“I know. It sounds crazy. Reckless, even. But I have to get custody of Cole. He needs me. And God, the court hearing. It was over before it even began. Cece’s lawyer painted me like a walking red flag—business trips, women, tabloids. He made me look irresponsible.”
I almost laugh, because hearing it out loud sounds even stupider than it did that day in court. I point to myself. “Me. Irresponsible. Can you believe that? I run multimillion-dollar companies, but I’m irresponsible?” I scoff, the frustration of it all rising.
Alley gasps. “God, I’m so sorry, Matt. That sucks.”
“Thanks, Al. It does suck.”
I turn to Jensen. He closes his eyes briefly, then shakes his head like he can’t believe this is real. “So you marry the girl you’ve been in love with your whole life?” A laugh slips out of him. “That’s your plan?”
“Don’t fucking do that.” My irritation climbs, and I rake a hand through my hair. “That’s not what this is. Jordan’s a friend helping me get custody of a boy who just lost his father. She’s doing it for Cole. We’ll be divorced in five months when this is over. It’s not that big of a deal.”
But even as I say it, I know it isn’t true. Itisa big deal, and hearing it out loud makes it feel bigger than it did an hour ago.
“It’s not that big of a deal? Do you hear yourself? You just married Jordan. It’sJordan.” His mouth curves as he scoffs. “It’ll all be over in five months. Jesus. Did your dick get the memo?” He laughs again. “You are so fucking screwed, man.” He steals a quick glance at Alley, who’s now staring at him morbidly.
I clench my jaw. I’m used to Jensen poking at me when it comes to Jordan. It’s never bothered me.
It fucking bothers me now.
“Christ. Sorry I told you,” I mutter, grabbing a plate and piling chicken wings onto it, heat blazing through my veins.
Jensen lifts his hands up in mock defense. “Whoa. Sorry. Didn’t know you were so sensitive.” His eyes narrow, like he can’t understand why it’s differentthis time.
Or maybe that look is because he knows exactly why and isn’t going to be the one to say it.
Doesn’t matter.
He doesn’t know the half of it. Doesn’t know that I have to convince a random stranger that our marriage is real. That I’m the best choice for Cole. That Jordan and I agreed not to sleep together. That we’ll have separate rooms in New York.
Shit.Chicago.
We’ll be sharing a bed.
Jesus. I’m fucked.
But this was the best I could do with the time and resources I had.
“I’m not fucking sensitive,” I huff. “I’m just—I’m worried about Cole.”
His face softens, regret flashing across it.
And just like that, I know the topic of the fake marriage is done.
I’m a goddamn mastermind at shutting down shit I don’t want to talk about.
I clapmy hands together hard and whoop at the TV. The Bears just scored another touchdown. The Jets have always been my number one team, but the Bears are a close second, and the Jets aren’t playing.
This is just what I needed after this weekend—football, beer, my friends—aside from the confrontation from Jensen earlier. No big deal. It’s how we roll. We call bullshit when we see it. I did when he was fucked up and using. More than once. This time, it’s his turn.
I take a swig of the craft IPA Jensen picked up for me. I don’t need to drink while watching the game, especially when he’s not. But I’m never turning down a local beer, and Chicago has some of the best.
On that note, I reach inside my jacket and pull out a box, one my assistant gift-wrapped for me. I hold it out to Jensen. “Here. I got this for you.”
His brows furrow. “What’s this for?”
“I missed your one-year sobriety. It was the day after Nate died, and I just… sort of spaced it. But I’d planned to give this to you.” I smack my hand against his back. “Sorry I’m late, but proud of you, brother. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, man.” He takes it from me, tearing the paper off and opening the box. He pulls out the custom-made watch, eyes widening. It’s no high-end brand. He’d be weird about accepting something like that. But it’s nice. Expensive and luxurious for most people.
