One Last Shot: A Second Chance Sports Romance (Frozen Hearts Series Book 3)

“You fucking slept with her.” It’s not a question.

I glance up at Tom as he takes a sip of his whiskey, then toward the door to the den. It’s closed, as is Stella’s window, giving us some privacy on this terrace.

“What are you talking about?” I respond, my voice low.

“I can see it in the way you look at her with those stupid, gooey eyes. I recognize that look because I think I wore the same one every time I was around Avery after we first got together.” He tugs at his loosened tie, and I remember how he did the same thing sitting in a bar in Midtown when he first told me about him and Avery.

I just shrug, neither confirming nor denying his assessment.

“I should have realized this would happen,” he says. “It’s the inevitable wrinkle in the plan. How did I not see it coming?”

I hold back the jokes about coming that spring to my mind. “I’m not saying I slept with her,” I say, keeping my voice low so they don’t hear us from inside, “but would it be so wrong if I had?”

“Yes!” His outburst is unexpected and so is the way his palm lands on the table, making the remaining glasses rattle. “Yes, it fucking would. You’re trying to enter into a legal agreement with her, and sex screws everything up. It puts emotions into the equation, and that will mess shit up quick.”

I don’t have a response to that. There’s no question that emotions are involved, at least for me, but they always have been. I’m less certain how she’s feeling. I wanted her to tell me more last night in the solarium. I opened up about my feelings, told her I’d always wanted this kind of sexual relationship with her, and told her the things I loved about her. In response, she told me how good the sex was. It’s not like I didn’t want to hear that, but I was hoping for a bit more.

Perhaps expecting to have a meaningful conversation when I was balls deep inside her wasn’t realistic, but the words about feelings flow more naturally when we’re intimate. For me, at least. For Petra, it feels like she has one foot out the door when I want her here permanently.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Tom asks when I don’t respond.

“Do about what?”

“Are you planning on making this an actual marriage, rather than a marriage on paper only?”

The question makes my heart speed up. Is that what I want? I loved my single life. It allowed me to focus on skating, to become one of the best hockey players in the league. I made more money than I knew what to do with, there were always women around, and I had Niko and his family nearby. It was perfect. But something changed when I got Stella. She’s a type of happiness I didn’t know I wanted, and having Petra here with us has made me think, for the first time ever, about how I want a family of my own. I don’t want to just be the guardian of my niece. I want to adopt her, to be her father, and to share that responsibility with someone else. To have more kids. To have something worth coming home to.

But Petra’s already told me that’s not what she wants in life. She said she didn’t want kids, and I after watching her with Stella for the last two weeks, I don’t understand how that could be true. I don’t believe it could be true.

“I don’t think that’s what Petra wants,” I tell Tom.

“You don’t think? You haven’t even talked to her about it?”

“I told you, you don’t pressure a woman like her. She’ll come to a decision in her own time.”

“I found you an immigration attorney,” Tom says, as if this attorney can save me from myself. Before he’s even done with his statement, the door to the terrace opens. Petra steps out with Avery on her heels, and they cross over to the table in just a few steps. Petra has a bakery box in her hand with the dessert Avery and Tom brought.

“Stella is the cutest,” Avery sighs as she sits down, which I guess means bedtime went well. She looks over at me. “You’re doing a great job with her, Alex.”

“I’m trying. But for all my work over the past few months,” I say and glance over at Petra, “she’s only really seemed happy the past couple weeks, since Petra’s been here.”

Her eyes widen before her face relaxes into a serene mask. “Don’t let him fool you,” she tells Avery, “she’s amazing in her own right, and he’s doing a great job raising her. The issue of finding a nanny, aside.”

“Feels like there’s a story there,” Tom says, then takes another sip of whiskey. Petra regales him with the story of Irina, the evil Russian nanny who sounds even more like a witch when Petra retells it.

Avery alternates between laughing and looking horrified. “So, did you find someone new yet?”

“I’ve got several meetings set up this week,” I tell her. “We’re interviewing the first two tomorrow morning.”

Petra looks surprised by this information, even though I’d watched her put the meetings into the calendar on her phone when I told her all the dates and times. I realize how much she must rely on her assistant to keep her schedule straight, set up meetings for her, and so on. I wonder what it would be like to be juggling so many balls at once. Before Stella, I had two balls: hockey, and all the shit—media appearances, brand relationships, etc.—that comes with it.

Petra opens the bakery box and hands each of us a small dessert plate. We all choose something, and then Petra says to Tom, “Did I hear you say you’d found us an immigration attorney?”

