Page 9

CHAPTER NINE

Suki

“I think that went well. How about you?”

Carter gives me a questioning look after closing the door to his--now our--bedroom. I nod, the day catching up with me all at once as I slide out of the heels I wore with the casual dress I changed into after the ceremony.

“About as well as it could have,” I agree absently.

“Other than Darling shitting in the middle of the dining room three times. And you telling everyone the marriage isn’t real.”

I sigh softly, flexing my sore feet. “You know, if you could make shitty comments like fifty or sixty percent of the time instead of a hundred, that would be really nice.”

He scoffs as he unbuttons his dress shirt. “I’m not being shitty. I told you how important it is that we sell this as a real relationship. If it gets out that I’m trying to play games with the judge in the custody case, that’ll be a big fucking problem. Michelle was clear about that.”

“I only told my three closest friends in the world. They probably would’ve had me involuntarily committed if I told them I was marrying a man I hardly knew. All I’ve said to them about you before this is that you’re kind of cold and selfish.”

His jaw drops as he takes off his dress shirt and walks over to the massive walk-in closet. “What the fuck, Suki? That’s what you think of me?”

Yikes. Probably shouldn’t have told him that. “Only sometimes. And you’ve gotten better. But let’s stay on topic. I’m not telling my family or anyone else the truth. So don’t worry. I won’t do anything to put the custody case in jeopardy. I want the best for the girls.”

He walks into the closet, leaving me in silence. I glance around the room, which is dimly lit by built-in sconces over each bedside table and ceiling lights over the bed. When I was getting ready for the ceremony earlier, I discovered that this bedroom has seven different light switches. The closet has another three and the bathroom has five. That’s more than my entire apartment.

Carter’s house was furnished and decorated by a pro. And his bedroom is more masculine than the rest of it. The furniture is all dark and sturdy, the walls painted a soft gray. A huge, expensive-looking rug covers the dark wood flooring. His king-sized bed has a beautiful arched wood headboard and it’s made neatly with a white duvet and a few decorative pillows.

Did he do that? His house cleaner, Andrea, comes twice a week and cleans for a few hours each time, but today wasn’t one of her days. I can imagine fussy Carter arranging his pillows just so, his brows lowered in judgment of the alignment.

There’s a sitting area with two leather chairs arranged in front of a small fireplace, a small table between the chairs stacked with a few hardback books. I walk over and look at them, wondering if they’re really books he’s read or just decorative.

They’re all biographies. Warren Buffet, George Washington and Billie Jean King.

“You guys should come to the game tomorrow night.” Carter walks out of the closet and I glance over at him as he speaks.

I have to force it to be a glance because he doesn’t have a shirt on. He’s only wearing black athletic shorts. And I’ve never seen a man with a body like his this close up. Tyler’s Cheetos and Fruity Pebbles addictions kept his abs so well hidden I never saw them. Carter, on the other hand, likes to snack on grilled chicken and cucumber.

“Sure, I know the girls have been dying to go to one,” I say, keeping my tone casual.

“The counselor I’m working with said I should wait until I think they’re ready for questions about their mom. Even though my teammates and their families know better than to ask about her, there’s always that random nosy asshole who could say something.”

This is a two-way conversation, and I can’t be part of it and not look at him. But I don’t want to get busted ogling his muscles, so I keep my gaze on his face as I respond.

“If anybody says anything in front of me, they’ll feel my wrath.”

Carter grins. “You have a wrath?”

“I do.”

“I can kind of see that. When we first met, I thought you were just a sweet, passive, pretty face who likes everyone and everything.”

My heart skips a beat over him calling me pretty. Must be biological because I’m not into him. At the same time, I scoff at his comment, though it does hit home. Past Suki was way too sweet and passive, and look where it got me. Burned and buried in debt by a man who took advantage of me.

Never again.

“You thought wrong. I stand up for myself, and I’ll stand up to anyone who tries to hurt the girls.”

“Good.”

I flash him a quick smile. “Remember you said that when I stand up to you .”

A corner of his lips quirks up in a sexy smile. “I don’t want you to be a doormat, Suki. For this to work, we have to be completely open with each other.”

“I agree.”

“I want you and the girls at all my home games, even if you have to leave early on school nights.”

I furrow my brow. “Okay, I don’t like the way you commanded it, but I’ll do my best.”

He starts taking the decorative pillows off the bed, stacking them on one of the leather chairs. “My team shirts and sweaters are in the closet in one of the drawers by the door. The light-blue one on the bottom is the one I’d give to my wife, so wear that one.”

I get a fluttering sensation in my stomach. His wife . I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the sound of that.

Wearing his clothes feels very intimate. But I guess he’s right. It’s probably something I’d do if we were really a couple.

“You said it’s a sweater?”

