The Hockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife (Blair and Grayson) novel Chapter 116

Chapter 116

~OLIVIA~

Blair was laughing so hard she had to bury her face in the pillow.

I had just finished the recap. Luca. The punch. Roman scooping me up and carrying me upstairs.

She popped back up, eyes wide. “He actually hit him.”

“Yep.”

“I don’t care what he says. That man has feelings for you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Feelings. Sure. He probably still thinks of me as his little sister.”

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Blair made a face like she’d bitten something sour. “Ew. No. I watched him check you out at the wedding. Multiple times. And he had a date standing right there.”

My stomach did a stupid little flip. “You’re lying.”

“I would not lie about that. Also, he has a game tonight. We should go. Surprise him.”

I had always wanted to go to his games recently. I just never had the guts. On TV I could watch him in peace. No one could see my face. In person I was terrified I’d scream something unhinged during a free throw and end up on a highlight reel. I love you, Roman Vale. The thought alone made me want to crawl under the couch. But if Blair was going, I could hide behind her.

“Fine,” I said. “If I die of embarrassment, you’re naming the baby after me.”

Blair insisted that she choose my outfit.

I would have worn jeans and a hoodie and tried to disappear. She put me in a Port City Titans crop top that ended above my navel and a skirt so short I spent the entire car ride trying to tug it down.

Navy and silver. Titans colors. Hair done. Lip gloss.

“This is a basketball game,” I muttered, yanking the skirt again.

“This is a mission.” Blair slapped my hand. “You look hot. Stop pulling. He already carried you to bed. The least you can do is make him suffer a little.”

“I cannot believe you’re married and still like this.”

“I’m married, pregnant, and living for this. Sit still.”

Ethan had gotten the seats. Good ones. Close enough to see everything clearly. Close enough for Roman to spot me.

He thought we were just coming to support his best friend. Roman had no idea we were coming.

The arena was already loud when we walked in.

Titans navy everywhere. Music. Lights. I sat on my hands so I wouldn’t keep fixing the skirt. Blair looked smug.

“Do not yell anything weird,” I whispered to myself.

“What?” Ethan said.

“Nothing.”

Then the team came out.

Roman hit the court and the whole building stood up.

He looked exactly like he did on TV–tall, locked in, already in game mode, until his eyes swept the family seats and stopped.

On me.

The ball in his hand might as well have vanished. For a second he just stared. Crop top. Short skirt. Port City written across my chest.

11/3

Chapter 116

His jaw tightened.

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Ethan waved. Roman did not wave back right away. He looked at me like I had walked onto the floor with the rest of his team instead of into a seat.

A teammate bumped him and said something I couldn’t hear. Roman blinked, nodded once, and moved. But his eyes came back before tip–off, darker than they had any business being at a basketball game.

Blair leaned in, delighted. “Told you.”

“He’s looking at the bench.”

“He’s looking at your legs.”

“Blair.”

“I’m pregnant, not blind.”

The whistle blew.

He played like the game had been invented for him.

First possession, he came off a screen, rose up, and dropped a midrange jumper that barely touched the net.

The crowd exploded. Two possessions later he stole the ball at half court, took two long strides, and finished with a dunk that made the entire lower bowl jump to its feet.

The sound was explosive. It hit my chest.

Girls in the section next to us lost their minds. One of them screamed his name like she was in love with him. I wanted to be the one doing that. Shouting his name while he looked over at me and smiled.

Ugh. Keep dreaming.

Another held up her phone and filmed him like she was collecting videos for a purpose.

A group of three in matching crop tops–shorter than mine, which I hated noticing, started chanting Ro–man, Ro–man every time he touched the ball.

I clapped because everyone else was clapping. My palms stung.

Roman ran the floor like it belonged to him. He found the open man without looking. He contested shots at the rim that should have been easy.

When he got fouled, he stepped to the line, bounced the ball twice, and knocked both free throws down like the arena wasn’t already full of people losing their voices for him.

The girls kept going.

Every timeout they leaned over the railing. One of them blew a kiss. Another held a sign that said Marry Me Roman in glitter letters. Blair saw me looking and pinched my knee.

“You’re scowling.”

“I am not scowling.”

“You look like you want to fight a sign.”

“The sign is tacky.”

“The sign is honest. Sit down.”

I sat. I still wanted to fight the sign.

Roman kept playing through it. He hit a three

from the corner that sent the crowd into another roar.

He dove for a loose ball and came up with it, jersey already dark with sweat, hair stuck to his forehead.

The girl two rows down actually grabbed her friend’s arm and screamed.

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