She drew a deep breath. “Because …”
He cut her off before she had a chance to say whatever was on her mind. “I'm sorry, Paige, but I've really gotta go! We'll talk later, okay?”
He hated to leave Paige so abruptly, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wild with ire. But he truly had to go. He shut the door behind him and then he was gone, sprinting down the hall to his general manager's hotel room.
She'll understand, right?
Chapter 12
Paige
The apartment door creaked as Paige quietly entered, careful not to wake Irie. The glow of the television was the only light in the living room; the volume set to a faint whisper. Emily was wrapped in a blanket and sprawled across the love seat, her legs dangling over the armrest.
Emily woke with the sound of Paige's footsteps. She sat up and rubbed her groggy eyes. “Hey,” she said, her voice sleepy and confused. “What time is it?”
“Just past midnight.” Paige took a peek into her bedroom, where Irie was still peacefully asleep in her crib. “How was she?”
“Fine. She didn't wake once.”
“That's good.” Paige lowered herself to the floor and sat with her back resting against the love seat. The small sofa was the only furniture she owned. “Thanks again for staying with her, Em.”
“No prob.” Emily took a second to gather her thoughts and orient herself. At last, she spoke. “Man, you were gone for a while, weren't you?”
Paige let out a sardonic laugh. “Yeah. I was.”
“So, um, how'd it go? Did you find the guy you were looking for?”
Paige could tell by the way Emily asked the question that she didn't believe it was even a remote possibility that she'd find her hockey player … truth was, Paige still couldn't quite believe it either.
“I did, actually.”
Emily bolted upright, shaking off her groggy confusion in a split-second. “What? You did?Really?!”
“Yep.”
“And?!”
Paige bobbed her head. “It's him, alright. He's Irie's father.”
“We're talking abouttheLance Couture,right? The hockey player?He'sIrie's father?”
“The one and only.”
“Paige.Paige!Holy shit!” Emily grabbed Paige's shoulder and sank her claws into it. “Are you kidding me right now?! Because if you are, it's not funny.”
“I'm one-hundred-percent serious.”
Emily squealed. “You found him at Zickell's?”
“Yep. Apparently, he was looking for me, too. Imagine that.”
“Oh myGawd!” Emily leaped off the sofa with the grace of a cat and landed in the center of the room. Trying not to wake Irie, Emily quietly did a dance—hips gyrating, index fingers stabbing at the air. But soon, she realized the cheer of her infectious dance wasn't exactly spreading, and her excitement began to fizzle. “Okay, wait. If it's really him, why do you seem soblaséabout it? Is he … is he not willing to man up?”
Paige sighed. “I didn't—I didn't have a chance to tell him about Irie, actually.”
Emily's jaw dropped. She rushed over and shook Paige by the shoulders. “Are you mad? Why not?”
“I tried! Itried… but he was in such a rush to get out the door, damn it!”
