Page 31

I listen to the sound of the waves as my eyes flutter open. My first thought when Nash finally slides up my body from between my legs after using his tongue to give me a killer orgasmic wake-up call, is that I could get used to this. Oh wait, I am used to this. Nash and I have been inseparable since… well since we found out we accidentally got married. But this summer we've grown closer than I ever thought I could with a man.

After his surgery, we spent three weeks in Silver Bay. We helped Tate celebrate his day with the Cup and went to my cousin Conner and Mac's wedding. It was the cutest, most laid back lovely event at a restaurant on the water in Portland. I got to be a bridesmaid and, if I'm honest with myself, spent the whole day fantasizing about what my own wedding might be like one day. I mean, one that hasn't happened yet. A real one.

And now we’re spending six weeks in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, where Nash calls home. If you’d asked me twelve months ago if this is where I’d gladly spend my summer, I’d have laughed in your face. But there is nowhere I would rather be. My mom has always said life can throw some curveballs, and this curveball hit me right in the heart.

When Nash’s kisses climb my neck I rake my fingers into his thick hair, which is even lighter than normal because of our endless days in the sun, and whisper in his ear. “My turn… get your pretty cock out.”

He chuckles. It rumbles up from his belly and a smile curls his lips but he kisses my forehead and gets out of bed. “Rain check, baby. Crew, Liv, and my parents are going to be here early for the Canada Day barbecue and I want to sneak in a small workout.”

“I can give you a workout.”

I let the sheet fall to my hips as I sit up. My naked torso is on display and his eyes drink in every part of me, especially my breasts. I wish I could get over my trauma, but I still haven't been able to let him touch them, at least not for long. Nash doesn't care. I know this for a fact because he doesn't mention it. Nash is nothing if not straightforward. A trait I used to tease him about, I have grown to appreciate deeply. I always know where I stand with Nash and vice versa.

“You’re killing me,” Nash says and walks slowly over to the edge of the bed. He leans down and gives me a searing kiss. “Rain check.”

I knew that’s what he would say. Nash’s robotic side has kicked in like it always does when it comes to hockey training and recovering from his surgery. The doctors have given him a set of exercises to help him recover now that he’s allowed to ditch the crutches and he’s diligent about them. I frown and flop back onto the bed, pulling the sheets with me. “Fine. I’ll make potato salad instead of giving you an orgasm.”

He laughs at me. “Easy on the mayo, Garrison. I’ve got to stay in shape this off-season in order to get through this injury.”

“Extra mayo. Got it.”

He shakes his head and grabs his shoes as he heads out of the bedroom. I lay there in bliss listening to the waves. Then I text Liv to come over and I make two potato salads for the cookout—one with a healthy amount of mayo and one with a mix of light mayo and Dijon instead. It actually tastes pretty good so Nash will like it, but I’ll still tease him about his bland life choices.

"Do you have a strainer for the pasta?" Liv asks as she turns off the gas burner. She's making a pasta salad.

"Umm... I'm sure he does… somewhere?" I start to open drawers and cupboards. "I'll be honest, we aren't doing a lot of cooking. Nash has a meal service here, or we go out, or we order, or we just skip a meal and get naked."

“Oh my god. Stop,” Liv laughs.

I smile and pull open a drawer at the bottom of the rustic island near the dishwasher. There’s a colander. I yank it out. Why is there a legal envelope in it? From… Sullivan Law…

“Success!” Liv says, lifting the pot.

I put the colander in the sink and she walks over and carefully strains the pasta. I stare at the envelope like I’m in a trance. I know in my heart that these are my divorce papers. Our divorce papers. This is the end of my fake marriage and I’m not the least bit happy about it.

“What’s that?”

I turn the envelope to Liv and she squints as she reads. “Is that… the law firm working on your divorce?”

I nod. It’s hard to swallow suddenly. Liv’s brow furrows and she abandons the pasta in the colander, steam curling up from it and kissing the window that looks out over the backyard. She walks over to me, her eyes on the envelope. “You’re okay, right? I mean, you knew you were getting divorced.”

I nod, feeling so stupid for the tears that are starting to form. “Yeah. Of course. It’s just… well it feels counterintuitive to end a marriage with a man I’m…” I swallow and smile, “madly in love with.”

The grin on Liv’s full mouth is part happiness and part shit-eating because she’s always been the one who believes in romance and fairy tale love and prince charmings. It’s never been me. I’ve sworn it would never be me. I frown at her. “Gloating gives you wrinkles.”

She laughs but pulls me in for a hug and I let her, fixing my chin on her shoulder as she squeezes me. “You can always tell him you don’t want a divorce.”

“I can’t stay married,” I exclaim but there’s no conviction in my voice. “It would be absurd. I’m not even twenty-five. I didn’t even like him when I married him. He hated me. I don’t even remember doing it for godssake!”

“All valid points but do you want to be married to Nash?” Liv asks me.

"Yes," I confess but follow it up quickly with an explanation. "But it doesn't feel right like this. And I mean I don't know how to fix it, you know? So divorce it is, I guess. I just don't know why he hasn't signed these yet. Or give them to me to sign."

"Maybe just waiting until after the holiday," Liv says as she lets go of me and heads back over to finish the pasta salad.

We go continue prepping the food and when the colander is clean and dry I stick it back in its spot and put the papers back inside. Crew and Nash come back from the gym and his parents and some of their friends come over a few hours after that. We have a great day swimming in the ocean, playing volleyball on the small beach, and eating everything in sight.

Once everyone leaves, after the fireworks, Nash pulls me onto his lap in an Adirondack chair by the fire pit instead of letting me go inside and clean up. I don't complain. I'll never complain about being in his arms, but after finding those papers it feels extra important to enjoy his affection. I know it won't change once we're divorced and just dating. But I feel like it will feel different.

