Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player novel Chapter 195

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Chapter 195

“Whatever,” I mutter, wheeling the cart away before she can plead her case. We only came here for a few things, but Julie’s brain treats supermarkets like they’re memory vaults. Suddenly, she remembers everything they’re out of at home. She also insists her art is only “half- decent” unless she’s slightly inebriated.

Since the cruise ended – and with it, my decades–long friendship with the concept of hope I’ve been trying to figure out who I am without a wedding ring. Mostly, it’s been me, working through the darkness in my head and trying not to act on the worst parts of myself.

Spoiler: it’s going terribly.

No matter how many metaphors my therapist throws at me, I still can’t find even footing. And yet, I haven’t given up. I’ve been in and out of fertility clinics, still hoping one of them will finally give me some good news.

They haven’t. Not one. Another dead end. But at least I have my 4 PM Wednesday sob–fests with Dr. Lynne to look forward to. It’s depressing that that’s the highlight of my week.

Julie leads me to the pads aisle a war zone of choice — and launches into a full–blown debate about absorbency levels and wings versus no wings. I hang back with the cart, letting my eyes wander.

–

Naturally, they land on a 6’2 slab of man–god only a few feet away. Muscled. Delicious. Holding a baby. Single dad? Good with kids? Doesn’t matter both are turn–ons. He’s in the feminine care aisle, which means he’s not squeamish about women’s anatomy. Yummy. Probably has a sister. And that beard? Thick enough to send my ovaries into cardiac arrest.

I’m one internal monologue away from ditching Julie when a woman walks up and grabs his free hand. Then I catch the wedding band on his finger. And just like that, a bucket of cold water dumps over my entire libido.

So much for that fantasy.

Maybe it’s the universe trying to tell me there won’t be a marriage number four.

And honestly? Fair.

“I was at Zane’s last game.” Julie announces once’she’s finally satisfied with her absurdly specific pad selection. “They’ve been so shitty this season, it’s a crime they still charge for tickets.”

I scoff. “Cut the man some slack. He just lost his fiancée. Of course he‘ s not on his A–game. And with Stone on trial, the whole team’s probably on edge.”

Julie gives me a look so dry it could peel paint. “Imagine defending Chicago. Could never be me.”.