Page 48

Cash holds a hand out to help me out of the truck, and I set mine in his. He helps me down, and he leans in close so I can hear him over the voices shouting for our attention. “Just smile, okay? And breathe.”

I glance up at him, and I have the urge to pull him down and kiss him—to give the paparazzi surrounding us something to really photograph.

I fight the urge. I wish I hadn’t.

We make it into the restaurant fairly unscathed except for the questions that were hurled at us. Cash gives his name, and the hostess immediately recognizes him. And ogles him. Like…I’m his wife, and I’m standing right freaking here, but she doesn’t seem to care.

I link my arm through his and lean in close, giving the fakest smile I can muster to the hostess, who eventually takes the hint and starts leading us to our table. It’s loud in here. Too loud to have the quiet conversation that I need to have with him. I have private things to discuss that I don’t want to shout. I don’t want to run the risk of anyone else overhearing us.

So I’m incredibly grateful when we’re taken into a private room with just one table. The room has French doors on it, and the tempered glass panels give us privacy.

He nods for me to sit first, and I choose one of the chairs. He takes the other, and I feel like I’m vibrating with excitement that I’m here on a date with this incredibly hot hockey player. And I’m married to him. The simple band on my left finger proves that.

I haven’t taken it off, but I did spend a good bit of time staring at it earlier today.

A server is waiting to help, and as soon as we’re seated, he starts his spiel. “Welcome. I’m Javi, your server this evening, along with Mira. We’ll be serving you from our prix fixe menu, and Mira will be in shortly. Please take a look at the menu and select one from each of the four courses. We have reserve pairings next to each option, so do let us know if you’d prefer another beverage.”

He went with the prix fixe with alcohol. This dude is a smooth operator. And here I thought I’d order some fettuccine and a vodka Sprite with cherries.

He’s full of surprises.

Mira brings our aperitivo, Javi returns with our first round, and then we’re left alone for a few minutes to enjoy the first course.

But I can’t enjoy anything until I get this off my chest.

“Can we talk?” I blurt.

He glances up, and he sets his fork down. “I think we need to.”

I nod, and I press my lips together. “Okay. I’ll go first. So I know what we did was crazy and spontaneous. But…” I trail off, and then I draw in a deep breath.

“Look, everyone in my family still treats me like a child, and I’m sick of it. But if, according to my sister, I keep acting like a child, they’re all going to keep treating me like one. I swear to God, Ev is more like a damn mother than a sister, and imagine having five older brothers who all think they can boss you around like they’re your dad. And getting married drunk in Vegas to a virtual stranger doesn’t exactly scream to the point I’m trying to make.”

I shrug as I break up the rambling.

“So I guess I’m stuck in a bit of a place where I’m trying to prove to my family that this is real, that I’m an adult, that they can all back off. Saying it now sounds completely ridiculous, but, Cash, if there’s any way you’re open to it, I’d love if we could stay married at least for a little while. It’s fine if you say no, and we can agree to no feelings or whatever…” I trail off when I note that he’s staring at me like I’ve grown two heads.

“That was a lot. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I even asked,” I say softly. God, imagine if I brought up the fact that Ev told me to move out, too. How embarrassing for me.

He shakes his head. “No. It’s not that. I just…” He trails off. “I thought I was going to have to convince you to stay in this with me for a while.”

My brows push together. “What?”

“I can’t disappoint my mom,” he confesses. “And I also have a morality clause in my endorsements. They’ll pull my money if we so much as hint at the idea that it wasn’t real from the start.”

My jaw slackens at his honesty—and the fact that he can’t disappoint his mom. I mean…how adorable is that?

“Well, okay, then,” I say. “I think we both have our own reasons to stay in this. We sell this thing for a few months, and then we can either part ways or figure things out from there.” I lift a shoulder. I don’t know how to say let’s date while we’re married, so I try to keep things simple and toss the ball into his court.

He shakes his head. “No. I want a year…or at least through the end of next season if you’re okay with that. I can have my lawyer draw up an agreement for us, and you can have whoever you want review it. I think no feelings is probably the right way to handle it. Oh, and you should probably move in with me so we can really sell it.”

I start to laugh. It’s not like a little chuckle or a small giggle. It’s a full-on, hysterical laugh.

He’s giving me that same look like I’ve grown two heads.

Maybe I have.

“Um…do you not want to move in?” he asks.