Delayed Penalty (Empire State Hockey #5)

Chapter 4 – Avery

Chapter Four

Avery

T eaching students the week before spring break should be illegal.

At least that’s how it feels sometimes.

It’s Friday, the last day of school before spring break and the kids are absolute bonkers. It doesn’t help that there’s been an assembly, a big breakfast for the kids with music and dancing, and then we came back to our classes to finish testing.

In what world is that the best way to set up your students for success when you expect them to test. Also, in what world is it best practice to do testing the day before a big break when all the students have been talking about is where they are going on vacation? Not a damn kid is thinking about their education right now and it shows.

Plus, it’s my birthday and I have to deal with all of this.

Thankfully, it’s the end of the day and all we have left to do is wave off the buses, then we can pack up and head out for a week off. I thought I would be excited since it’s my birthday, but truthfully, it’s been almost depressing.

I woke up this morning to Peter already being gone for work, a coffee pot with not even half a cup of coffee left, and his breakfast mess all over the kitchen.

Happy fucking birthday to me.

Then on the way in to work, I stepped in a puddle and soaked my socks, and based on how tired I am right now, I’m almost positive the lady at the coffee stand gave me decaf. It’s just been a great day.

Now I get to go get changed into some stupid ass dress because Peter finally ended up making reservations for my birthday at this ridiculously pretentious restaurant I don’t really want to go to. But alas, I’m going because it’s easier to just keep him happy.

If your grandpa heard you say that, he’d roll over in his grave.

By the time I make it to the restaurant, I only have ten minutes to spare before Peter will be here, and I’m hoping to be sitting down with his drink ready for him so we can have an enjoyable night. Luckily, there’s no one else waiting so the hostess takes me to our table, which of course is Peter’s usual table since he comes here often for work meetings.

The nice thing about him being a regular here is that the staff is well-versed in what my fiancé likes so they already have our drinks out.

A whiskey for him and a glass of red wine for me because he thinks it makes me look sophisticated.

I think it makes me look pretentious as fuck since I’m drinking sour grapes that taste like some sort of vinegar I should be cooking with, but that’s just one of the many differences between Peter and I.

What I’m not expecting to see at the table is another glass of whiskey along with a glass of champagne.

What in the actual fuck?

“Here you are, ma’am. Mr. Humphrey said he would just be another moment, he’s just grabbing Mr. Richards and his daughter from their hotel.”

It all makes sense now. It may be my birthday, but of course, my fiancé would never want to just spend time with me unless there’s an ulterior motive, or at least something in it for him as a way to move up in this world, especially in his career.

Pulling my phone out of my purse, I go to text Peter, and instead see another text from Harris.

He who must not be named

Hi. Happy Birthday.

I hope today makes you smile.

Well, right now I’m not.

I still haven’t responded to his other text from the other day, asking to go get drinks because I’m honestly not sure how to respond. On one hand, in no way, shape, or form should I say yes. I have a fiancé who hates Harris more than anything, and I couldn’t tell you why. Hell, as soon as Harris and I broke up, Peter was there so there really shouldn’t be any reason for him to hate him. Not only that, but I should also hate him. I should hate Harris for breaking my heart. I should hate Harris for breaking up with me just so he could be single when he joined the NHL and fuck all the puck bunnies he wanted.

But I don’t hate him, and that’s always been the biggest problem. I’ve tried to hate him but never could. So, I ended up with a man who doesn’t even want to be with me, but won’t let me leave. The first time I mentioned leaving, he got angry. The second time, he proposed in front of both of our families at dinner.

I’ll never forget the day I told him I didn’t want to go through with it, that I wanted to take a break. The look in his eyes turned cold, his eyes empty as he told me he’d make sure my reputation as a teacher was ruined before it even began. I believed him, especially since I was a student teacher at the school his mother was in charge of.

He basically told me just to deal with it and my parents seemed to agree. They never take my side in anything, the only person I have is Kelly. She hates Peter, and honestly, sort of hates our parents for it too.

Me too, sis.

