Page 16 of Skating and Fake Dating (Love in Maple Falls #4)

BAILEY

N ever mind. I was wrong. This will be brutal. Not because I won’t be meeting Taggert at the end of the aisle, but because there’s no chance of me taking the wedding march anytime soon.

“Did you forget something?” Carson asks.

Seizing this opportunity, I turn to him and say, “Yes. I left my sanity somewhere—” I gesture vaguely behind me.

“I can see why. But I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Which is what I don’t understand.” I adjust my ill-fitting dress that’s a little too big around the bustline and keeps sliding down. Or perhaps it’s too small. I don’t know, except Odette insisted I wear the itchy, strapless, tube-like pumpkin spice confection.

My mother barks, “You’re always late. Break that bad habit for her, would you, Carson? Phil saved us seats. Hurry inside.”

Carson turns slowly, not in a hurry at all, but I grab his wrist. Only my hand doesn’t quite close around it like the links of the handcuffs did. But for better or worse, the proximity feels familiar. “Or we could make a run for the border. Canada isn’t far.”

He chuckles. “This is your family. And you can’t back out. You’re laced up. On the ice. No stopping now. ”

“But you see how they are.”

“And I hear what they say,” he confirms.

“So—?”

His words from mere moments ago filter back. I’m here, aren’t I?

Searching my eyes, I’m sure Carson sees desperation, but I only glimpse certainty. Confidence. And a kind of cockiness I’ve only observed in hockey players.

Cupping his hand around mine, Carson leads me up the steps and into the chapel.

The room falls into a hush as we parade down the aisle to where Dad sits.

On the wooden bench, I’m squished up against Carson, feeling his massive frame, solid against mine.

Our arms and legs practically zipped together.

My mouth is dry and I feel like wilting.

Conveniently, I could rest my head on my fake date’s shoulder.

It’s pure toned muscle, but if I nuzzled in a bit, I bet I could find a soft and cozy spot.

These thoughts occupy my mind until the music changes and the ceremony begins.

Somehow, I remain upright and survive Tori and Tagg exchanging their vows. No one demands they forever hold their peace. However, I felt eyes on me when the minister asked if there were objections to the couple entering into matrimony.

Then it’s over.

I expect Carson to leave for the Lodge, which reminds me, I have to check on his reservation, but we’re swept into the greeting line, then whisked to the Regent’s Hotel, a swanky venue, for the reception.

Carson rarely leaves my side. However, he charms the Silver Crown Club, consisting of the older women in my family with hair threaded with white and silver, who’re sassy and don’t take any nonsense, but dish it out plentifully.

While the best man gives the toast, noting that the groom married into the family after all—yes, that was a dig at me—Carson absently rubs my shoulder with his thumb. It wanders up my neck to the little spot behind my ear, almost like he’s telling me not to listen to them.

I steal a peek, but his gaze is fixed straight ahead. The movement forces me to have to adjust this dress again, or else I risk it sliding down around my ankles, making me a double spectacle for today.

The couple has their first dance and just the thought of getting out on the polished wooden floor makes my already aching feet scream.

Another aunt and uncle set approach, likely having heard that I brought a date and want to get the scoop.

“Aunt Orla and Uncle Otis! So nice to see you,” I exclaim.

My aunt all but pulls out a megaphone and announces, “Introduce us to your boyfriend.”

“Oh, he’s—” I’m about to object, but he kind of is my date, right?

Carson extends his hand to shake and introduces himself.

“Call us Aunt and Uncle Otter. Everyone does, including Bailey, well, she did until she left for the big city.”

I want to explain that I only went to New York City for my final job interview where the NHL is headquartered and then was stationed in Denver and then Cobbiton, hardly “the Big City,” but no one cares about the details and have their own pre-programmed opinions about my life, so instead, I share with Carson about how they run an otter rehab.

“That’s so cool.”

“Your new team’s mascot is an otter,” Uncle Otis says proudly.

“News to me.”

“You’ll have to come over and see our collection.”

“Of otters?” he asks.

“And otter stuff. We source a lot of it from the flea market. We heard you had quite the adventure today!”

Finally, someone believes us .

Aunt Orla says, “Nancy Millen with the jam and jelly stall said she saw you two fleeing in handcuffs.”

I slouch. “We?—”

From behind, Carson squeezes my shoulders playfully. “I have quite the little bandit on my hands.”

At last, the woman of the hour appears—not the bride—Nanna.

Aunt Orla introduces Carson as my boyfriend.

She raises an eyebrow and warmly welcomes him.

I open and close my mouth, but Nanna’s gaze lands on my bare wrist. I clasp my fingers around the place where Pappa’s watch usually sits, but don’t dare say it’s broken. This only makes me feel more terrible for not wearing it.

