I brace myself for whatever bullshit he’s about to sling my way.
“You love her? Lindy? You love my sister?”
“More than my own fucking life, asshole,” I answer him and don’t stick around for him to say anything else. I’ve got a game to prep for, and this isn’t how I want to do it.
Lindy
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
I’m not sure I can accurately measure how much I don’t want to call Max. That’s the only reason I can come up with for waiting until I’m in the arena’s parking lot, thirty minutes before puck drop to make the call.
“Madeline,” he answers after one ring. “Are you okay?” Max always goes straight into protector mode. If any of my older brothers assumed the father role after our father died a few months before I was born, it was Max. He’s my oldest brother. My oldest sibling. He’s always taken it on his own shoulders to make sure all nine of us were okay. Me especially, considering Jace is my closest sibling in age, and he was in high school when our dad died.
“I’m fine. I’m great, actually,” I add, trying to sound cheerful instead of like I’m about to walk the plank. Which is kinda what this phone call feels like. “I decided to fly out for Easton’s game tonight and wanted to give you a heads-up that I was here. There were a few reporters at the hotel last night and today, so I’m sure it will end up somewhere.”
“Why didn’t you call me? I could have arranged a box for you. If you give me a few, I can get my assistant—”
“That’s why I didn’t call, Maximus. I wanted to come to the game and watch my husband play. Not come and check out the team I own. There’s a difference,” I tell him, silently willing him to understand.
“That’s where you’re wrong, kid. There’s no difference. It’s two sides of the same coin, and you’re going to have to learn how to balance it. Married or not, you’ll always be a Kingston, Madeline. You’re a shareholder in King Corp. An owner of two of the biggest sports teams in the country. You won’t ever be just a player’s wife. The press will never leave you alone.” His tone is short but not mean. Not exactly loving either. But hey, at this point, it’s a start.
“And as a Kingston, you need to start acting like one. The press is going to follow you when you show up to a game. You know this. They’ve been doing it since you were a teenager. And that was before and after the Olympics.”
Yup. I’m still, apparently, a disappointment. “Listen, I think I understand what you’re saying. And I’ll try to handle it better. In my defense, I haven’t exactly been married to a player before, and this is all new to me. But that advice goes both ways. If I’m willing to try to see your point, it would be really nice if the family could try to see mine.”
“Everyone loves you, kid,” he tells me, like that makes it better.
“But that’s the problem, Max. I’m a grown woman, not a kid. You all seem to forget I’ve had the benefit of watching you all go through hell to get your happily-ever-afters. You also forget that I’m very good at math, and I have an excellent memory. Your wife was twenty-three when you met her. And you were older than my husband. So you may want to back off.”
He sits quietly on the other end of the phone while I roll down the window of the town car and watch the people all file out of their cars and into the arena. “Listen, Max. I’ve got to go. The game’s going to start soon.”
“Point taken.”
“What?” I ask him, confused.
“You’re right. Daphne was twenty-three when we met, and not everyone was onboard with our relationship.”
“And did you give her up?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“If I had, we wouldn’t have Serena.”
“Nope. You sure wouldn’t, big brother. Think about that while I’m thinking about what you said. I really do have to go though. I want to catch some of the warm-up.”
“Love you, Madeline. You sure you don’t want me to get you into the box with the staff?”
“No, thank you. I got myself a ticket right by one of the nets. Talk soon.” I end the call, and for a brief moment, I think maybe, just maybe, there’s some hope with my family.
That’s forgotten the minute I get out of the car and a million flashes go off in my face.
“Madeline, look over here.”
“Lindy, is that Easton’s jersey?”
Lindy, are you pregnant?”