Tom glances at Avery. I’m guessing he doesn’t normally discuss confidential client information with her. “It’s fine,” I tell him.

“Actually,” Avery says, “I’m going to go use the restroom.” She excuses herself and disappears through the door back into the den. I appreciate her discretion, even though I don’t mind her knowing the details of our situation. If Tom trusts her, I trust her.

“Yes,” Tom says once the door closes behind Avery. “She specializes in both immigration and adoption law. I talked to her yesterday, explained the situation to her, and she’s happy to take on your case. She said there are a few different options.” He picks up his phone and asks for Petra’s number. When he sets his phone down, both our phones buzz with a text from him containing the contact info for the lawyer.

Petra looks like she has questions, but she’s chewing on her lower lip instead of asking them. “What are you thinking?” I ask her.

She pauses a beat before responding. “I’m not willing to lie about our marriage,” she says apologetically. She turns toward Tom. “I’m not sure if you expect us to walk in there and tell her that we’ve been living together off and on like you’d suggested in your office, but I don’t want to lie. I need us to be honest with her and let her tell us the best way to proceed.”

Tom opens his mouth. “Done,” I say, the word so definitive there’s no point in him arguing with me about it. “Lying about this isn’t worth the risk. I don’t want to jeopardize my guardianship of Stella or my potential path to citizenship. Let’s trust the process.”

Tom shakes his head. “You’re in for a much longer road this way,” he tells us.

“That’s fine,” I tell him. “At least it’s not unethical.”

I notice the way his shoulders tighten at the mention of ethics. “Hey, you told me to figure out the fastest way for you to adopt Stella, and that’s what I did. You didn’t tell me to find the most ethical way.”

“I know.” And if Petra had been willing, maybe we’d be on that path. But now that I’m spending more time with her, I can’t believe I ever hoped that she’d go along with his plan. She’s a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them. “And I’m sure that was the only option for adopting her quickly. Now I guess we take the long but legal route.”

He smiles wryly at that. “If you wanted the long but legal route, you should have just said so.” He takes another sip of whiskey.

Under the table, Petra grabs my hand and squeezes. “We’re thankful for your help, Tom. We know you were just doing what was best for Aleksandr and Stella.”

He’s saved from responding by Avery’s reappearance. She sends Petra a questioning look, and Petra nods her head toward the table.

“Did I tell you I went to my first professional hockey game last night?” Petra asks Avery when she sits.

“No, but I saw you on TV.”

“Wait, what?”

“Uh . . .” Avery stumbles, like she wishes she hadn’t said anything. I remember Tom saying one of the things he found sexy about her was how adorable she was when she was flustered, and I see what he means. She gets this pale pink flush on her cheeks that blends with her freckles and she closes her eyes for a minute, which makes me realize how long her lashes are. I’m not trying to check out my friend’s girl, especially not with Petra sitting next to me and holding my hand, but I do recognize what he was telling me months ago. “When you guys were staring at each other after Alex’s goal in the third period?”

“I didn’t think about the TV coverage,” Petra says quietly, and her hand slackens in mine. In response, I hold on tighter and at least she doesn’t pull away.

“It’s typical for them to focus on the player who scored the goal and the fan’s reactions,” I say. “It’s my fault, because I should have realized that the cameras would all be on me, and then would turn to whoever I was focused on.”

“Whatever,” she shrugs and gives us a megawatt smile, the kind that I’d expect if we walked out of a restaurant to find the paparazzi waiting for us. I recognize it for what it is—her desire to move on and act like this doesn’t bother her. But we’ll be returning to this conversation later, whether she wants to or not. I’m not going to let one TV camera ruin what’s building between us here.

“So, was the game as exciting in person as it was on TV?” Avery asks.

“It was. I hadn’t watched hockey in almost fifteen years,” Petra says, and this info is new to me. But it makes sense, given that she didn’t know I was playing in New York. She would have had to be actively avoiding hockey to not know this.

“Like, hadn’t watched it even on TV?” Avery scrunches up her eyebrows, obviously wondering how Petra hadn’t ever watched the sport I play professionally.

“Yeah, I . . .” She pauses. “I was kind of anti-hockey for a while.”

“Oh,” Avery says, and even though she clearly wants to ask more questions, she glances at me and then changes the subject. “So, my friend Taryn and I are going out for drinks on Thursday night. Would you want to join us?”

“Oh,” Petra says, disappointment tinging her voice. “I’d love to, but I can’t. Aleksandr’s in Philly still, that’ll be game 5. I’ll be here watching it with Stella.”

