Page 107 of Holding Penalty

“Not great.” His voice sounds so exhausted. “Aiden told me she doesn’t really do anything with him all day. She just lets him watch YouTube Shorts on her iPad. So, he just sits there and doesn’t talk or interact with anyone when he’s with her.” He scrubs his hand over his face. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to get him to stop doing. The boy hardly talks. Barely even to the child therapist.”

I try to lighten the mood with a little joke. “Don’t want it to be like father, like son, huh?”

Vaughn’s eyes expand, and he lets out a sharp breath. “Fuck, no. I don’t.”

There’s gravity in Vaughn’s voice, like he’s taking his responsibility as a parent seriously. Like he wants to make sure his son ends up as well-adjusted as possible, despite whatever he’s gone through.

With that mindset and determination, I’m confident he’ll succeed. I truly believe Vaughn and Aiden will get through this adjustment period and thrive. But it probably won’t be an easy journey to get there. How could it be?

I try to chat a bit more with Vaughn to get his mind off his worries, but his grunts and monosyllabic answers tell me he’s even less in the mood to talk than he normally is.

I settle into my seat and relax. With my eyes closed, an idea forms in my head, influenced by thinking about Vaughn and his son.

Me, Piper, and kids of our own.

An easy smile warms my face. I let the fantasy play out, visualizing the possible futures that Piper and I might have together.

No matter what kind of future we end up with, as long as we end up with it, as long as it’s me and Piper together, I’ll be happy.

51

PIPER

Christmas and the New Year passed, and so did the six-month mark of this marriage that brought me my inheritance.

I bought the bakery from Jeanette, she retired, and now I’m the free-and-clear owner of my dream business.

Speaking of Christmas, I stop as I pass the mantle place where we’ve put a framed picture of the Christmas cards we sent out to friends and family.

A tiny laugh comes to my throat as I smile at it. Hallie took a portrait of me, Nash, and Cheesecake posing together in front of the house like we’re a real family.

I guess we are, just a highly unconventional one. A fake-married couple who ended up falling in love for real, and their not-quite-pet capybara who comes and goes according to her own whim.

Not the life I imagined living, but there’s nothing I’d trade it for.

It’s been a couple months since I got my money. For all intents and purposes, Nash and I don’t have to be married anymore. But we’re staying together. I’m more in love than I’ve ever been, and my relationship with Nash is perfect. It’s just … weird that it’s still technically a marriage that started as a lie.

Do we just turn to each other one day and ask if we want to … stay married? Would that be the equivalent of getting married for real, in our circumstances? Should we plan a vow renewal ceremony sometime and consider that our real wedding, between the two of us?

Fuck if I know.

I huff another laugh and tilt my shoulder. Maybe this clusterfuck is just part of the charm of my and Nash’s relationship. I’ll embrace the chaos.

Chaotic is exactly what it’s been in both our lives lately. The hockey season is intensifying with playoffs looming, and Nash has been insanely busy. So have I, working on expanding the bakery and getting used to being an owner.

We have a relatively relaxed couple days ahead of us, though. Nash has one home game the day after tomorrow and then an unusual number of days off. The bakery is closed while we’re adding new seating space. I’ll just drop in now and then to check in on the construction, but I won’t have a full day’s work to do until it’s done.

Nash walks out of our bedroom, pulling on one of his checkered shirts and rolling up the sleeves. He jingles his keys in his hand. “Let’s go for a drive.”

There’s a knowing spark of excitement in his eyes that makes my stomach swoop with anticipation. I can tell he’s got something planned.

We hop into his truck, and a little while later, we’re pulling up at the side of a road we both know very well.

“What are we doing here?” I ask. This is the road that Nash picked me up on all those months ago, after I smashed up Crew’s phone and stomped out of the limo.

Nash opens his door and steps out. I join him, underneath the bright sun and stark blue sky.

“This is it,” he says, stepping from the shoulder of the road onto the sparse grass covering the dirt. “This is the exact spot.”