My abdomen spasms and my breakfast threatens to make a reappearance. “Mom, I’ve got to go.”

  “Wait—”

  I end the call without a second of hesitation. I can’t talk to her right now. God, I wish I never had to talk to her again. But I’m not that lucky. I’ll have to deal with all of this eventually. First, I need to throw up.

  When the doorbell rings while I’m brushing my teeth, I say a prayer that it’s not my mother. That would be my fucking luck.

  My phone has been blowing up since I ended our call, but I can’t look at it. I can’t talk to her. Honestly I can’t talk to anyone. But I can’t ignore the door either. If Camden checks the camera, he’ll see her standing there, and I don’t know how the fuck to deal with any of this right now.

  I can’t imagine Camden will take the news well. But maybe if I explain that I had no idea who he was and that I have virtually no relationship with her, he can get past the shitty details.

  With a steadying breath, I head downstairs, taking the steps two at a time. “I’m coming,” I call as the doorbell chimes again.

  I swing the door open, and when I find a teenage boy on the doorstep rather than my backstabbing mother, I let out a relieved groan.

  “Whoa. Who are you?” the kid says as I slap my hands to my knees and bend in two, sucking in lungfuls of air.

  I peer up at him, heart still racing. “Savannah, Cam’s girlfriend. And you are?”

  “Oh.” He straightens and grins. “I’m Maverick, his godson.”

  I point at him, a memory surfacing. “Right, Daniel and Hannah’s kid.”

  He chuckles. “I guess we can go with that. Is Cam here?”

  Standing, I shake my head, feeling only slightly better. At least this kid is a distraction.

  “No, he’s at work, I think.” Maybe. I was too preoccupied this morning to pay attention when he told me his plans. I barely got through the night without breaking down and confessing my suspicions to him.

  “Damn.” He sighs. “I just wanted to drop off these forms.” He holds out a large manilla envelope. “I appreciate what you’re doing, by the way.”

  Frowning, I take it from him. “What I’m doing?”

  He nods, his thankful expression genuine. “Yeah, I don’t know what he’s paying you or anything like that, but thanks. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  Discomfort builds in my chest, making it feel tight. “Paying me for what?”

  He looks at me like I’ve got two heads. “The bet.”

  “What bet?”

  “The one Cam made with my mom. That he could make a relationship last three months.” His expression falls. “Ya know, so that I can enter the draft…” His words die and his eyes go wide, like he’s realizing that I have no fucking clue what he’s talking about. “I, uh. Forget it,” he says, taking a step back. “Just tell Camden I dropped off the—” He shakes his head. “Actually, ya know what? Don’t tell him anything. In fact, forget everything I said.”

  With that, he’s gone, rushing down the steps, and I’m left nodding at the empty porch, my thoughts scrambled.

  I’m pretty sure this kid just told me that my boyfriend, who used to date my mother, is only dating me to win a bet.

  Wow. When shit goes wrong, I’m not usually surprised. I’ve come to expect that everything inevitably goes south. But I really didn’t see this coming.

  Turns out it really was him and not me. I officially lost the guy. Then again, I guess Camden was never really mine to lose.

  You can’t lose something you never had.

  FORTY-ONE

  CAMDEN

  Aiden: Who’s ready for another wager?

  Brooks: I’m out. I’m not playing games with you. I either end up with a pierced dick or watching Playboy hump the ground.

  Daniel: My wife was controlling my dick. How many times do I have to say this?

  War: I’d really like to know nothing about your dick, Playboy. Lep, what’s the wager?

  Aiden: How long until the Iceman puts a ring on Sav’s hand.

  Brooks: Lennox totally stole your phone

  Aiden: Did not!

  War: Hahahaha. One thousand percent.

  Daniel: Okay, new rule! Wives can’t be in the group chat. We need a modicum of privacy, girls.

  Aiden: Still me.

  Me: Don’t worry, you’ll all know the minute I pop the question.

  Aiden: Hear that, fellas??

  Brooks: Sara! Aiden just walked into practice, and he said you said you needed to borrow his phone.

  Aiden: Oops. New number, who dis?

  I chuckle as I click out of the chat and send a quick text to Sav.

  Me: Baby girl, better check your messages. It seems the girls are taking bets about when I’m going to propose. If you want to win, I can give you the inside scoop.

  I add a wink emoji and shove my phone into my pocket. In the other is the ring I just picked up. I want to ask her before my sister comes to town. For so long, I haven’t been able to celebrate the big moments in my life with my family. Cora was gone when I was drafted into the NHL. She missed the Stanley Cups and the celebrations.

  But now that we’ve rebuilt our relationship, I want to celebrate with my sister after I pop the question to Savannah.

  And since Savannah has made it clear that she isn’t close to her parents, I’m doing something a little unconventional. I’m headed to her old apartment building to ask Rosalie and Nick for their blessing and to convince them to help me with the proposal. And the Donovans. The people in that building are her chosen family. Along with Josie, Addie, and Sutton. They’ll be my next call.

