Only One Night (Only One 3)

“Sorry for what, exactly?”

It’s a loaded question. “For a lot of things but most of all for the way you found out like that.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Okay, not the best thing to say.”

“Why don’t I do the talking?” she suggests. “Whatever happened between us on Saturday,” she points at her and then me, “it’s between us. It will not go anywhere.” I take a step toward her, and she snaps. “You’re married!” she yells. “Married!” She puts her hands to her stomach. “Do you know how that makes me feel?” Her eyes turn a bright green, and I want to hold her face in my hands and kiss her lips and tell her everything, tell her every single fucking thing. “You cheated on your wife, and I helped you.” She shakes her head. “Married . . . you are married.”

It’s now or never. “I don’t tell anyone my business,” I say. “I’m the most private person you will ever meet. My name is Manning Stevenson, and I play hockey for the Dallas Oilers. I’m their captain.”

“Oh my god.” She puts her hand to her lips. “That’s why the bartender called you captain.”

“Yes,” I say. “I’m not on social media. I keep to myself, and the only time I do interviews is after the game or when it has to do with the foundation or children. That night when I went to the restaurant . . . I want you to know that what we had, what we shared . . .” I try to find the words.

“Was all a lie,” she tells me, and I see the tears in her eyes. “The whole week, I thought about you. The whole week, the only thing I regretted was not staying with you that morning.” She swallows, and I can see the one tear got out. “But now I regret it all. You made me be the person I hate most in the world. You made me a home-wrecker.” She puts her hands to her stomach.

“You are not a home-wrecker,” I say. “I swear to you with everything that I have, you are not a home-wrecker. Murielle and I . . .” I run my hands through my hair, scared to tell her, scared to see the pity that might wash over her face. Most of all, I’m scared she won’t believe me. But I have no choice because I will not let her beat herself down. “You are the opposite of a home-wrecker. There isn’t even a home to wreck.” I see the confusion on her face. “Are Murielle and I married?” The words are bitter in my mouth but not more bitter than the next word that comes out, “Yes. But . . .”

She shakes her head. “There are no buts,” she tells me and walks past me to the door, opening it for me. “Good-bye, Manning.”

Chapter 14

Evelyn

“Good-bye, Manning,” I tell him. My heart is not sure it can take much more of him being here. Standing here in front of me, knowing that he can never be mine. Knowing that he was never mine to begin with. Knowing that our night together was just another night for him.

I look at him, and he looks just as broken as I do, and I wonder why. Is it because he’s scared I’ll tell his wife? Is it because he’s scared I’ll tell my brother? “Everything that I told you last week was the truth,” he says. His voice comes out strong, and his feet don’t move toward the door. “Before Saturday, I was existing.” I look at him, not sure what he means. “Last Saturday was the first time in a long time that I put myself before anyone else. It was the first time that I saw that I deserve it. I deserve to have something for me.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” I tell him honestly. “If you are worried about me telling anyone about us”—I shake my head— “I won’t tell anyone what happened between us.” I look to see if maybe he does a sigh of relief, but he doesn’t even flinch with this news. “Is that why you kept looking around on Saturday?” I ask as the pieces of the puzzle come together now.

“I kept looking around because one, I hate to be exploited, and two, I wanted to protect you and not have you plastered all over social media,” he says. “Do you know how amazing it was that you liked me for me?” he asks, and I don’t answer. “It just made everything.” His voice trails off. “Everything that night was perfect.”

“Do you know why I moved back home?” I ask, and he just looks at me. “Because I walked in on my boyfriend balls deep into his business partner while my best friend rode his face,” I tell him. “I’m that person.” I point at myself. “You made me that person. You.” I point at him, and then at myself. “You made me just like her. You made me that person I hate,” I tell him. “You made me a liar and a cheater!” I shout. “I’m just as bad as her.”