“Hi, Avery,” Peter says as he pulls out the chair next to me, not giving me a kiss or anything, just sits down in the spot next to me like we’re casual friends, not two people who are supposed to be planning a wedding together. “I’m sure you remember Mr. Richards, and this is his beautiful daughter, Sofia.”

I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach. This whole situation sucks, being here for my birthday dinner instead of a dive bar in a pair of Converse like I wanted, only to find out it’s a fucking work meeting where he wants to compliment his client’s gorgeous daughter and act like I’m his friend.

This is bullshit.

“Hello, Ms. Walston,” Mr. Richards says, while his daughter just smiles and takes the seat across from Peter.

“Hi,” I muster out as I grab my glass of wine and take a healthy first sip, earning me a side eye I choose to ignore.

“Thank you so much for planning this dinner, I’m looking forward to working together,” Mr. Richards says with a smile before turning to his daughter. “Sofia is going to be taking the lead this time, though, so it’ll be the two of you who will be working together.”

Ugh, if I wasn’t jealous of her beauty before, I am now. Not because she’s done anything wrong—not just because I can see the way my fiancé is looking at her, but because I know damn well he’s imagining what she’d look like naked and on her back.

Our waitress comes over, and I couldn’t be more thankful she’s breaking up this little moment than if I’d been naked running through a parade.

“Hello, everyone, my name is Cindy and I’ll be your server tonight,” she says, and Peter’s eyes immediately find her and do a once over of her body, not bothering to be subtle in the least. The man has never had class, but I, at least, thought he’d fake it around a client. Especially when it’s fucking evident that Mr. Richard’s daughter is interested in him based on the way she’s staring at him.

“Hello, Cindy,” Mr. Richards says politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. We have been looking forward to this dinner.”

Speak for yourself, bucko.

“Are we here tonight celebrating anything, or are we just out for the evening?”

Here we go. This will make the evening.

I can’t help the little smile that plays on my lips as I look over at Peter, hopeful that this evening might at least have a bright spot. But that’s all deflated the second he shakes his head.

“Nope, we are just here tonight celebrating a new partnership,” Peter says, raising his glass to his new partner, and I feel all the blood drain from my face, my jaw slack as the two of them clink their little glasses while his daughter stares heart eyed at my fiancé.

The worst part?

I’m realizing I don’t actually give a fuck that she wants him. Hell, she can have him. I don’t need to be here at a dinner meeting, one he’s made sure I’m never involved with, instead of what I want to be doing to celebrate my birthday.

I shouldn’t be here.

More importantly, I don’t want to be here.

I look down at the table where my hand rests, practically begging for some of his attention and all I can see is this ring he got me he thought would look “classy” and “sophisticated”, but just like the wine, I think it’s fucking pretentious as hell.

It’s at this moment I realize I don’t recognize myself anymore. There’s not a chance in hell I would have let a man run my life like this, so why am I allowing it now? How did I even end up with a man like Peter? There’s nothing about him that’s my type—except that he has a dick. Only, he went a step further and just became a total dick in general, and that, my friends, is a turn off. He just sort of showed up and never left after Harris broke my heart, and I’ll be honest… we just got comfortable.

Then, he got his promotion and he became insufferable. He gained this ego that’s so inflated I’m surprised his feet don’t float off the ground, and with that the manipulation and anger started. And now, I haven’t been able to get myself out of this situation, probably to do with this anchor on my finger.

But I’m done letting this stop me tonight. I want to have fun.

Standing up, I look down at Peter who is in full conversation with his two guests and wait until he notices I’m not sitting perfectly as he expects, his gaze slowly turning to meet mine.

“I’m leaving,” I say confidently, not missing the annoyance in his eyes at my words but at this point I’m not letting this stop me. “I’ll let you get back to your meeting and I’ll just see you back at home.”

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” he asks, his best attempt at being polite to save face, but I can hear the words being spit through his teeth, his knuckles white as they hold his drink, but I know he won’t pull anything while around his clients so I’m in the clear until he’s home.

Ignoring him, I turn to look at Sofia and her dad, John, who are both staring at the two of us like they aren’t quite sure what’s about to happen. “It was very nice to meet you both but I’m going to finish celebrating my birthday and let you guys get back to work. Please enjoy your meal this evening.”

