“Yes, she is.” He motioned to her bruised face. “Fistfight?”
“Nope. Derby training.”
“Looks tough.”
Novikov snorted. “Chicks in shorts. It’s terrifying.”
“Shut. Up.” Blayne looked back at Crush and asked with all sincerity, “And why didn’t you tell me you’re Cella’s boyfriend?”
Even though Crush wasn’t and he was definitely freaked out that the rumor had already spread past the hockey players and, it seemed, throughout the Sports Center, the bear in Crush still had to ask, “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why would I tell you that?”
“Because we’re friends!”
“We are?”
“Ya are now,” Novikov muttered.
“Of course, we are. I like you.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“Please,” Novikov suddenly cut in, “don’t use bear-logic on her. It’s completely ineffectual and brings on tears when she gets frustrated. Just accept she likes you and go about your day.”
“Is that what you do?”
“As her father says, ‘There are always bigger battles ahead.’ ”
“You know,” Blayne snapped, “I am right here listening to both of you.”Malone walked out of the women’s locker room. She wore grey sweatpants and a white T-shirt, her hair and body freshly washed, all her wounds and bruises tended. Crush watched Malone go up on her toes and look over the crowd. When she spotted them, she came over.
“Hey.”
“You did great, baby.” Her father hugged her.
“Thanks, Daddy. You going out now?”
“Just for a few drinks with the boys. Gotta get home to your mom. What about you two?” He smiled. “Big plans?”
“You bet.” She kissed her father on the cheek. “See you later.”
Nice Guy Malone held his hand out and Crush shook it. “It was really nice meeting you, Lou.”
“You, too, sir.”
“Call me Butch.” With a wink at his daughter, Mr. Malone walked off.
Cella kept smiling until her father was in the elevators and gone. Then she faced Crush and said, “So what do you wanna do tonight?”
“Uh—”
“Cella!”
Malone looked over her shoulder and smiled at the tiger male who came to her side. He wasn’t nearly as big as Butch. Crush was guessing he wasn’t Siberian, either.
“Hey. What are you doing here?”
“I was a block up meeting with a client.”
“Lou Crushek,” she said, “this is Brian Carpenter. My daughter’s father.”
Startled, but having trained years not to show it, Crush nodded. “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too.”
“And before you ask, Bri, I’m not discussing wedding plans with you.”
“Fine. Bachelorette party then.”
“I’m definitely not discussing that with you.”
“No strippers, Cella.”
“Oh, come on!”
“No. Strippers. I mean it. Are we clear?”
“You really just came over here to tell me that?”
“Why else would I come over here? To watch my daughter’s mother get the shit beaten out of her? I can see that during family get-togethers. Now say it with me ... no strippers. Male or female.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
The tiger smiled. “Thanks, beautiful.” He kissed her cheek and gave her a quick hug. “Gotta go.”
“And don’t forget about tomorrow. We gotta come to an agreement about what we’re going to get baby girl for her birthday so they can deliver it by Sunday.”
“I thought we already decided.”
“We did not decide.”
“Maybe I already decided.”
“Really? You wanna go that route with me? Really?”
“You’re being difficult.”
“I’m always difficult. That’s what you love about me.”
“Yeah. Right.”
He walked off and Malone faced Crush. “So, about tonight—”
“I’m going home.”
“Oh.” And she had the nerve to look surprised. “Okay. Well ... I hope you had a good time.”
That Crush couldn’t lie about. “I had a great time. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. I hope I get to see you around some time.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Crush walked away from her, heading toward the elevators, and home.
“Man, does that guy run hot and cold.” She faced Novikov and Blayne. “At the very least you’d think he’d want to sleep with the ‘Bare Knuckles’ Malone.”
Shaking her head and throwing her hands up in the air, Blayne let out a big, overdramatic sigh.
“What’s that for?”
Unable to speak—which was amazing for Blayne—she motioned to Novikov.
“What?” Cella pushed.
“You’re really surprised he left?” Novikov asked.
“Yeah. I wore these sweats on purpose—they make my ass look great. I have a beautiful smile—as always. And we had a great game.”
“We had an okay game,” Novikov felt the need to correct. Cella balled her fingers into fists and he waved the correction away. “Forget I said anything.”
“I will. So explain to me what I did wrong with Mr. Uptight.”
Blayne lunged forward, forefinger jabbing dangerously, but Novikov pulled her back and held her with one hand.
“I’ll run it down for you. You introduced that tiger as your daughter’s father.”
“Bri is her father.”
“You discussed your gift-giving plans.”
“It’s Meghan’s eighteenth on Sunday and we’re planning to give her a car, but we have to figure out which one. Something sporty or something reliable? I’m thinking sporty.”
“Right. You also briefly talked about wedding plans and a bachelorette party.”
“My mom is the planner for Bri’s wedding here and I’m maid of honor in the States so I’m handling that bachelorette party for Rivka. I still don’t see the problem.”
“That’s because you’re looking at each thing individually when you should be stepping back and taking in the whole discussion. Then pretend for five seconds that you’re a normal person rather than, ya know, you, and think about how a normal person would see that whole thing without having any context whatso—”
“Oh, my God!”
Novikov nodded. “Exactly.”
Crush neared the front door of the Sports Center, the full-humans instinctively moving out of his way, when the feline suddenly cut in front of him. She slapped her hand against his chest, stopping him from going any farther.
“It’s not my wedding.”
Crush frowned. “Pardon?”
She took a breath—she must have run all the way up—and repeated, “It’s not my wedding. He’s father to my child, but he’s not marrying me. He’s marrying someone else completely.”
“And will he get custody?”
“Custody of who?”
“The child that can barely reach the stove, but you leave alone for hours?”
“Barely reach the ... You mean Meghan?” She laughed. “Meghan’s seventeen.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Seriously, I was joking. You have heard of jokes, right?”
“Thought jokes were supposed to be funny.”“It helps if one has a sense of humor.” She patted his chest. “But with some work and care, I’m sure I can give you one.”
“No thanks.”
Startled, she took a step back. “You’re not going to give me a chance to prove I’m a wonderful person?”
“You already think you’re a wonderful person. What do you need me for?”
She dropped her hands to her hips, squinting up at him.
“What?”
“I’m trying to figure out if you’re just a dick or if you’re really an uptight, overthinking good guy?”
“How about I make the decision for you.”
Crush stepped around her and walked out, determined to get away from this insane feline. And, as the door closed behind him, Crush heard her bark, “Well I guess it’s just you being a dick then, huh?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cella woke up swinging, but her wrists were quickly caught and held and a strong voice snapped, “Ma!”
Cella opened her eyes, immediately relaxed. “Hey, baby. Was I sleep-punching again?”
“No.” Meghan released her.
“What time is it?”
“Three a.m.”
“Really?” Then Cella grinned and threw her arms wide, wrapping them around her daughter. “Baby, it’s your birthday!”
Meghan hugged her back, but sighed. “Yeah. Great birthday.”
“What’s wrong?” Cella leaned back. “You and Josie have a fight?”
“No. I got my ... ya know.”
“Your period? Would you just say it? You’re going to be a doctor.”
“I’d prefer to say my menstruation started, but then you’d get bitchy about that.”
“That just sounds snobby.”
“Anyway, I was wondering if you could take me to the twenty-four-hour drugstore on Jericho Turnpike? I’m out of supplies.”
“Your cousins don’t have anything you can use?”
“I’m sure they do ... they also have brothers that I’d rather not sit around with on my birthday discussing this.”
Cella shuddered, remembering life with her own cousins at that age. Nothing was sacred or secret.
Throwing off the covers, Cella got out of bed. “Come on.”