“I know, it’s ridiculous how predictable she is.”
“Well,” Jenna sighs. “That was…”
“Simply Mira,” I finish for her, as if her name alone explains everything. In a way, it really does.
This shitshow lasts ten more moments but Mira can’t find a single thing that screams “fake marriage” and she thankfully decides to leave us alone again.
We hear an exaggerated “Goodbye, baby!” and she’s gone.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was coming.”
“That was her plan… but it’s good that we… we…” Jenna pauses, and I notice her cheeks flush. I can’t help but grin as I gently grasp her chin. “Solnyshko, you’re not telling me that our little couch moment makes you blush, are you?”
She looks away, but a small smile betrays her. “Colton, I… I’m sorry.”
“And now you think I didn’t enjoy it? Sometimes you’re a bit delusional, you know that?” Her green gaze flicks up to meet mine.
“It makes everything more complicated.”
“It just saved us. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if she’d caught us sleeping in different beds.”
“Daddy! I’m finished!” Livy screams, and for some reason, I jerk upright. I’m touching my wife—not a stranger. Not anymore. “Coming!” I call back.
“I need to hurry up, anyway,” Jenna says. “I need to change before heading to the office.”
And so, we stand awkwardly facing each other, unsure how to say goodbye now. Kiss? Hug? Have things changed.
I don’t know, and I think Jenna doesn’t either. She simply smiles and retreats back to her room.
THIRTY
Colton
Riley takes a deep, deep breath. “You kissed her, or what? Colton, we can’t figure out what’s going on with you until you start using actual words.”
He leans against the row of metal lockers, tugging at the collar of his sweat-soaked shirt. Steam still drifts from the shower drains, and the distant clang of weights dribbles through the air.
I peel off my jersey, the damp fabric clinging to my back. Only days remain until our first game, and nobody—Thompson, Mercer, Jay, anyone—feels sharp or ready. But here we are. That kiss, or the dry hump whatever, happened a week ago. Since then, Jenna and I behave like freshmen who discovered gravity and don’t know what to do with it.
We collide in narrow doorways: me spilling her coffee, her yanking my helmet when I pass. One night she grinded her body against mine. The next she avoided my gaze altogether, talking only about our case. It’s nerve-wracking. Especially since everything else seems to be working out so well. Even Child Services visited us in the evening without any prior notice.
We cooked for Livy, and it felt like a perfect family dinner. Livy told them how great things are and that she wants to stay with us instead of her mother, and everything seemed so good. Jenna takes care of Livy when I can’t, and she does it flawlessly. Each time I see my kid smile at her, I’m in awe and want to kiss Jenna even more. But when I turn to her, grinning like the fool I am, she looks away. It’s as if I suddenly became unkissable or something. And I’m too shy to ask what went wrong.
Jay slips in next to us, the blue whistle dangling from his coach’s polo. “Is he actually going to talk this time? Don’t want to miss it.” He nudges Riley with an elbow.
“There’s nothing to hear,” I mutter.
“Notnothing. He has aproblem,” Riley says flatly, folding his arms.
“Well, then talk,” Jay urges. “Come on. What’s up?”
I run a hand along my jaw. All week I tried to sort out this mess alone—me. My fake wife at home who looks at me like I’m her favorite popsicle, then vanishes like a bad Snapchat filter. Maybe it’s time for back-up. “Fine. But make it quick.”
Riley jabs Jay in the ribs, grinning.
I grunt. “Don’t do this.”
“Do what?” Riley cocks an eyebrow.