I weigh the fact that Petra sounds like she does want to see Avery again before I open my mouth. Hopefully that wasn’t Petra trying to bow out of plans gracefully, because if so, this is going to piss her off. “You guys could always meet here. Plenty of drink options and you can watch the game together.”

“I love that idea!” Petra says. “If you want to,” she adds quickly, glancing at Avery.

“Of course I want to. That sounds perfect.”

“Great, I might invite my friend Emily too,” Petra adds.

On the promise of future plans, Tom says they need to get going. He mentions an early morning meeting, but I’m not fooled for a second because I recognize the way he’s looking at Avery. It’s exactly the way I’m looking at Petra—like I can’t wait to get her naked and on her back.

“I do have my own place in the Village, so I wouldn’t need to live here full time,” the second nanny we’re interviewing this morning says after we finish giving her the tour. So far, the interview’s gone very well. I can tell by her body language that Petra thinks this girl is the one. With the first candidate, we didn’t even bother showing her around because it was obvious we weren’t going to hire her. “I’m happy to stay here overnight whenever necessary, but I do find that it’s also good for everyone to have their own space.”

I consider what she’s saying. “That’s great,” I agree. Natasha was such a godsend those first few months Stella was with me, and I don’t think I could have done the parenting thing without her. But Stella and I are settling into a routine now and it would probably be awkward to have a nanny here when I didn’t need her. And even though what I’ll be paying her could warrant a 24/7 work schedule, I know that’s not a healthy expectation either. “I’m just at the beginning of the playoffs now, and God willing, I’ll be playing for another month or more. But then, summer should actually be much lighter in terms of how often I need you. Things will pick up dramatically when the season starts up again, but I generally have the schedule well in advance so we can see all the time I’ll need you here late for home games, or for a few days and nights when we are traveling. Depending on the schedule, sometimes we’re on the road for a week or more at a time. Will that work okay?”

She nods. “It will.”

“Discretion is critical,” Petra says. “That NDA you signed when you arrived is in place because Aleksandr is very private and Stella is still adjusting to this living situation, and it’s essential that her new normal not be upset. Can you truly handle not telling anyone—your roommates, your family—who you are nannying for?”

“I don’t have roommates or a family, and I can definitely avoid telling my friends.”

I watch the way Petra’s eyebrows knit together. “I’m not trying to pry,” she says. “But if you’re going to have such close access to this family, I do need to know what your situation is? How does a young woman like you live in the Village without roommates? And do you really not have any family?”

Raina, the potential nanny in question, steels her shoulders as she opens her mouth to respond. “My parents died in a plane crash in Alaska when I was a teenager, so I moved in with my aunt, who had a brownstone in the Village that she’d inherited when their parents passed. It had been in my dad’s family for generations. My mom was an only child and her parents had already died by then, so it was literally just me and my aunt. She passed away from cancer a year ago. The reason I never finished at Columbia was because she got sick my junior year, and I had to take a leave of absence my senior year to take care of her.”

Petra looks at me, her eyes wide, then looks back at the girl. “Will you excuse us for a minute?”

She nods, looking nervous, like she’s said too much even though all she did was give us the honest answer to Petra’s somewhat invasive question.

Petra stands and I follow her to the living room and then out to the entry.

“Hire her.” The words are out of her mouth in a whispered, frantic plea the minute we’re out of earshot.

“Without checking her references?” I ask. This seems very unlike Petra.

“Of course I want you to check her references.” She uses her hand to sweep the air like she’s shooing away that ridiculous notion. “But as long as they check out, this is our girl.”

God, I love the way she’s been using “we” during the interview and is saying “our” right now. But I need to not focus on that, because when we woke up this morning she had a text from her assistant about her flight home on Sunday. I need to accept that she’s leaving. I need to prepare Stella. And then I need to figure out how to get her back here as soon, and for as long, as possible.

“What makes you so sure this is the one?”

“She’s so chill. Like I could see her taking everything in stride—Stella’s huge personality, your very public career, the erratic schedule. And most importantly, the fact that she lost her parents when she was younger means she will have empathy for what Stella’s gone through, unlike Irina.” A shudder runs through Petra at the mention of the almost-nanny.

“I think she’ll be fine,” I say.

“That’s it?” Her whisper makes it sound like she’s hissing this question at me. Is my agreeing with her pissing her off?

“I agree with what you’re saying about why she’s a good fit.” I shrug. “And I could see her here in our lives. I feel like she’d be very easy to get along with and not, I don’t know, not take up too much space, you know?”

Her eyes narrow. “What do you mean by ‘not take up too much space’?”

