Page 22 of Put a Rink on It

An internal freakout begins, more for Marina’s sake than mine. Next thing I know, the information will be out on the internet for anyone to see, before we’ve told our families. Great.

“Oh, we’re not married,” Marina states convincingly, though it is a true statement. We aren’t. Despite what I told my teammates last night. Not yet, anyway. “It’s a game he likes to play with all the ladies. See who gives it up first. Isn’t that right, Nero?” She cocks her head toward me, her eyes batting coyly. “Did I pass today’s test?”

She makes it too easy.

“With flying colors. We’ll talk about your prize in the car.”

And because I can, I lean in, crowding her personal space. Ignoring the daggers aimed my way, my lips meet her forehead, lingering way longer than appropriate for where our friendship’s at. Made even better by the hitch in her breath.

Perhaps blurting I have a—fake—wife is less of a mistake and more of a gain.

CHAPTER 8

marina

“So, rumor has it a hunky hockey player was in town last week.” Juliet nails me when I enter my parents’ house. “Is he all settled in Connecticut?”

“He’s getting there,” I reply, not wanting to answer her questions about Nero. Normally, I wouldn’t mind, but after this past week, I’m not sure which end is up regarding him or our relationship. Mostly because I’m still confused as shit about what we’re planning to do.

Pretending to be engaged.

Getting “fake” married.

Me moving to Connecticut to be with him.

The notion is so raw and unbelievable to me.

I hate how I can’t even talk about it with my coworkers or Juliet or my mom. Especially my mom. While I haven’t avoided her per se, I haven’t made it a point to see her.

But tonight’s a family dinner at their house, and I had no excuse for not showing up.

Juliet follows me to the kitchen, where I say hello to Ma with a kiss on her cheek and Tate, who’s busy at the stove.

“What smells so delicious?”

“Chili,” Ma answers.

“Yum. Can I help?”

“You can put the salad together,” Tate suggests, peering over her shoulder. “Everything’s cut up, but it needs to be put into the bowl.”

“I can do that.”

“Are you enjoying having him on the same coast? The same time zone.” Juliet’s comments get lost on me. Until I realize she’s talking about Nero.

“It’s been like a week. Besides his surprise visit, I’m not sure I’ve talked to him anymore.” I didn’t end up going to visit last weekend because something came up at work. He understood, but the letdown in his expression was palpable through the phone screen.

Juliet raises a brow, and I know I gave up my spot. “You didn’t know he was coming?”

“Nope.”

“And what did he come for?”

To ask me to be his fake wife.

I bite my tongue so the words don’t unintentionally slip out of my mouth. When I trust myself not to spill the beans, I say, “To take me to breakfast.”

“He came all this way for breakfast?” Tate wonders.