When Pappa passed away, he only bequeathed two items in his will … they both went to me. The family bible and his beloved watch that he’d worn during the war. It still kept time and was engraved on the back with the Latin words Tempus Fugit .

Everyone felt slighted and scrambled, staking claims, but Nanna didn’t have any of it and told them that Pappa had made his decision the day I turned twelve.

It’s not that I was his favorite, more like I was the only one willing to get up before dawn and traipse through the woods with him, tapping trees, learning about chill hours and sap flow. We were best friends.

“I take it you heard about the handcuff debacle by now.”

Nanna nods. “News travels fast around here. I hope you two will come by tomorrow.”

“I won’t be late.”

Nanna smiles, understanding me in a way that no one else in my family ever has, well, other than Pappa. “I know.” Turning to Carson, she adds, “And by you two, I mean you . I cannot wait to hear this origin story.”

At a loss, my parted lips turn into a smile. “Of course.”

But there is no romantic tale of how we met because we’re not actually together. I can’t lie to my grandmother. Anyway, she’d see right through it.

Carson says, “It’s been quite the adventure. Definitely a story for the memory books.”

Brow wrinkled, when she’s out of earshot, I say, “You do not have to face the interrogation. I’ll make up an excuse. Tell her you have practice. Which you probably do.” Wincing, I still need to call Denise at the Lodge, but that requires me to sneak away with my phone.

Carson’s blue-green eyes flick to something behind me and then he leans close. “If anyone asks, we met in a bathroom.”

“No. That’s not true. Also, ew. Gross. We couldn’t tell that to our children, no less than to my grandmother.”

His eyes bulge. “What about the elevator?”

“Technically, we met in the galley kitchen dining area at the Ice Palace,” I say with a hush, lest anyone catch on that we’re not really a couple.

Wait. My entire body seizes. Tipping my head back to get a full view of Carson Crane’s face, I start to ask the obvious question, factoring children into the equation, “How long are we—?” But the words fake dating don’t leave my tongue when the bride and groom greet us.

I elbow Carson. “Oh. No. Here they come. Act normal.”

“Me?” he asks.

“No, me,” I say through closed teeth. With a wide smile, I add, “Congratulations!”

Tori presses her hand to her chest. “It was so big of you to come. I mean, I know it must be hard, seeing what you’re missing out on.” She smirks at Tagg.

The corners of my lips drop. I’d like to tell them that my mother made me come, but I summon patience and grace.

In a perky sing-song, I say, “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Then a deep voice, from approximately eight inches overhead, says, “Me neither. It’s not every day I get to see such a beautiful woman dressed up and looking more delicious than a blondie smothered in frosting.”

Jaw. Floor. Mine.

I blink a few times. Carson winks at me and then laces his arm around my waist.

Tori goes still like she’s a computer having a glitch. “Oh. You brought a date.”

Carson extends his strong, calloused hand and introduces himself.

To my fake boyfriend, my ex-boyfriend says, “Be careful, Big Guy. I dodged a bullet with this one. She comes with a criminal record—” But as Carson’s hand closes around Tagg’s, he goes quiet as if he’s saying a silent prayer to walk away with all five of his fingers intact.

“Dodged a bullet? Nah. I got lucky. Bailey is beautiful, smart, creative, and has some very intriguing hobbies.”

Tori chortles. “Don’t tell me she’s trying to get you into making maple syrup.”

“This is Maple Falls, isn’t it?” Carson pulls me closer, causing my heart to race. “And whatever we do, we do it together.”

“Does that mean you got her on the ice? She’s the least coordinated, most unathletic—” Taggert starts, once more cut off with a simple look from Carson.

“I like Bailey just the way she is, but yeah, I’m working on getting her skating.”

More like skating into fake dating. Scratch that, sliding on my butt into the boards.

Carson isn’t just playing along, he’s going all in on our fake dating scheme.

But why? Why would he do this for me? Oh, right, because his reality slides toward him now that we’re here and he needs to put on a good show for the Ice Breakers, which means I need to get my act together.

Tagg rolls his eyes. “Good luck with her. Bailey has high romantic expectations. She wants to settle down, have kids, and make maple syrup. That all sounds a bit sticky if you ask me.”

For some reason, Carson lets him continue, scattering around my marriage hobby goals like autumn leaves, only to soon crunch them underfoot. However, he listens intently, making me flustered and confused as his grip around me tightens.

He snorts at Tagg and then looks down at me, gaze searching mine. “Sounds like a plan.”

I want to believe him. Want to indulge the fantasy. I can practically see him tipping his cap now as the sun sets on that dusty dream road.

However, I can’t fool myself into thinking about a real relationship because Carson doesn’t believe in true love.