisible strings that draw us together? I felt his gaze upon me for most of the evening. Why watch me all the time if he isn’t interested in me? He’s the most confusing man I’ve ever met, and I don’t know what to make of him.

  I sigh. For the first time since my arrival, I have some room to breathe. The team left this morning for training camp, and I worked through emails and phone calls without being interrupted. The team is fantastic, but once I’m in the office, I have people knocking on my door nonstop, wanting to address a problem that can’t wait or with a solution to a problem previously addressed that I need to know about this instant. I love that the staff is so committed, and I appreciate their motivation, but I also have to concentrate on the upcoming photo shoots. Nevertheless, I want to keep my open-door policy; it’s what I offered in the beginning, and I’m glad they’re using the opportunity to improve processes and work more efficiently.

  To my surprise, my grandfather has left me alone so far. For the first time, I’m in charge, and it’s going better than expected. It helps that everyone in the organization wants the Ice Tigers to succeed and that for the first time I care about a project, not only on a business level but also on a personal one. I can’t remember the last time I was looking forward to an event as much as opening night.

  The preparations for the first game have been going well. Each player will be driven to the arena and walk a short red carpet through the fans wearing a custom-made Ravelli suit. For that purpose, even the players that won’t make the team have been given one, since the time between the end of training camp and opening night wouldn’t have been long enough to finish just the selected players’ suits. After training camp, the players on the roster will choose nine suits in addition to the one they’ve already received.

  Together with Gianluca, I’ve decided to align the launch of RAVELLIS with the season opener. The team’s pre-ice warm-up will be livestreamed on the Ice Tigers’ social media channels, and players will be wearing selected items of the collection just when the online shops go live. I’m still working to convince Gianluca and my grandfather of my online marketing strategies and waiting for them to approve my idea for the first RAVELLIS shoot.

  A man in his fifties enters the room, interrupting my thoughts. “Ms. Ravelli, nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Peters.”

  “Nice to meet you, Dr. Peters.” We shake hands.

  He smiles at me and takes my chart, flipping through it. “So, we have your medical history and blood and urine samples. Perfect. Let’s see if we can find your baby.” He turns around, preparing the wand for the ultrasound. “Quite a lot you’ve got going on in your life. New city, new job. A baby.”

  Someone has read one of the articles about me, appearing in several Boston Newspapers. To my surprise, their tenor was positive for the better part. Fans and media have high expectations of the Ravelli Group’s engagement with the Ice Tigers, and the overall tone in the media was a welcoming one. I had expected to be portrayed as a socialite, but somehow, at least in the sports sections, the emphasis has been on business. For the first time, my master’s degree in international business is more important than my supposed involvements with Italian sports and movie stars. Some gossip blogs are displaying those as well, but I’m not complaining. I’ve never cared about what they write about me anyway.

  As long as the sports channels only report about my studies, about my father being a former hockey player, and my supposed knowledge in sports management and in hockey, I’m fine. On the downside, they give me way too much credit. If only I had some experience in these fields. But I’m not shying away from the challenge ahead. It’s a steep learning curve for me, but with Rob’s help and the team willing to give it their all, we’ll make it work.

  “It’s a lot, but I believe in the team.”

  “Great to hear. I’m a big Ice Tigers fan. We’ve been season ticket holders since I can remember. The hockey season can’t begin soon enough for me. Any news on the roster yet?”

  I shrug. “That’s for our head coach to decide. He hasn’t told me which players will make the team yet either.” I have to remember to bring Dr. Peters some fan gear next time. Though bringing Matt might be enough for the good doctor to lose his mind.

  For now, he looks disappointed. “Well, we’ll know after the weekend. This is going to be cold.” He inserts the wand. I shudder—ice-cold would have been a more appropriate warning.

  “Ah, there it is.” He pushes the wand slightly to the right, making me shiver again when the cold gel hits a new spot. “See, there’s your baby, and we have a heartbeat.” He points at the tiny dot on the monitor.

  My eyes well up, and I close them for a second. Holy crap, I am pregnant. For real. My baby is real. Joy and fear fight inside me while tears stream down my cheeks.

  “If you want, you can record the heartbeat with your phone.” He hands me a tissue.

  Grateful to have something to occupy my shaking hands with other than wiping away tears, I do as told and record the sweetest sound in the world.

