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CHAPTER NINETEEN

carter

The game against Buffalo was exhausting but invigorating. They brought the fucking heat tonight. We won. Obviously.

I’ve just finished my shower when I find an unexpected text waiting for me.

The guys are shooting the shit after that win, but I’ve been checking my phone twenty-four-seven since I left that hospital, so finally seeing her name on the screen makes my adrenaline peak and takes every morsel of my attention.

Arden

Question. Is there ever a game when you aren’t hauled off to the penalty box at least once?

I smirk, surprised she watched at all. It was twice tonight, but who's counting? I stood over Gunner after I pummeled him to the ground, grinning down at him for having the balls to try and take me on. I hope she saw that.

Arden

Also, could you swing by after you're done? I want to talk about your offer.

It’s the second text that has my heart racing.

That conversation in the cafeteria was my last chance, I felt it.

I offered a deal so sweet, so ridiculously beneficial, that she’d be silly not to take it.

If Arden doesn’t agree to this, there is no world where she ever signs up for this whole scheme at all.

I might just get lucky here.

I tend to go straight back to the condo after weekday games on home ice.

If I’m not going right to bed, I’m cracking a beer and playing a few hours of Call of Duty with the boys.

Weekend games are a bit different. I like to enjoy my free time, and my favourite way to do that is going out with my buddies, spending time with beautiful women, and holding a frosty drink in my hand.

It’s a Monday.

I don’t do things on Mondays. Apparently, I’ll forgo my routine if it involves meeting up with pretty redheads who have pouty, perfect lips.

Me

Absolutely. Want dinner? I’m starving.

I haul my clothes out of my stall and start pulling them on, my head buzzing too loud to tune into the chatter around me.

Saltzy’s talking quietly to Lowesy a few feet away.

It looks serious, and Declan’s nodding along, but he’s wearing that expression he usually wears when Saltzy starts pissing him off.

Cap’s a difficult nut to crack. Sometimes, it feels like you’re talking to a machine. Lowesy hates that.

Boss is on my other side, fully dressed already, nose buried in his phone. Reno and Lark are trying to talk to him, but he’s become a professional at ignoring them now that they’re technically not rookies and have become less scared of him.

My phone vibrates again.

Arden

No, that’s fine.

I shake my head at nobody. What’s with women and their inability to make a choice when it comes to food?

Me

Fine. Hypothetically, which would you prefer? Chinese, burritos, or sushi?

Those three bubbles pop up in our chat, and fuck me, my heart does a little swoop. She makes me nervous. Me. Nervous . She has all the power here. I have nothing but hope.

It’s a bit strange, isn’t it? Being so far away from someone, but knowing they’re doing the exact same thing you are in this very moment. That they are staring at this same thread of messages, these words that you’re constructing for each other, trying to figure out what to say next.

I watch, facing my stall in nothing but my underwear and my dress shirt. Those three dots stare at me for minutes . Literally minutes. I don’t know what the hell she could be typing out, but my question wasn’t that complicated.

“All good?” Lowesy asks me, finally breaking away from Cap.

I glance over my shoulder at him. “What? Yeah.”

He nods toward my phone. “You’re staring at that like it has the power to ruin your life.”

It does.

“Just Arden,” I say, lowering my voice.

His brows skyrocket. “She’s choosing to talk to you? That’s good. ”

I don’t tell him that I practically forced her hand. That’s a need-to-know detail.

“She wants me to go over tonight to talk about our…relationship,” I tell him carefully.

My phone buzzes. I jump to look at it.

Arden

Sushi. Don’t skimp out on the spicy mayo.

Declan breathes a laugh, watching my face light up. He shakes his head and slaps me on the shoulder. “Good luck, Fork.”

Not only do I show up with enough sushi to feed the entire apartment complex, I bring a bottle of red, too. For Red. That’s what she picked at Lowesy’s house, so I assume it’s a favourite. I’m sweetening this deal in whatever way that I can.

