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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

arden

My face is everywhere.

I mean, everywhere.

I can’t scroll on any app without a picture or video of Carter and me popping up. It’s terrifying. I can’t bring myself to watch a single one. I don’t want to hear anyone say anything mean about me, or about how I look. I know how this stuff works. What they think about me is none of my business.

The amount of follow requests I’ve gotten overnight proves they’ve learned my name. The only two requests that I have accepted are from Carter and Penny. Everyone else can sit in purgatory and wonder what’s waiting for them on the other side of that follow button.

I’m an hour into some trashy reality TV when I get a text from my faux boyfriend.

Carter

You okay?

Me

Dandy. Why?

Carter

It’s been a lot today on my end. I’m sure you’ve seen it. Just wanted to make sure you’re doing alright under that big, awful spotlight that I just put you under.

I smile, tossing a chocolate almond into my mouth. He’s a nice guy, isn’t he? Under all that arrogance and those anger issues, I don’t think he’s so bad. Clearly, he listens. That spotlight has been my biggest concern.

Me

I’m avoiding it like the plague.

Carter

LOL. Probably the smartest move you’ve made since becoming Mrs. Faux Forkerro.

I breathe a laugh.

Me

Any better for you yet?

Carter

Not much of a change. People are mainly focusing on you right now. But now they know you’re real, so the witch hunt should stop.

Me

Am I the witch?

Carter

This feels like a trick question.

I’m smiling down at my phone and hate myself for it.

Maybe he was right during that first phone call.

Maybe the worst that will happen is that I’ll leave this situation with a new friend.

A few, if you count Penny, and maybe even Declan.

But Carter, too. We get along. He’s not the worst. Plus, he’s going to be covering my father’s bills, and I’ll forever be indebted to him for that.

I still can’t believe that part of it.

It feels like a dream. Like at any moment, the rug will be pulled from underneath me, and Carter will laugh in my face.

Which reminds me.

I call Serena, and after about five rings, she answers.

“Biggie. Hey.”

“Hey,” I say, turning the volume down on the TV. “How’s it going?”

She lets out a long, weighted sigh. “He’s not having a good day today. I’ve been up here all afternoon. He fell trying to get out of bed.”

My chest lurches, and I don’t know why. I typically feel nothing when it comes to my family unless it directly involves my sisters. Definitely not about Dad, even though there is some yearning to be loved by him buried somewhere very, very deep.

“Shit. Is he okay?” That’s two falls that were not very far apart. He’s declining.

“He’ll be fine for now,” she says, but she sounds tired. It pulls at my ‘big sister’ heartstrings. They’re exhausted. We’re all exhausted. They had to grow up nearly as fast as I did, and it wasn’t enjoyable for any of us. “Anyway, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t act like I don’t ever call you to talk.”

“I mean, you do, but I’m mad at you, so I don’t have much to say.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. That new home is actually why I’m calling.”

Serena pauses. “What? No. I’m not mad at you about the home. I know you need to think that over.”

I frown. “What else did I do? ”

“You started dating the world’s hottest hockey player and didn’t think to mention it to me or Anya?”

I cringe. Whoops. I guess the news really did go viral. I totally forgot that the fanfare over Carter Forkerro extends past the city limits. If it were real, I probably would have mentioned it, but since it’s all an act, it hadn’t even crossed my mind.

“It’s very new.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care. Spill .”

“I don’t have much to say,” I laugh, popping another chocolate in my mouth. “I’ll report back when I do.”

“How the hell did you meet him?” she asks.

I hesitate, trying not to wince at the answer. “The truth? You can’t repeat it.”

That gains her interest. I picture her curling inward on a chair in my dad’s room, covering the microphone of the phone like she is about to receive nuclear codes. “Duh. Tell me everything.”

“I almost slept with his teammate a couple of years ago.”

The noise that leaves Serena is loud and somewhere between a cackle and a scream.

I can’t help but laugh as she hollers in my ear, quietening herself quickly, probably to avoid waking Dad.

Her shocked noises turn into excited giggles, and I picture the little nine-year-old girl with long, tangled dark hair, rather than the woman she’s grown into.

“ You’re kidding . Which one?”

“I’m not telling you that. That is classified.”

“I’m your sister.”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s top secret. Plus, it never happened, so it’s not important.”

“Please tell me you’ve slept with this one,” she whispers. “He looks like a good one to get in there to dust out all of the cobwebs.”

I glare at the TV. “Serena. ”

“Sorry, sorry.” She laughs. “Okay, fine. You’ve given me enough dirty details to satisfy me for the day. What did you need?”

“I’m just calling to tell you that if you want to move Dad, you can do that.” I hate the idea, because this fake relationship is only going to last so long, but I am going to try my hardest to save as much as I can while Carter pays those bills and I pay off the others.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’ll figure it out,” I tell her, and I hope she doesn’t put the pieces together. A famous athlete comes into the picture, and all of a sudden, I’m made of money. Nobody would believe that anyway. It sounds ridiculous. “Just forward everything to me before you make any final decisions, okay?”

“Of course.”

“You’re sure this is necessary?”

“He needs around-the-clock care, Arden,” she says with a long sigh. “He’s supposed to have that here, but they’re too understaffed to provide it. He shouldn’t have fallen today. He was on the ground for a lot longer than he should have been.”

Guilt pierces my heart. I might be angry with him. I might resent him, but I don’t want him to suffer, and I don’t want him to be treated improperly. He’s sick. Terribly sick. He needs real care.

“Make the call.”

“Okay,” she says quietly. “I love you, Biggie.”

Biggie. The nickname my little sisters gave me when I was young and had to take care of them day and night. I wasn’t Mom, but I was their big sister, and that meant something when I was who they started to lean on.

“Love you more, Smalls.”

When we hang up, I have a new notification. A direct message on Instagram.

PSweets: Want to come by before the game? Have a glass of wine or a cup of coffee and get ready? I have a Facetime date with my best friend, Avery. She’s dying to meet you.

That sounds…like an interview.

DollyPop88: Yes, please. What the fuck does one even wear to a hockey game that their fake boyfriend is playing in?

PSweets: LOL! I’d say a shirt with his face on it, but Forker might get a boner seeing himself in the stands. Here’s my number. Text me. We can discuss outfits.

I text the number she gave me, just saying a simple hello.

Penny

I think this means we’re real-life friends now, even if this whole fake-relationship thing doesn’t work out.