“I love having you here,” Nash murmurs, gently moving my hair off my shoulder so he can rest his chin there as one of his hands slides across my waist to hug me to him.

The papers in the colander run through my brain again as I look up at the stars and listen to the waves lap the beach, which has disappeared from view in the inky night. “I’ll always come and visit if you want me to.”

“I want you to think of it as your home too, wifey-poo.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he says that, using the nickname we jokingly gave each other for the cameras while we were filming the documentary. “Just like the loft.”

“I found the papers,” I say and squeeze my eyes shut, bracing myself for his reaction. Do I want Nash to be upset I found them or relieved? “I wasn’t snooping. Liv needed the colander for the pasta salad and there they were. Weird hiding place, by the way. Anyway, I found them.”

“Oh. Okay.” His voice sounds thick and dull. “Did you sign them?”

“No. But I will,” I say and my voice decides to tremble for some stupid reason. “I’m assuming you were waiting for the right moment, but I don’t know if there is a right moment to end a fake marriage with real feelings.”

He sighs. “Up.”

I get to my feet and give him room to stand. He walks into the house after he mumbles, "Stay here."

When he returns he’s not holding the beer bottle he was sipping. He’s holding the papers and his face is guarded and kind of angry-looking. The kind of expression I haven’t seen directed at me in a long time. Weird how it can look foreign when it used to be the only way Nash looked at me. He holds up the papers. “Charlie sent them when we were still in Maine. I just needed a minute to sort out what to say to you.”

I bite my lip and then try to smile when I let it go. I’m thankful for the dim light which comes only from the flames of the fire and the solar lanterns on the deck of the house a few feet away because I know the smile is weak. “I’m a big girl, Nash. You don’t have to protect my feelings. We’re in love and the paperwork means nothing, right? We didn’t even mean it. So we should just sign it and go on dating, like normal people.”

He chuckles at that, which isn’t the reaction I was expecting. I think I was expecting a sigh of relief or a smile of awe at how very stupidly boringly grown up I’m being about this. "Don't go and start being some kind of logical, pragmatic bore on me now, Garrison. That's my personality, not yours."

I laugh despite the serious feeling in my heart. He holds out the papers but not toward me. He holds them over the fire. My eyes bulge out of my head. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t drop these into the fire?”

“Because…” Weird how I suddenly can’t form a sentence.

His eyes lock on mine and he grins slyly. “Tenley Garrison is finally speechless.”

“Shut up. I am not!” I bark out and huff. “Because I never wanted to get married. And neither did you. Not now.”

His smile fades. “So you don’t want to stay married?”

“No I… What I want doesn’t matter.”

“It’s all that matters,” he counters, the amber in his hazel eyes dancing with the light of the flames. “You are all that has mattered to me for a very long time, Ten. Because I love you. And you’re right I didn’t think being married right now would work out for my life, but you… being married to you is perfection.”

My eyes feel hot and wet and I blink away the tears trying to form. “So you want to stay married to me?”

“I do.”

“I…” One tear slips down my cheek and I ignore it. “I do too. But…”

“But we both want to remember doing it?” he suggests. I laugh and nod. He laughs too. “So…”

The papers drop into the fire, one by one fluttering from his big hand. I laugh. It’s loud and sounds slightly unhinged, I’m sure. “You’re insane.”

"Yeah. Totally out of character, I know." Nash steps closer and then he drops to one knee on the grass and I feel my heart grow wings in my chest. "Tenley Jennifer Garrison, you complete and utter wild card, will you marry me, again? Properly in front of our families?"

“Yes. I will marry you, my perfect robot husband.”

“Fuck off,” he barks and gets to his feet and wraps me in a hug, lifting me off my feet as his lips crash down on mine.

August – Nash

She looks absolutely incredible. I expect nothing less, of course. Tenley had less than three weeks to buy a dress and plan this out. Her mom knew it was coming so she had a lot already mapped out. Jordan had told her I’d asked for his permission.

I always scoffed at men who tear up at their weddings because I never understood the windfall of emotions that overtake you. But here I am, my vision blurring as she and Jordan appear on the deck, stepping out from my house. Her dress is bohemian and flowy with lace and shorter than most wedding dresses. Her blonde hair is loose and tousled with her natural curls she usually hides. Jordan's in a beige linen summer suit. The pride and love radiate from his expression and her aunts and her mom sniffles from the front row.

Crew leans in. “Proud of you, finally giving in and leading with your heart.”

“You may have been on to something.”

“I’m the smarter twin, but you’re catching up.”

“Fuck you.”

He chuckles.

The ceremony, which we’ve told media is a vow renewal because technically it is, is short and sweet. We both laugh throughout because our vows are as unique as we are. The party is catered by an excellent local shop and the cake is placed in the Stanley Cup, since it’s also my Player Day with the Cup. The handler tells me that I’m the first player in history to do this. I don’t tell him that I’m probably also the only player in history to be marrying his fake wife on Cup day too.

I pull her onto the dance floor for the last song of the night, Scared by the epic Hip cover band Tenley hired, and kiss her. And when we break apart she pulls me in closer, resting her cheek on my shoulder and sighing. She sounds content, and so am I. In my soul, in a way, I never thought possible. Who would have thought that was even possible, let alone courtesy of the former bane of my existence?

“I love you more than I ever hated you,” I whisper against the top of her head, the silky strands of her hair brushing my lips.

“I love you as much as I hated you,” Tenley replies and I can feel her giggle. “Because that was a whole lot. More than I ever thought possible, and so is this love.”

I grin. She’s right… not that I would ever admit it.