She opens the door wearing an oversized sweater and black leggings. Her red hair is pulled up on the top of her head in a messy bun. She looks from the sushi in my hands to my face, but then she gives me a once-over from head to toe from behind her black-rimmed glasses.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

I cock a brow. “It’s a game day. We wear suits.”

And I look hot as hell, thank you very much.

“You didn’t change before you came here?”

“I had to grab the food.”

She stares at me for a moment, looking like she’s regretting inviting me over at all, but after a second of consideration, she nods and steps aside to let me into her apartment. I catch that little eye roll as she does, like showing up dressed like this was a tactic to win her over .

It wasn’t intentional, but like I said, I look damn good. If it works, it works.

I glance around her apartment and am quite surprised at the home she’s made for herself.

Arden’s got a lot of personality. She’s sassy, quick-witted, and assertive.

She’s serious, studious, and mature beyond her years.

I expected lots of books, a bit of mess, and some colourful prints on the wall.

I expected a vintage, but trendy velvet couch and some interesting tapestry.

All things that would immediately make sense when I pictured a space she lives in.

I didn’t expect white walls, beige couches, and a simple black coffee table. Nothing on the walls. No personal touches. There’s a rug, but it’s just as plain as the rest of the house. Even her television stand is void of any personal identifiers.

There is no life in this place.

I don’t make a single comment about it. Not after last time.

I turn to her and smile instead. “Where do you want this?”

She points to the coffee table and then vanishes into the kitchen. She comes back with some plates and a couple bottles of water, holding a notebook under her armpit.

“Brought this for you, too,” I say, handing her the red wine. “We don’t need to have it now. I just didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

She slowly lowers herself to the couch, her eyes pinching a bit. “You brought an entire sushi restaurant with you.”

Please, give me a break. I’m dying here.

“It’s a gesture, Red.”

She lets out a long breath, but hops back onto her feet and scurries from the room again, returning with two wine glasses. It’s a screw cap, so within a second, she twists it off and starts pouring us both a glass.

“Figured we’ll need it for this conversation.”

I lean back on the couch. “Oh? ”

She brings her glass to her lips before she opens her notebook. I see so much writing in those pages that for a moment, I’m terrified of what she’s about to say. But then she lands on a page and presses her palm to it, hesitating for a moment, before she hands it to me.

I take it and come face to face with the most beautiful handwritten list I've ever seen. Where her apartment is void of any personality, her notebook has it all. Gorgeous, girly writing. Like, calligraphy level shit. Different colour highlighters shading different words.

But it’s the title that jumps out at me.

RULES FOR BEING MRS. FAUX FORKER

I breathe out a laugh, and Arden digs into the sushi instead of focusing on my reaction to her list.

1. No Funny Business: Hand holding, touching, and normal couple things are permitted. Kissing only if the situation is dire. No physical contact beyond that point.

Not quite sure what dire situation would require us to kiss. I don’t anticipate her needing mouth-to-mouth. Either way, I smirk.

2. Three days a week: The schedule will be set for three days per week. You can choose how we spend them. To be arranged around both of our changing schedules, including night shifts and away games. Exceptions can be granted upon appeal.

I cough out a laugh at that one, meeting her eyes above the book. She shoves a California roll into her mouth and shoots me a glare. I have a feeling the appeal board is going to be a rather tough one to face.

3. Medical Bills: You will pay my father’s medical bills at the end of each month. If they are ever growing to be more than you feel comfortable with, please advise me of this and we will end the arrangement immediately.

I don’t know if she realizes how much money I make, but I nod along anyway. I won’t be worrying about that rule.

It’s the last rule that makes me almost choke on my sip of wine.

4. No Sex: We will not be fraternizing, but we will not do so with anyone else, either.

If word gets out that you’re sleeping with other women, I will become a topic of discussion more than I’d like on social media.

It will be embarrassing and will push me into a spotlight that I don’t want to be under.

It also has the potential to ruin our ruse.