  I want to show Savannah that the people she cares about care about her in return. And that we’ll always choose her. That she’s our family. And what better way than by throwing a big engagement party? And tonight is the night. I’m going to ask while I make Rosalie’s meatballs for her. I’ve planned a simple night with my girl. One of thousands of nights together we’ll have if she agrees to forever.

  Not that I’m worried she’ll say no. For the first time in my life, I’m confident that someone will choose me.

  I feel like I’m floating as I navigate through Savannah’s old neighborhood.

  I’ve even started looking at facilities in Boston that could handle my mother’s care. My sister deserves to choose where she wants to live, but she loves Boston, so I have an inkling that if we can get Mom here, Cora will be ecstatic. And I want them both here. I hope that one day I’ll have a child of my own, and I don’t want my family to miss out on any time with them. My relationship with my mother will always be complicated, but Cora and I are in a good place, and I’ll do anything to continue to foster our relationship.

  As I jog up the steps to the building, I smile at the snowman that’s fallen over. I’ve just reached the door when it swings open, so I step back, making room for the person heading out, bracing myself for a conversation with one of the Donovan kids. They’re adorable, but Piper is the only one who speaks clearly enough for me to understand.

  Rather than Rosalie or Nick or one of the Donovans, an unfamiliar woman with platinum blond hair steps out, gripping her chest in surprise. “Oh. You scared me.”

  “Sorry about that.” I take another step back, hands in my pockets—one cupped around the ring box—and give her a cordial smile. “After you.”

  She narrows her brown eyes, the lines on her forehead creasing severely. “Camden?”

  I frown. I don’t recognize her. Yeah, fans still spot me sometimes, but the way she said my first name only, as if she knows me, makes me hesitate. With another quick scan of her face, I confirm that I don’t recognize her. A fan, then. So I offer the kind of easy smile I save for situations like this. “Yes, that’d be me. Hockey fan?”

  She coughs out a laugh. “Oh my god. What are the chances? I was just telling my daughter about you, and here you are.” She throws herself into my arms, squealing. “I can’t believe how long it’s been.”

  I cup her upper arms and push her back. “I’m sorry, I, uh—” I study her again. I guess maybe she looks a little familiar. But she honestly looks like dozens of blondes I’ve met over the years.

  Shit. My stomach drops. Because the longer she looks at me, her eyes full of excitement, the more obvious it is that we probably fucked at some point, and she apparently thought it meant more than I did.

  “You seriously don’t recognize me?” Her shoulders sag, her tone chiding.

  I shake my head and give her an apologetic frown. “I’m sorry.”

  “Tara Brewer,” she says with a tight smile.

  My already uneasy stomach pitches. Fuck. It’s been years. Probably fifteen since I saw her that last time in that bar. What the fuck is she doing outside Savannah’s old apartment? Unease slithers through my veins and anger sets in. “Are you stalking me?”

  She jolts back, her eyes going wide. “What? No. I was just visiting my daughter.”

  I glance over her shoulder at the building. Erin is her daughter?

  “What are you doing here?” She squints at me, like she’s considering that I’m the one following her. Fuck no. I’d be happy if I never saw this woman again.

  “My girlfriend lives here,” I grumble. I guess that’s not true anymore. And thank fuck. I don’t want Savannah anywhere near here. Poor Erin. I can’t believe she was raised by this sorry excuse for a woman.

  She peers back, surveying the building. “Really?” Then, wearing a flirty smile that causes bile to climb up my throat, she says, “I was hoping I’d run into you while I was here. Do you have some time? I’d love to grab a drink and catch up.”

  I scowl. “You are the last person I’d ever want to catch up with.”

  “Camden, don’t be like that.” She takes a step closer to me, her lashes fluttering.

  My skin crawls. I hate this woman. It fucking guts me that I’ve allowed her to control so much of my life. That her betrayal kept me from trusting anyone—until Savannah.

  Though I can’t help but see the silver lining and focus on that instead. Had she not betrayed me, I might have married her. And even if I saw sense and didn’t, then without her betrayal, I wouldn’t have been so broken and I probably would have met another woman and settled down, and that means I wouldn’t have Savannah. I wouldn’t have found the true definition of happiness, and I wouldn’t be ready to propose. If the only way to get here was to live life as a shell of a man for almost three decades, then so be it. I’d do it all over again.

  “Take care of yourself, Tara.” I turn on my heel and head back to my car. I can talk to Rosalie and Nick another time. Right now I want to get home to my girl. We don’t need perfect to be happy. I just need her.

  “If you change your mind,” Tara calls, “I’ll be staying here with Savannah for the next week or so.”

  A bark of a laugh rips its way out of me. Like I’d ever change my mind. I’m halfway to my car when the rest of her comment registers, and I whip around. “Did you say Savannah?”

  She gives me another one of those fake flirty smiles and saunters toward me. “Yeah, my daughter Savannah. She lives here.”

  It’s like a punch to the gut. Like being hit by a train. And as the pieces fall into place, my world crumbles around me.

  How’s your relationship with your dad?

  Nonexistent.

  I can work with that.

  I didn’t know you were from Vegas.

  I don’t really…

  Her mother is a piece of work and her father never wanted to be one.

  Memory after memory pummels me, stealing my breath and all my strength. I bend at the waist and suck in air, my chest burning. No fucking way.

