Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Do you go to all of Lucky’s games?”
She nods, her eyes lighting up. “All the home games since we’ve been dating. He wants me to come to some of the away games, but I can’t swing it with work. Want to know how Lucky and I met?”
I blink, thrown by the sudden change. The twinkle in her eye intrigues me. “Um… yeah.”
Her grin widens. “A TikTok challenge. I was looking to date someone solid and ordinary, so I issued a challenge and he accepted.”
“But I’d argue he’s not ordinary,” I point out. “Just by the fact he’s a professional athlete.”
“You’re not kidding. He’s the least ordinary person I know and for that reason, I didn’t want to continue to date him after I found out he was a hockey player. But he persisted, so I kept at it.”
“Sounds like a fairy tale.”
Winnie snorts. “Not really. We sort of publicized the experiment and the comments were brutal at times. My self-esteem took a big hit.”
“Oh my God,” I say, reaching a hand out to touch her arm. “That’s awful.”
“It was, but Lucky made me want to push through that so I could get to the happily ever after with him. So don’t tell me fate doesn’t work in weird ways.”
I shake my head, but I can’t help the laugh that escapes. “That’s… actually kind of sweet. Terrifying, but sweet.”
“See? Sometimes the crazy risks we take pay off.” She taps the table with one perfectly shaped nail painted with only clear polish. “Anyway, the girls can’t wait to meet you. Mila, Tempe, Farren, Mazzy, Willa—they’ve all been texting me. You’re going to love them.”
“Wait!” My brows draw together. “Why would they want to meet me? And who are these women?”
She gives me a look that’s both exasperated and amused. “They’re some of the players’ significant others and they want to meet you because you’re part of this now.”
“I am not Atlas’s significant other,” I say, almost indignantly.
Winnie laughs. “Relax. You’re part of the Titans family because you are the co-parent to Atlas’s daughter. Which is so weird to say. I mean… two weeks ago, he was childless. Is daughter the right word?”
“It’s the right word,” I assure her, remembering what the nurse told us.
Mom. Dad. Daughter.
“And that means you’re family. So, of course everyone wants to meet you. I mean, there are other women too, but Mila and all are the ones I’m closest to and know the best. Oh, and Brienne will want to meet you too.”
“Brienne? As in the owner, Brienne?”
“Yes!” Winnie beams at me. “She’s amazing and not as intimidating as I thought she’d be. She takes such good care of her players and those who are important to them.”
Again, I doubt this applies to me. I’m not important to Atlas at all.
Winnie continues with barely a pause. “I’m thinking maybe we can all get together for brunch, because we’re allowed to drink mimosas at brunch. But it will have to be a day Atlas has off since he’ll watch Grayce.”
Suddenly, all of this feels wrong. There’s no world that I live in where I’d ask Atlas to help with Grayce so I could go drink mimosas, and moreover, I don’t do girlfriends. I never have, mainly because growing up in the foster system, girls are downright mean. The guys were sleazy, but the girls were the biggest bullies.
I fumble for a gentle response to decrease her expectations. “I’m not sure that’s going to work. Brunch isn’t really my thing. Or mimosas, for that matter.”
It’s a lame excuse and Winnie stares at me, her eyes boring deep. She tilts her head, reading me too easily. “You don’t have a lot of friends, do you?”
It should sting less than it does. “No, but I don’t feel I’m missing out on anything.”
“You’re completely missing out,” she says, her voice softening. “Atlas says Gray was your best friend. I know his passing must’ve left a huge hole in your heart.”
“He was my only friend, really.” The admission tastes bitter and shameful at the same time.
“Why’s that?”
I stare at the mug, watching the steam curl. I could deflect, but Winnie’s warmth makes lying feel pointless. “Because I don’t open myself up to that experience. I learned early not to count on people.”
Winnie’s expression hardens. “Who taught you such nonsense?”
“Foster care teaches you that,” I reply bluntly, not to shock her but because it’s the reason I am the way I am. “You’re constantly moving. New house, new rules, new faces. Nothing stays the same. You learn to avoid attachment so you can’t be let down or hurt.”
Winnie’s eyes shine but I don’t see pity, which I appreciate. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry that’s how you grew up.” She sips her coffee, then sets it down. “But Maddie, you’re not in foster care anymore. You don’t have to do it alone.”