I’m not sure why this is the wrong thing to have said, but I can tell by her response that it is. “I . . .” I pause, considering my words. “I feel like Irina would have inserted herself into everything, insisting that her way was the only way. It would have been like living with a tyrant. Raina seems like the exact opposite. Like she’ll be flexible and easy to be around, but firm enough with Stella when needed. I’m not worried that if I’m home while she’s here with Stella, that she’ll be trying to nanny me too.”

Petra swallows. “Okay.”

“Why, what did you think I was saying?”

“I don’t know,” she says, looking off down the hallway behind me. I hate it when she won’t meet my eye. “I’m just sensitive to the idea that women ‘shouldn’t take up too much space.’ That phrase is used often to try and keep women in small boxes so their successes don’t threaten men.”

I put my hands on her shoulders and wait until she looks up at me. “You do know that’s not what I meant, right?”

“I do now,” she says. “Let’s not keep Raina waiting.” With that, she steps away and walks past me. Then she turns around quickly. “But when you offer her the job, can you make it contingent on her finishing up at Columbia? Stella is in school for six hours a day. She should at least be able to take some classes, even if not a full load. That degree is the key for her future, so she has options.”

It occurs to me then that I don’t think Petra ever went to college, and I wonder if she’s somehow insecure about that fact. “Okay, but I didn’t go to college,” I remind her.

“You’re a professional athlete.” She rolls her eyes. “Your career wasn’t dependent on it, and you’re set for the future with what you’ve earned so far.” She’s not wrong.

“What about you?” I ask.

“I supported myself with skiing and the endorsements that came along with it, and then modeled when skiing was over. I saved enough money from modeling to start my own business. Most people don’t have that luxury either.”

I want to ask her so many questions about how she got where she is, about her father, and if he got to see her successes before he died, about where she’s going from here. But she turns and walks back into the living room and I have no choice but to follow her.

“Thanks for your patience,” Petra says to Raina when we each take our seats.

“Of course,” she says.

Petra gives me a pointed look.

“We’d like to offer you the job,” I start. “As long as your references check out. I can make the calls this morning.”

“Thank you so much,” she gushes, the excitement evident in her voice.

“There are a couple conditions though, so I want to make sure you’re okay with them before I start making calls.”

She gives a definitive nod and says “Okay,” but her face drains of color. What the hell does she think I’m going to suggest?

“First, the NDA is essential. Stella’s privacy is of the utmost importance. When you leave here, I’m sure you’ll spend some time Googling me and seeing what you can find out.” Her face flushes a bit when I say this, and I realize that she’s probably already done this. “What you won’t find,” I continue, “is any mention of me being the guardian of my niece. For a variety of reasons, I want that kept as quiet as possible.”

“Of course,” she says.

“The other condition,” I say, hoping she’ll agree, “is that as long as you’re working for me, you need to be working toward finishing that degree at Columbia.”

She gets this hopeful, excited look before her face falls. “I don’t think I can afford to do that,” she says.

That hadn’t occurred to me.

“Why not?”

“I got a scholarship to Columbia,” she says, looking at the floor. “But when I looked into going back after my aunt passed away, they wouldn’t finance any of my education because I now own this really valuable property in the Village. But it’s been in my family for generations, I can’t sell it. The financial aid officer at Columbia suggested I take out a reverse mortgage to pay for school, but how would I pay that back while also going to school? The property taxes alone take up a huge part of my salary.”

“What about student loans?” I ask.

“That’s really the only feasible option, since I wouldn’t have to start paying them while I’m in school. But I did the math. Between the student loans and the property taxes, that would give me almost nothing to live on once I graduated. My major is child psychology. It’s not exactly leading to a lucrative career path, at least not right away.”

“You’re making some really tough, but really smart, financial decisions right now,” Petra says, and I realize that this is exactly the kind of math she’s probably done her entire life. Especially when she was saving to pay my father back for that loan for school, not knowing that it was something that would never need to be repaid. I realize how much I have not once missed that money, how investing in someone else’s future made me feel better than the money sitting in an investment account, growing me more money, ever could.

“I’ll pay for the classes.”

Petra’s head snaps toward me and Raina sucks in a sharp breath. “Why would you do that?” Raina asks, the skepticism clear in her voice and the pinched look on her face.

“Because Petra pointed out that without your degree, your future options are limited. And because I can. Because I won’t even miss that money. It’ll do far more good this way.”

Raina’s mouth drops open. “How would I ever pay you back?”

“Just take good care of my kid,” I tell her. “Be firm enough that she doesn’t grow into a spoiled brat, and kind enough that she feels loved. Be there for her when I can’t. And as long as you’re working for me, I’ll pay for you to take as many classes as you can reasonably manage each semester.”