  “Camden.” Tara sounds like she’s in a tunnel. I can’t make out a word she’s saying. None of them matter anyway.

  Because Savannah, my Savannah, is Tara’s daughter. The woman I was about to propose to is the daughter of my ex-girlfriend. The daughter, that for a moment in time, she tried to play off as mine.

  The nausea wins out when reality sinks in, and my stomach lurches violently, and then I lose my breakfast all over the goddamn street.

  How the fuck did she do it to me again? She ruined everything.

  FORTY-TWO

  SAVANNAH

  Every single phone call to Camden goes unanswered. It’s been three hours, and I haven’t heard a fucking word. My heart is in my throat and my stomach is in knots.

  I’ve tried to convince myself that I overreacted. There’s got to be an explanation. Even if the bet was in place when we started dating, he cares about me. He couldn’t have made it all up. Couldn’t have lied that well. And why? He could have just dated me, or anyone for that matter. He didn’t need to tell me he loves me and move me into his home. He isn’t that cruel.

  I text him again.

  Me: We need to talk. Please call me back as soon as you can.

  I set the phone on the bathroom counter and stare into the mirror. My eyes are red rimmed, my skin pale. I’ll wash my face, do my makeup, and get dressed. Cam will be home soon, and we’ll figure this out.

  There has to be an explanation.

  The stress weighing on me over the bet situation is heavy, but the whole ex-girlfriend being my mother thing is almost enough to make my knees buckle.

  My stomach rolls again. This fucking day can go get fucked.

  I blow out a breath. Time to be a big girl. I should call my mother and talk to her. Convince her not to come. Maybe if I cut her from my life for good, Camden never has to know.

  Do you hear yourself? I glare at my reflection.

  Yeah, there’s no hiding this. With my mind a mess, I call my mother. I need more information. It rings once and then goes to voicemail. Ugh. This woman. She can’t drop a bomb on me like she did today and then just ignore me.

  After the beep, I sigh. “Mom, we need to talk. Call me back.”

  When I end the call, I find I already have a text message from her.

  Mom: Hi honey. Sorry I missed your call. I stopped by your apartment, but you weren’t there. My pilot friend is going to be in Boston tonight, so I’m headed back to the airport. Hope you don’t mind, but I saw the cash in the envelope on the counter. I’ll pay you back. Promise!

  I squeeze my eyes shut and ball my fists. That fucking money was for my landlord. Shit.

  But then I breathe out. Because she’s gone. And she can’t blow up my life if she’s not here.

  I don’t even let myself feel the sting that should come with finding out she’s running off with a man rather than sticking around to see me. It’s nothing new. At least she’s not trying to seduce my boyfriend like she originally planned.

  The second I finish that thought, I close my eyes and shake my head. My life is such a damn circus. I don’t know how I’ll pay my rent if she doesn’t pay me back, and I don’t actually believe she will, but right now I’m more concerned about why I haven’t heard from Camden.

  Pulse pounding, I call him again. I just need to hear his voice. I need to know I still have him. I’ll feel so much better if I can just talk to him.

  But it rings several times, and then his voicemail picks up. A minute after I end the call, a text finally comes through.

  Daddy: I can’t do this. I’m sorry. You should go back home.

  A manic laugh breaks free as tears blur my vision. “Home?” Where the fuck is home? Is he serious? I call him again, but this time it goes straight to voicemail. When the robotic voice tells me to leave a message, I throw the phone against the wall. “Fuck.”

  He wants me to go home. Do I even have one? Have I ever? This was supposed to be my home. My safe space.

  And thanks to my mother, I can no longer even afford the small space on the third floor of my apartment building. The only other place that ever came close to feeling like home.

  Camden felt like home too. And now I don’t have him either.

  FORTY-THREE

  CAMDEN

  My heart has shattered into a million pieces. Jagged little things that will never find their way back together.

  This is it. This is the point of no return. Over the years, it’s been sliced and bruised, but the damage could be patched up. Now, after this, it’s irreparable.

  I really thought I’d found it. Happiness. Fuck, I even silently thanked Tara for breaking me, because if she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have found the love of my life.

  Only the love of my life is Tara’s daughter.

  Her fucking daughter.

  I hold up a hand, getting the bartender’s attention.

  He saunters over, a brow cocked. “You sure you should have more?”

  I toss a handful of hundreds on the bar. “Leave the bottle and keep your opinions to yourself.”

  With a shake of his head, he drops the bottle of brown liquid next to my tumbler. Then he slides the money his way and wanders off.

  I don’t even bother pouring the whiskey into the glass. I just tip it back, take a swig, and drop it onto the mahogany. Then I pick up my phone.

  Chest aching, I reread the last message I sent.

  Me: I can’t do this. I’m sorry. You should go back home.

  That was hours ago.

  Maybe yesterday. I have no fucking idea what time it is. I considered getting on a jet. Flying away. But where the hell would I go?

  Instead, I parked myself on a stool at the airport bar. It never closes. Just goes from lunch to dinner to late night…to breakfast, I think? Is that next? Yup, the sun is coming up. Fuck.