TWENTY-THREE
Colton
The grass looks unreal. Too green, too even—like Riley’s paying way too much money to keep it that way. Livy doesn’t notice any of it. The second she spots the playground behind the house, she’s gone—running straight toward Rory, who’s already climbing his pirate tower.
I watch her for a second, then glance over.
Jenna’s right next to me. Closer than she needs to be. Close enough that if one of us moved even a little, our hands would touch.
We don’t. But it’s… noticeable. The space, I mean. Like we’re both aware of it and just choosing to ignore it. Which would be easier if I wasn’t so aware of her in general.
Even after that shower, my body betrayed me the second she stepped out onto the porch. She’s wearing this yellow summer dress with tiny pink flowers scattered across it, her red hair twisted up into a knot that shows off her pretty neck. I can’t decide where to look—her face, the thirty-two freckles, the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, her perky boobs, or the way her dress shows how her butt curves with nothing left to the imagination.
My eyes keep jumping around, like they can’t settle on one perfect thing. This isn’t just about that kiss anymore, or the marriage certificate with both our names on it. Something’s shifted. Every time she laughs, every time she moves, I feel it like a physical pull. It’s like some primal part of my brain has decided she’s mine now, and it won’t let me forget it for a second. But then there’s this thought again. The tiny thought that somehow makes me proud and even more horny at the same time.
She really is mywife.
My stupid cock twitches and I want to kill it.
“Your daughter moves like a hockey player,” Jenna says.
“Good balance.” I nod, grateful for the neutral topic.Just don’t smile at me, please. I don’t know what I’ll do if she does. “Strong legs.”
“She doesn’t get the grace from you, that’s for sure.”
Since the kiss, there’s been a cautiousness between us—a new layer of awkwardness. It’s throwing me off balance more than any body check ever could.
The garden stretches out before us, transformed by string lights that crisscross over our heads. The air smells like honeysuckle and expensive wine. Riley and Liora have gone all out. They like to have parties and invite their friends.
I spot them across the lawn—Riley’s tall figure easy to pick out even in a crowd, Liora beside him in a blue flowing dress—both of them laughing at something Jay is saying.
Jay’s our assistant coach now.
He’ suffered from a very bad injury last year. We almost lost him twice. First because of the severe crash, and second because he was so depressed from not being able to play hockey that he almost drowned himself in alcohol.
His girlfriend and Riley’s sister Rosalie saved him, and we all couldn’t thank her enough for it. Now he laughs like nothing happened, his hand intertwined in hers as he gives her littlekisses on her shoulder. Next to them sits Priya. She’s Liora’s best friend and a professional figure skater. She waves the minute she sees us, her dark falling long over her shoulders that matches her skin.
And that’s about it. My team. My inner circle. The closest thing to family I have in America besides my parents and Livy.
And now I’m bringing Jenna in. And it’s all fake…
“Nervous?” Jenna asks quietly, seeming to read my thoughts.
I roll my shoulders back, standing a little straighter. “No.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. She’s gotten too good at spotting my tells. “Colton.”
“Maybe,” I admit. “These people... they matter. And they know something is up, otherwise they wouldn’t have invited us today. It feels like an intervention.”
She nods once. “Yeah, but Ethan said we should tell them all, so they can help us. This feels like a good opportunity.” That’s why she said yes to coming along. She doesn’t have to play my wife when it’s not for show. The media already ate it up.
As we approach the table, every eye turns our way. Jenna’s hand brushes against mine but I’m back to my usual self. The one that doesn’t really speak. The reserved Russian.
“There they are!” Riley exclaims, smiling as always. Like he’s on a toothpaste commercial. He pulls Jenna into an unexpected hug. “The woman who finally got our Russian bear to settle down.”
I watch Jenna carefully, wondering if she’ll flinch at the sudden contact. Instead, she laughs—a real laugh, not the tight professional one she uses in meetings—and hugs Riley back.
“So, you do know we’re married,” Jenna says.