Raina’s eyes are glassy with unshed tears.

“Say yes,” Petra stage-whispers to her with a laugh.

“Okay,” Raina says slowly. “Yes.”

I stand and hold my hand out to her, and she stands to take it. We shake on it. “I’ll call your references right away. I have to leave for Philadelphia in”—I glance at my watch—“a few hours. I’ll have my lawyer email you a contract this afternoon.”

“Thank you so much,” she says. “I feel like you both have just changed my life.”

“It’s going to be so worth it,” Petra says, “because I can already tell you are going to be good for Stella, and I’m glad you’ll get more out of this than just a paycheck. I can’t wait to see you graduate.”

There’s warmth spreading through my chest. It’s a hot lump that grows in a way that’s almost painful, but also amazing. Is it pride at being able to help Raina achieve her dreams, while she’s here helping to raise Stella so I can achieve mine? Is it hope at the way Petra talks about seeing a graduation that’s at least a couple years down the road? Is it admiration for the way Petra suggested something I never would have thought of and made such a huge difference in this girl’s life?

I can’t describe this feeling because I’m not sure I’ve ever felt it before. But it feels like my life is finally coming together like it was always supposed to.

Two hours later, I’ve finished up with my phone calls and Avery has assured me she’ll have Tom’s paralegal draft the contract and have Tom sign it today.

“It’ll be in Raina’s inbox before I leave the office tonight,” Avery says. I can tell she senses I’m worried this won’t happen quickly enough. “Okay?”

“Thanks, Avery.”

“Anytime. Bye.”

Knowing this is locked down, and being able to cancel the remaining interviews on Friday when I’m back, will give me such peace of mind. I want to know this search is over and that Stella will be well cared for once Petra leaves. That thought is a rock in the pit of my stomach. I know it’s reality—she has a business to get back to. She has other events besides the one she’s planning for me, and I’m sure planning them from afar like this is more difficult. I know she has friends and a life in Park City. But I want her life to be here, in New York, with us.

I stop my pacing when that reality hits me. I’ve known that I want Petra to stay since the minute I kissed her. Probably even before that. But that was selfish me, wanting to be close to her, wanting to be able to touch her and taste her any time I wanted. Wanting Stella to be able to keep looking at Petra with that adoration she so clearly has for my ex-best friend, now current lover.

But this reality is different. This feeling is different. I want her to stay for good. To see if we can make this marriage more than just a slip of paper. I can envision us here, together, with Stella and with more kids if Petra’s willing, and with a happiness I never dared hope for. Until now.

I can hear the low rumble of her voice out in the solarium, which she’s been using as her office during the day while Stella’s in school. I head over to the glass doors that lead from my bedroom out there, and quietly pull one open so that I’ll be able to hear when she’s done with her call.

I glance at my watch. Shit. I have five minutes until I need to be downstairs where Daniel will be waiting to load my suitcases into the car and drive me to our training facility, then we’ll head down to Philly on our team bus. I definitely don’t want to interrupt Petra, but I want to talk to her before I go. I want to let her know that everything’s a go with Raina, and also tell her how I’m feeling about our future. I want to plant the idea like a seed that can grow when it’s ready.

“No”—Petra’s voice is firm—“there’s no way I can be in LA by the end of this week. Late next week, probably.”

What the hell?

She laughs and that throaty, sensual sound rolls over me like it always does, springing to life a small flame of desire. “You don’t need me, Charlie, you want me. There’s a difference.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as a chill moves down my spine. Who the fuck is Charlie?

There’s a pause as she listens to the response and then a low, disapproving “Hmm” rattles around in her mouth. “I’ve already given you my answer.” Another pause and then, “No, I haven’t found a place yet.” A place in LA? “I saw a promising little house online, but I want to go see it when I get there.” She laughs at whatever this asshole Charlie says. “Well, obviously, I want to be as close to you as humanly possible.”

Another chill moves down my spine. Have I really been this blind, thinking that just because we have this history and we’re having amazing sex and she’s great with my kid, that it means she’d want to stay? Are my feelings really this entirely one-sided? And this whole time she’s been seeing someone else? Is she moving to Los Angeles to be with him?

I don’t know her at all.

She mumbles a low, “Of course.” Like everything she says, it sounds sexy.

I shut the door as silently as I opened it, take a few quick steps across my bedroom, grab my suitcase, and head downstairs. I need to get out of here, to think about what I just overheard and to figure out what it means. And I need to be away from Petra to do that.