With that, I drain the last of my wine, sophistication be damned, and grab my bag and leave the three of them stunned. Albeit, they don’t let it deter them from their plans for too long because by the time I’m out of the restaurant and peering back inside, I see them laughing and talking already.

Asshole.

Without any real destination in mind, I start down the sidewalk as the craziness of New York occurs around me at 8 p.m. on a Friday. It’s wild. I’ve lived in the city my entire life, and I’m still not quite sure I’m used to the constant chaos of big city life, so I usually avoid it.

That, and Peter has done a great job these last six years of determining what we do and where we go so I’m not well versed on the variety of the city life, and I never cared too much to pay attention to all the places he took me so I’m at square one. When I would go out in college or when I was growing up, we’d go to a couple of different restaurants that I can remember, but none of them are around anymore.

I walk a couple of blocks looking in at different restaurants or cafes, but nothing is really catching my eye. I wish I could call Kelly up to come hang out with me, I’m not the best at doing things alone, but I didn’t want to sit at that dinner for a minute longer, so I guess I’m going to try.

It’s not Kelly’s fault she had to fly with her kids to visit their dad instead of being here with me.

Then I see it. Right in front of my eyes. Hudson’s.

I start walking toward it, pulling out my phone at the same time. I mean, I guess if I’m going to make bad decisions like walking away from Peter in front of a client, I might as well add hanging out with my ex to my list of crimes.

“Avery?” I hear and I look down at my phone because I swear it’s Harris’s voice coming from my phone, but my thumb is hovering over his contact name.

“Avery?” I hear again, but this time a little louder and it sounds even closer.

Turning around, I see Harris crossing the street toward me, his smile practically blinding me and suddenly, I don’t feel as sad as I did ten minutes ago… even if running into him means he’s probably on his way to hang out with someone which means he won’t be able to hang out with me.

Oh, well. At least now I have a destination in mind.

“Oh, hey,” I say with a smile and a little wave, not exactly sure what to do with my hands in this moment.

“Hey, birthday girl. You look beautiful,” he says, and my cheeks heat at the compliment.

The little fact that my ex who broke my heart has not only acknowledged my birthday but has also called me beautiful in the first thirty seconds of our interaction while my fiancé did neither is not lost on me.

I look down and see the dress I put on that’s just a little shorter than I normally would wear but was hoping to turn Peter on tonight. It’s been a while since we’ve been intimate; hell, I can’t even remember the last time we kissed that wasn’t a simple peck in public or in front of an audience to continue our fake united front. But I figured I might as well try to get laid for my birthday.

So, of course, I’d run into this damn sex God. Who did I piss off to get this kind of luck?

“Thanks, I was supposed to be at dinner at Rosario’s,” I tell him, only now noticing how good he looks tonight.

He’s in dark blue jeans and a gray Henley that’s stretched around his biceps reminding me just how strong and muscular this man is. It’s definitely a benefit of fucking a professional athlete.

“Supposed to be?” he says, his eyes raised in question.

“Yeah… let’s just say Peter wasn’t too interested in it being my birthday and was more interested in it being a work meeting… with his clients,” I say, trying to keep my voice cheerful but it really does suck spending an entire day feeling like no one cares it’s your birthday. My parents called, but besides that and the well wishes I got at work, it’s felt really lonely, and I hate that my sadness is probably written all over my face right now.

“Well,” Harris says, his eyes looking down at his phone as he checks the time, “I do know a place up the street that makes their drinks strong, as well as has some of the best food around. Plus… I think their brownie sundae would be a perfect night cap for your birthday, what do you say?”

I want to say yes. The smile on his face, the almost eager, hopefulness in his eyes, I want to. But I shouldn’t, and deep down I know that. I look down at my phone and see that I have seven missed phone calls from Peter and at least that many texts that say “get your ass back and fix this.”

Fuck you, Peter.

Fix it yourself, I’m busy enjoying my birthday.

I turn my phone on silent and throw it in my purse, refusing to let Peter ruin my night any more than I already have. Besides… it looks like I do have plans for my birthday now after all.

“You know what? Let’s go,” I say with a smile that doesn’t feel forced for once.