  While the wand is still pushed around inside me, I imagine Matt standing beside me, a warm smile on his face. Or let’s just say a smile on his face. A teeny, tiny one. He’s never smiled around me. But that sound would have to make him smile, wouldn’t it? It doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is the racing sound of my baby’s heart telling me everything is as it should be.

  The wand stops moving inside me, and thinking we’re done, I lean back again. “Ah, just like I suspected. Here we have baby number two.”

  “Baby number two?” I bolt up to get a better look at the monitor and flinch as the wand pokes me on the inside.

  “Yes. Baby number two.” He points at a second spot.

  “Two babies?” I sound like an idiot while he’s smiling broadly at me.

  “The draft class of 2038 may just have gained two additions, or one, or it could both be girls; one never knows.” He chuckles.

  “I’m having twins?” It’s not that I have never heard of that possibility, but there never have been twins in my family, at least none that I’m aware of. I don’t know about Matt’s family, though.

  “Yes, Ms. Ravelli. Two little babies for you.”

  I close my eyes. Two babies. Dio mio. Good Lord. Me and two babies. And Matt. Definitely Matt. I cannot care for two newborns alone, can I? And I don’t want a nanny. How will he react to having twins?

  “Ms. Ravelli, everything all right?” Dr. Peters pats my hand.

  “Yeah. I just realized how much I will have going on in my life once the babies are born.”

  He nods. “Becoming a parent can be overwhelming, but don’t worry; you’ll be just fine. If you like, I can recommend a few books for pregnancy and parenting.”

  “That’ll be great.” He continues with the ultrasound, and I listen to the second heartbeat, barely able to contain my tears again. Two babies. What a miracle.

  The ultrasound is followed by a pelvic exam. Again, I’m glad Matt isn’t here. And then we’re done.

  After carefully placing the ultrasound pictures in my bag and scheduling a new appointment, I leave the doctor’s office, walking on clouds. It’s crazy how much more real the pregnancy seems after listening to the heartbeats. It’s not that I didn’t know before, but now I feel pregnant, and just then, my thoughts wander back to the night the precious little lives inside me were created.

  Positano, Italy

  His brooding expression is the first thing I notice about him—the man sitting in my favorite spot on the rooftop terrace. It’s quite an achievement to accomplish a brooding expression with the beauty surrounding us. The sea is illuminated by moonlight, while the city lights bathe the houses around in a golden glow, making them appear like they’re carved of the Amalfi coast’s cliffs. Positano’s colors are beautiful in daylight
, with the blue of the sea, the multicolored houses, and the deep green of the forests plastered all over the mountains, but at night it becomes magical—a fairy-tale setting.

  He’s a tourist, no doubt about it. Spending every summer here when I was little, I learned to differentiate between locals and foreigners. With his blond hair, broad shoulders, and rugged face, he doesn’t look like a typical Italian either.

  I contemplate turning around and breaking my self-imposed tradition, but this place is dear to my heart, and I sit in this spot every night whenever I spend time at the hotel that has been owned by my family for over a hundred years. Exhaling once more, I walk the short distance across the terrace and sit down next to him.

  “Looking at the sea, your problems and everything you’re running from will magically disappear.”

  His head flies around, and our eyes meet briefly. His are moss-green, an unusual shade, like a forest in the shadows. At least that’s what I think the color is after catching only a brief glimpse in the moonlight before he looks away. I’m not sure what to do, since he chooses to ignore me, but I haven’t finished my little speech.

  “At least that’s what my nonna used to say, and since this was her favorite spot, it must be true, right? What are you running from?”

  He laughs, but it’s a bitter one. “Believe me, you don’t want to know. Enjoy the view. I better get going.” American, that’s what his accent sounds like, although it’s hard to tell with his slurred voice. Someone had a bit to drink, judging from the beer bottle in his right hand.

  “Wait.” My fingers touch the warm skin of his hand as he is about to walk away, and an electric shock runs through my body. Surprised about my own boldness, I let my hand fall again. I don’t make a habit of pulling on strangers’ arms. “Enough room for both of us. No need to run away. I can be quiet.” Our eyes meet again. He allows me a brief glimpse to catch the color a second time—definitely moss-green—before he closes them, fast, like the pain of the world weighs on his eyelids. I wish I knew what happened to him. He’s built like a Greek god, with broad shoulders and muscled arms, but his expression makes him look vulnerable.