“A jersey. We call them sweaters.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll have someone from the front office bring over some stuff for the girls to wear tomorrow.”

My gaze starts to drift down to his defined chest, which has hair a shade lighter than the hair on his head and face. His shoulders and chest also have a few freckles. I check myself, forcing my eyes back to his.

“If that...sweater is important to you, I don’t want to risk ruining it.”

“You’ll be fine. It’s already got a rip in one arm from the game I wore it in.”

“You only wore it once?”

He nods. “I wore it when my team won the championship my second year in the pros.”

I clear my throat, unsure what to say. “I’ll, um, see how it looks on me tomorrow.”

He’s done with the pillows. There are only two left on the bed, one on each side, both with crisp-looking white pillowcases.

“Wear it,” he orders.

I bristle at his no-nonsense tone over what I’ll be wearing. I never signed over this level of control to him.

“Look, just because your past girlfriends have all been vapid groupies who wept over wearing your jersey, that doesn’t mean I’m doing it.” I fold my arms to emphasize my point.

“My last girlfriend was a professor of archaeology at NYU. It’s been a long fucking day and I have another long fucking day tomorrow, so can you just give me a break on this one so we can go to bed?”

I hate his tone, but I’m tired, too. I’m also feeling properly chastised over calling his last girlfriend a vapid groupie. “Fine. Can you please undo the top two buttons on this dress for me?”

He approaches, and it’s impossible to keep my gaze on just his face. He’s just so big . I can feel his warmth as I turn around, moving my hair over one shoulder so he can access the buttons I had Mara fasten for me earlier.

The brush of his fingers on my skin makes my heart race. No one said my vow of celibacy after Tyler screwed me over would be easy. Even when we were together, Tyler and I didn’t have much sex, so it’s been a long time since a man touched me.

“Did you invite your family for Thanksgiving?” Carter’s warm breath is a light caress on my neck as he makes quick work of the buttons.

“No, but I will.”

Thanksgiving is in less than two weeks. Carter wants us to host my family and his aunt Rosie, so I have a lot of planning to do. Fortunately, Harry is going to help me with the cooking and Mara and Dex will help with everything else.

“Three brothers, right?” Carter asks as he walks back over to the bed.

I clutch the fabric of my halter-cut dress tightly as I walk over to the closet so it doesn’t fall down.

“Right. Jack, Nate and Sean.”

Carter gets in bed. “I’m great with brothers.”

I’ll let him find out for himself how protective my older brothers are and how less than thrilled they and my parents are going to be about our supposed whirlwind courtship and the wedding they weren’t invited to. There just wasn’t enough time, and I knew my family would have been so alarmed at the idea of me marrying someone they’d never even met that they would have come flying here to stop us.

Someday I’ll be able to tell them the truth. Maybe. I’m too ashamed over what Tyler did to me to let my parents in on it. I also want to keep my brothers out of jail.

I have two suitcases full of clothes that I packed earlier, and I dig through one for a pair of light pajama pants and a gray cami to sleep in. I put on a lightweight sports bra beneath the cami, because nips.

It feels great to finally take off my makeup and let my hair down. I already chose one of the two sinks in Carter’s bathroom to make mine and lined up my toiletries on the counter. As I brush my teeth, I run my hands through the thick waves of my hair. After being wrapped into a knot for many hours, it’s looking pretty unruly.

Taming my hair is a tomorrow thing. Right now, I just want to sleep.

When I walk back into the bedroom, Carter is sitting up on his side of the bed, looking at me over the rim of his reading glasses, a paperback in his hands.

It’s The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks . I feel like an asshole for assuming Carter would only read books about white male athletes, like him. Clearly there’s more to him than I thought.

“Can you add me to your health insurance tomorrow?” I ask as I get into bed.

His sheets are silky soft and his bed is very firm but super comfortable. This must be what beds at luxury hotels are like. My bed at home sags in the middle.

“Yep. We’ve got a good dental plan, too.”

I get situated, then switch off the light on my side of the bed.

“Will the light bother you if I read a little longer?” he asks.

“No, not at all.”

After a pause, he says, “Hey, I’m not used to sharing a bed with anyone. If I accidentally kick you in the night or something, just kick me back.”

“It’s a huge bed. I think we’ll be okay.”

“Yeah.”

I turn onto my side, facing away from him. I’m feeling more nervous than I expected over the two of us sharing a bed.

I wonder if the archaeologist ever slept here? Oh God. He probably banged her here. That’s a weird feeling.

I can handle discomfort for five hundred thousand dollars, though. He’ll be gone a lot of the time for road trips, and this will get easier. As long as we’re both adults about it, this is all going to be fine.

Just fine. I tell myself that on repeat to calm my racing heart as I try to fall asleep, running my fingertip over the diamond on my wedding ring.