Three Years Later

POV: Audrey

"Mommy, is the tall building where the hockey men live?" Ethan asks from the backseat, pressing his small hands flat against the car window while Boston slides past in a blur of steel and glass, and I grip the steering wheel tighter, because three years ago I left this city in the dark with a suitcase and a secret, and now I am driving back into it in daylight with a company that carries my name.

"Not exactly, baby, that building is where the hockey men work, and today Mommy has a meeting there," I say, keeping my voice light as my eyes flick to the rearview mirror, where my son stares back at me with dark, steady eyes that I have spent three years trying not to recognize.

"Will there be cookies at the meeting?" Ethan asks, kicking his little sneakers against the seat.

"I will make sure there are cookies," I promise, and he grins, and the grin hits me right in the chest, because it is Roman's grin, crooked on one side, and no amount of distance or money or time has ever managed to erase it.

Marcus, my chief operating officer, meets us in the lobby of the Vipers headquarters with a leather folder tucked under his arm, and he takes one look at my face and lowers his voice.

"You do not have to walk into that room, Audrey, because I can handle the Vipers contract, and nobody would blame you for staying in the car," Marcus says quietly.

"Hayes Performance Group was hired to fix their injury crisis, Marcus, and I built this company from nothing so that I would never have to hide from anyone again," I reply, straightening my blazer as the elevator doors slide open in front of us.

"Then at least tell me you are going to leave the child with the assistant," Marcus says, glancing down at Ethan, who is happily swinging my hand back and forth.

"The daycare on the executive floor cannot take him until eleven, and I refuse to leave him with a stranger, so he stays with me for the first ten minutes," I say, and Marcus lets out a slow breath that tells me exactly what he thinks of that decision.

The ride up feels endless, and I count the floors the way I used to count contractions, one breath at a time, until the doors open onto a long corridor lined with framed photographs of championship banners, and I walk past every one of them without looking, because I already know whose name is written on the trophy case at the end of the hall.

"Ms. Hayes, the ownership group is ready for you in the boardroom," a young assistant says, holding the heavy glass door open with a nervous smile.

"Thank you," I say, and I push my shoulders back, take Ethan's hand, and walk into the room with my heart pounding so hard I am certain everyone at the long table can hear it.

The conference room is full of men in expensive suits, and none of them matter, because at the far end of the table, standing beside the window with one hand braced against the glass, is a man whose back I would recognize in a crowd of ten thousand.

"Gentlemen, our consultant has arrived," the team physician announces, and the man at the window turns around.

Roman Hayes looks exactly the way he did in my nightmares, tall and severe in a charcoal suit, his jaw sharper now, shadows carved under his eyes like he has not slept properly in years, and when his gaze lands on my face, every ounce of color drains out of his skin.

"Audrey," he says, and my name comes out of his mouth like something torn loose, so low and rough that the men at the table stop mid-sentence and look between us.

"Mr. Hayes," I say, and I am proud of how steady it sounds, because I have practiced those two words in the mirror for a month. "I am Audrey Hayes, founder and CEO of Hayes Performance Group, and I am here to present your injury reduction plan."

"You kept the name," Roman says, ignoring the room, ignoring the papers, ignoring everything except me.

"I kept the name because it was the only thing you ever gave me that I did not have to give back," I say quietly, and I watch the words land, watch his throat move as he swallows, and I hate that some small traitorous part of me aches to see him flinch.

"Mommy, is this the meeting?" Ethan asks, tugging on my sleeve and looking up at the giant room full of strangers.

The silence that follows is so complete I can hear the air vents humming above us.

Roman looks down, and I see the exact second it happens, because his eyes drop to the small boy holding my hand, and everything in his face stops, the anger, the shock, the careful control he has worn like armor his whole life, all of it simply stops, and what is left is a man staring at his own eyes looking back at him from a three-year-old's face.

"Who is this?" Roman asks, and his voice cracks down the middle on the last word.

"This is my son," I say, and I curl my hand protectively around Ethan's shoulder, because I promised myself I would never let Roman Hayes take one more thing from me.

"How old is he?" Roman whispers, taking one slow step forward, and the men at the table suddenly find their tablets fascinating.

"He is almost three, and this is not the time or the place, Mr. Hayes," I say, lifting my chin as my pulse roars in my ears.

"Almost three," Roman repeats, and I watch him do the math, watch the calendar collapse in his mind, watch him count backward to the night I left my ring on his desk. "Audrey, tell me he is mine."

"I said this is not the time," I tell him, but my voice trembles, because Ethan is staring up at Roman with open curiosity, and my son has never once been afraid of a stranger.

"You have my eyes," Ethan says suddenly, pointing a small finger up at Roman with the fearless honesty only a child possesses. "Mommy says I have my daddy's eyes, are you my daddy's friend?"

Roman makes a sound I have never heard from him before, something between a laugh and a sob, and he drops to one knee right there on the boardroom carpet in front of the whole ownership group, his expensive suit be damned, so that he is level with the little boy staring at him.

"What is your name?" Roman asks, and his hands are shaking, actually shaking, hanging uselessly at his sides as if he is afraid to touch something that might disappear.

"Ethan Hayes," Ethan says proudly. "I am two and three quarters."

"Ethan," Roman says, and he closes his eyes for one brief second, like the name is a prayer he has waited three years to hear. "That is a very good name."

"Roman, that is enough," I say, stepping between them and pulling Ethan against my leg, because I can feel my composure cracking and I refuse to fall apart in front of these men. "Marcus, please take Ethan down to the daycare on the executive floor and tell them I will be there shortly."

"Audrey, wait," Roman says, rising slowly to his feet, and the boardroom feels like it has shrunk to the small space between us. "You cannot walk in here after three years and walk out again without telling me the truth."

"The truth?" I ask, and a bitter laugh escapes me as Marcus gently leads a confused Ethan out through the glass doors. "You want the truth, Roman? You had three years to look for it, and the night I left, you stood in a hallway and let me go."

"I did not let you go, I chased you to the airport," Roman says, stepping closer, his voice raw. "I stood in that terminal and watched the board clear your flight, and I have spent every day since then looking for you."

"You looked for me after you found out you were wrong," I say, keeping my voice low so only he can hear, though I can feel every man in the room straining to listen. "You did not look for me when I stood in your kitchen asking you to believe me, and that is the only night that ever mattered."

"You are right," Roman says, and he does not defend himself, does not argue, does not reach for his usual weapons of authority and control, and the plain honesty of it nearly undoes me. "I was a coward, and I trusted a screen over my own wife, and there is not a single day I have not hated myself for it."

"Save it for someone who needs your apology," I say, gathering my folder from the table with fingers that will not stop trembling. "I am here to fix your players' injuries, Mr. Hayes, and once my contract is finished, I am going home with my son."

"Our son," Roman says softly.

The two words hit me harder than any accusation ever did, and I stand frozen for one long breath, staring at the man I once loved more than my own life, before I turn toward the door.

"We will discuss my presentation on Monday, gentlemen," I announce to the room, and I walk out with my head high and my eyes burning, and it is only when the elevator doors close behind me that I finally let myself lean against the cold steel wall and whisper what I could never say out loud.

"He has his father's eyes, and God help me, I still cannot look into them without wanting to forgive him."