He mightstillbe in town, even. What if there was a way to reach him tonight?
She only had one idea where a girl could possibly find a pro athlete.
Paige jumped off the couch and stood with purpose. “Do you mind staying here with Irie for a little?”
“Er, sure. But can I ask why?”
“I'm going to Zickell's.”
Emily nodded slowly and with understanding. “Okay. Good luck.”
***
I look like shit,Paige thought, glancing at herself in her rear-view mirror as she sped through the snow-covered streets. Her tired eyes seemed to sag from an eight-hour shift of serving tables. The fact that she'd already removed her makeup for the night wasn't doing her any favors either.
Beneath her parka, she still had herBurger Standuniform on: a deep, scoop-neck t-shirt, which seemed to advertise her cleavage more thanthe restaurant name itself. She sniffed at the shirt and recoiled. She smelled like burnt frying oil, sweat, and stale beer.
I'm a stressed-out single mom who waits tables,Paige thought with a tidal wave of disgust. Self-consciously, she pulled the zipper of her parka higher to hide her shirt.
She knew that the ravages of time and the stress of single motherhood hadn't been kind to her.Ifshe found Lance Couture at Zickell's—andifhe was the same Lance she'd slept with two years ago—he'd surely find her revolting.
And yeah, sure, that was a lotofif's. But still, she had to wonder. How would this athlete react when he was told that he had a baby daughter? Would he want to be in Irie's life?
And could the flame of romance ever burn again?
This isn't about you,she thought, steeling herself.It's about Irie.
Besides, she knew that disappointment was waiting for her. Emily was probably right; she was only getting her hopes up.
At last, the restaurant came into view. Paige whipped into a parking spot and jumped out, running as fast she safely could on the icy sidewalk. Her breathing ceased as she grabbed the door's handle and pulled it open.
Paige took one step in and halted.
Inside that bar was utterchaos.Shouts and screams filled the crowded bar and a mass of bodies tightly converged in a single point, where fists were thrown back and forth. Glass was breaking all around, bottles were being thrown.
Paige took a hesitant step in—but immediately stopped the second she saw a bar stool arc over the crowd before it smacked a poor girl in the face.
Horrified, Paige gasped and slowly began to retreat. There was no sense endangering herself. A pro athlete wouldn't be in the middle of all that insanity, and neither should she.
But right at that moment, rushing out of the chaos, emerged a familiar face.
Lance.
It was him. And she knew in her heart that she'd been right.
Paige stood in the doorway, waiting for the instant when their paths would finally cross once more. Every second seemed to last an eternity. Would he recognize her?
A friend of Lance's was hurrying him from behind, pointing him towards the exit. The two neared, closer and closer. As they brushed by, Paige turned with them, her eyes locked on Lance. His face was twisted with still-smoldering rage. His right eye was swollen shut, and blood trickled from a gash on his brow. Her heart sank—she knew then that he'd been in the middle of that bar fight. Maybe he wasn't the kind of guy you wanted around your daughter …
They brushed by Paige, neither taking notice of her.
But at the last second, Lance looked up andsawher. Truly saw her. And his non-swollen eye flickered,remembering.Again, time seemed to freeze, and all Paige could sense was the thumping of her pulse in her neck.Does he really remember me?
His friend budged him from behind. “We need togo,Lance!”
“Wait.Wait!” Lance dug his heels into the ground and forced his buddy to stop. “Come with me,” he said. It wasn't so much a request but a command.
Before Paige had a chance to say or tell him anything at all, he grabbed her by the hand and rushed her out the door.
