Page 48 of Put a Rink on It

Before she can say anything, Ma’s brand-new SUV pulls into the driveway, parking behind my car. She’s out in a flash, joining our group, a similar smirk to Nero’s on her mouth. “Nero. Long time no see.”

“Mama K, so good to see you. It’s been way too long in person.” He folds himself around Ma, not allowing his towering height to get in the way. “Let’s go inside. I brought maple scones.” Ma’s brows rise at the mention of her favorite snack.

The man is super smooth, and his “I got this” will hopefully ring true. When did he even have time to stop for those, especially since he wasn’t aware Ma would be here.

Ma’s gaze volleys between Nero and me, sizing us up. “You’re sure you didn’t knock my daughter up?”

Nero’s gasp pierces the quiet air. He stands rooted to the ground, faltering for a comeback, like he’s frozen at the blue line.

“I’m not pregnant, Ma.” My tone’s slightly bitter because before my biological clock runs out, I want to be pregnant. Seems like with the current state of affairs, it’s another thing to kick down the road. “Let’s talk inside.” I wave my hand, the one still currently wearing the ring, a detail Ma doesn’t miss. Because, of course not.

She grabs my wrist and stares at the beautiful diamond. She’s silent for a long time, and, like with Juliet before, I can’t predict how she’ll react.

“This looks real,” are the first words out of her mouth as she pegs Nero with a glare.

“Of course it’s real. Why would I buy my fiancée a fake ring?” Nero defends.

“Your what?” Ma squeals.

“Isn’t this the most unbelievable?” Juliet chirps. “They went and got engaged and we didn’t even know they were dating!” I hate how there’s still a twinge of anger in her articulation. It’s less than earlier, but it’s going to take more than lunch, cookies, and some alcohol for her to get over this.

Which I understand. If I put myself in her shoes, I’d be mad, too.

It’s too late to change it now, so I shove those thoughts aside and usher them all into my house. “Drinks?”

“Coffee for me, please,” Nero orders.

“I’ll have the same,” Mom confirms.

“Ettie?”

Juliet glances at her watch. “I need another margarita, but if that’s not doable, any alcoholic beverage will do.” She flops down onto the couch, digging her phone out of her pocket. “I’ll text Hunter to pick me up later in case you’re also indulging in alcohol.” She directs her comment my way, the dig not lost on me.

“I can drop you home when we’re done,” Ma suggests.

“Okay, fine. That works.”

With that decided, I head for the kitchen, my fingers a little unsteady as I dump the beans into the grinder.

“You can do this,” I mutter. “It’s not like it’s a bad thing. You’re not going to jail, and no one is dead. You’re getting married. So what you didn’t let them in on the secret until now? This isn’t the end of the world. If Ma can forgive Walsh for getting his girlfriend pregnant at sixteen, she’ll forgive you now.”

“I’m more hurt than angry,” Ma states quietly behind me. So enthralled in my woes, she snuck into the kitchen without me realizing it.

I do my best to mask the surprise, only turning around when I can face her without the threat of crying or divulging the truth.

“I’m sorry. It just kinda happened. We didn’t want the entire world to know our business, so we kept it under wraps.”

Her expression falls the moment I speak the words “entire world.”

Even without her saying it, she and my family aren’t the entire world. Not even close.

“It’s my fault, Millie.” Nero materializes in the kitchen. “When we first started dating, I didn’t want the pressure of being the girlfriend of a professional athlete on Marina’s shoulders, so we didn’t tell anyone. It kinda snowballed from there. By the time I realized I couldn’t spend my life without her, it made more sense to announce our engagement and our relationship.”

The more he talks, the less fake it feels. As much as he’s lying, his words are genuine, honest, and don’t sound practiced at all. Hell, I almost believe it could have happened that way.

I’ve never known Nero to be dishonest or untrustworthy, so this isn’t who he is, but he’s selling it for us, his “I got this” making so much sense.

“How long?” Ma prods. “How long have you been dating my daughter in secret?” Her tone is a cross between anger, confusion, and sadness.