No sex. With anyone. I will do the same .

Is she kidding?

I run a hand over my face. “Red.”

“That’s the most important one,” she grumbles, dipping her roll into the spicy mayo. “I don’t want to become a circus act, Carter. You cheat, it becomes another media whirlwind, and I’m the monkey in the cage.”

She’s not wrong. Look at all the girls seen near me, who are now being posted all over TikTok and Instagram as my potential girlfriend. It would be a nightmare to endure, especially for someone who they believe is my actual girlfriend, and not just an educated guess.

But still. I don’t know if that’s doable.

“That’s…” I breathe out. “That’s a tough one.”

I don’t know how long this arrangement will go on for. I’ve suggested until the end of the year. If we make it until then, that’s two and a half months . Can I last that long? With no sex at all? With anyone?

“Take it or leave it,” she says with a shrug. “If we’re dating, faux or not, it’s me and me alone.”

I raise a brow. “But I won’t be having sex with you either.”

“Correct,” she says with an assured nod.

Damn. Straight to the ego.

“You drive a hard bargain, Red.”

She flashes me a cheeky little smile that she means to look sarcastic, and busies herself with picking at the sushi on the coffee table again. When she leans back, plate now full, she meets my eyes.

“So?”

“Can I add rules?”

Her chewing slows. “You can. I’ll take your requests to the appeal board for consideration.”

“Are you the appeal board?” I ask.

She swallows her bite and shrugs. “I might be. ”

Lord, give me strength. I am not going to survive this.

“Give me a pen.”

Her eyes widen in horror. “You are not ruining my perfectly made list.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s a list, not a binding contract.”

“Might as well be!” she counters.

“Fine.” I sigh, handing her the notebook. “You write it down then.”

“Fine,” she says. She opens a drawer on the coffee table and takes out a marker. “Go on.”

“Rule four-point-five: If you find yourself in need of a little break from rule number four, you come to me.”

She moves to write but then pauses, head whirling up to me. “ What?”

“I think it’s only fair. I’m going to be dying without some form of sex. My hand is only so good. If you find yourself needing some stress relief, I will be of service to you. As a generosity.”

“A generosity,” she says slowly.

“Yep,” I lean forward to start filling my plate with sushi, “take it or leave it.”

She stares at me. “You know I will absolutely never be utilizing this rule, correct?”

“You say that now,” I say, “but after the second month, you might be changing your attitude.”

Her eyes burn into my face for a moment. “Fine, then I’m adding another rule, too.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Rule four-point-seven-five: For every month we do this, and I manage to resist the unfathomable temptation of sleeping with you, you pay for one dog’s adoption fees at the shelter.”

I raise a brow. “ That’s your counteroffer? ”

“It’s important.”

“Fine, two dogs will get their bail covered, and then you’ll have to think of all of the other ones who are sitting in those cages all alone when you’re moaning my name in my ear.”

She looks at me for a long time, before she shakes her head and jots down my rule as rule four point five, with her counter rule in the fine print.

When she drops the notebook between us, I look at it and nod.

It’s then that I notice her signature at the bottom of the page: A.

Doll . All pretty and round and sweet. She dated it, too. Like this is binding.

“Sign it,” she demands.

I hate how that bossy tone makes me ten times more attracted to her.

I lean over and scribble my name next to hers.

Date it, too. And only then do I realize this is actually happening.

The girl on the other end of the couch, the one who burst into my life that night at Icebox , is going to pretend like she’s my girlfriend for the foreseeable future. She’s going to save my life.

It’ll cost me some money, and her some pride, but we’re doing this.

“Oh, and Carter?”

I glance at her, sipping my wine.

She flashes me a sinful smile. “I haven’t had sex in three years.”

I cough into my drink, sending red wine spraying over the rim of the glass.

Well.

I don’t think rule number four-point-five will ever come to fruition. Together, we might also save the entire canine population.

My faux girlfriend is a nun.