Shame creeps over me as I realize that I never gave her a chance to explain.
I jumped to an obvious conclusion and then—walked away.
Because I wasn’t man enough to stand up for the woman I love.
Because I lumped her in a category with other women instead of remembering everything she’s been through—everything we’ve both been through.
She got money from her acting career, not from DeMarco.
She took the job after all because the logistics changed.
And I’m the dumbass who never even asked her a single question.
What the hell is wrong with me, and what have I done?
“I’m sure dinner is going to be delicious,” I tell Jayne, “but I have plans. Sorry!”
With that, I race up the stairs and take a quick shower. I’ve been traveling all day and feel a little gross, but I also need some time to figure out what I’m going to say to Serena. How many ways I can apologize. I need to stop for flowers. And something for Joey.
I don’t even know if she’s going to be willing to talk to me after the way I ghosted her, but I have to try.
Sometimes I can be stubborn to a fault—and that’s not something I’m proud of. Definitely something I need to work on.
I’ve just gotten in my SUV when I see Mr. Carrier’s name on the screen of my phone.
Oh, crap.
This day might just be going from bad to worse, but I can’t ignore him.
“Hello?”
“West. Claude Carrier here.”
“Mr. Carrier. Hello.”
“I understand there’s been a rumor going around about Anthony DeMarco.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you doubt I’m a man of my word, West?”
“No, sir, but I know hockey is a business, and?—”
“Don’t give me any of that PC bullshit. You and I shook hands and I guaranteed you that for a period of at least two years, I would not even entertain a trade for DeMarco. Unless and until you specifically gave your permission. That was part of our deal to get you out here. So, what makes you think I would do something like that without so much as a head’s up?”
Yeah, I’m fucking up pretty much everything in my life right now.
“Well, it came straight from him. He said you spoke and there was something in the works.”
“He mentioned me by name?”
“He did.”
“Little prick.” He mutters something I can’t quite distinguish but then continues talking. “Listen, his agent reached out, and I had Ralph tell him we didn’t have the cap space. End of conversation. Anything else he’s saying, it’s a bald-faced lie.”
I’ve never been more relieved to hear something in my life.
I’ve also never been more embarrassed in my life. Not professionally anyway.