Page 20 of The Pucking Fake Marriage (The Ice Kings #4)

NINETEEN

LOVE AS AN ACTION (CHARLIE)

I wake up to a hammering on my door, one so loud and forceful, it literally knocks me out of bed.

“What?” I scream. I pick myself up from the floor as I rub my eyes and look around my bedroom. It’s the one I shared with Haley before everything happened. Right now, it looks more like a mess than it ever has. Wrappings of cookies and chips are strewn all around the comforter and the floor, crumb stains on the sheets, and my half-open laptop, still replaying The Breakfast Club. It’s the movie I’ve been rewatching all week.

All things considered, it’s been a fantastic few days.

My door is still being hammered. I look toward the noise, hate brewing inside me. I know Haley is my friend and she always means well, but fucking hell, if she could leave me alone for two seconds I’d be the happiest person on earth.

I stumble to the door and drag it open. Haley has stuffed herself into the narrow hallway. She’s fully dressed for work and actually has the audacity to glower at me.

“What?” I spit. All I want is to slam the door in her face and stomp back to bed. It’s either that or burst into tears…again. Because the only two emotions I’m capable of summoning now are intense despair or intense rage.

Despair was easy enough to understand, if not to feel. But what I’m angry about, I don’t know.

“What?” Haley repeats, her eyes popping with surprise. “You promised to come with me to the restaurant today, remember?”

I scrunch my brows, dimly remembering a conversation I had with her the night before, after she waded through the mess in my room and gave me a tongue-lashing for not showing up to work in days. Apparently, someone leaked the news about a famous superstar visiting my restaurant, and the place has been bursting to capacity all week long. I don’t even care. I just want to stay in my room.

“I’ll come to the restaurant today.” I’m lying, and I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help myself. “I’m just too exhausted right now. I’ll take a nap and then join you.”

Haley raises a brow. “Come join me when? It’s four in the afternoon, Charlie. Plus, literally all our employees have been calling me back-to-back for the last thirty minutes. There’s an emergency or something, one I don’t want to attend to by myself.”

I stare at her. And then, for absolutely no reason, I feel tears well in my eyes.

Oh, fuck. Now this is what I hate most about despair.

In seconds, I’m wailing, my sobs loud and unrestrained. I bury my face in my hands, too embarrassed to look up at my friend. She lets out a sound of sympathy, her arms enclosing me. I’m barely aware of her guiding me out of the room and into the hallway, but when I manage to look up, we’re in our living room .

She pushes me gently onto the recliner, then sits cross-legged on the floor in front of me.

“Come on now, Charlie,” she says, looking less pissed and more comforting. “Let it all out. The sooner you free yourself of it, the less it has the power to harm you.”

I blink, wiping more tears from my eyes. There’s a giant black hole echoing inside of me, one that is so damned large nothing will be able to fill it. Not a successful business, not approval from my family, not even having my ballet career back.

Only him.

“What are you talking about?” Sometimes, it works to distract myself by speaking to other people. Or so I like to tell myself. “Let what out?”

“Everything you’re feeling,” Haley says. “You know, I still don’t know what happened. One second, you’re shooting each other jealous looks across a crowded restaurant and living together. The next, you’re back on my doorstep, wailing your eyes out and refusing to get out of bed. I let you wallow for a bit, but you’ve not even slightly improved. You need to tell me precisely what happened so I can figure out how to help you.”

Emotionally stable me would have balked at the idea of doing that. But Haley’s right. I am a mess, and I’m tired of sorting through this on my own.

“We aren’t together,” I hear myself mutter.

Haley scooches closer. “What?”

“We aren’t together anymore.” I look into her prying eyes. “Not at all. Right before Christmas, he was pissed at me. Because,” I swallow, “I told him why I shut him out. And he had no reaction whatsoever. He just left.”

“So, there’s a real reason? I knew it!” She glances at me and rearranges her face into a somber expression. “Sorry. ”

Quickly, I fill her in on the ten-year-old tale, including Ken admitting he loved me and my ankle breaking. Haley sits wide-eyed as I conclude the story with Ken accusing Kali of planting the weights and how no one seemed to believe him at the party.

I don’t need to tell her the most agonizing part of it though, what has happened over the last four days. Ken has disappeared. There were no games scheduled over the Christmas break, and I wasn’t able to look for him at the stadium. He changed his locks, his number, everything. I haven’t heard from him since the Christmas party. Every day, I wait for Haley to leave for work and go and check his apartment.

I know now what it was like for him when I ghosted him all those years ago. And it feels even worse than I would have ever imagined. It’s a million heartbreaks in one, especially when I recall that I was too scared to even tell him that I believe him.

He’s never going to know that. Nor that I’m in love with him.

Realization hits me then. The rage I feel is directed toward one person only. I’m angry at myself for doing that to Ken. For letting go of him and never giving him the chance to explain.

Haley reaches out and squeezes my hand when I’m done with the story. “Gosh, Charlie. I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t deserve your sympathy,” I say, gently pulling my own hand away. “I caused everything. It’s all my fault.”

“No.” Haley sounds so sure I almost believe her. “I can imagine how you must have felt then, tripping over the weights and knowing they were his. You were a kid and dealing with a lot. You couldn’t have been expected to have a rational reaction.”

I’m shaking my head before she even stops speaking. “That’s not it. I could have asked. I could have chosen to assume that there was an explanation. He would have. But I didn’t.”

“Why?” Haley’s question is silent and simple, but it’s one I don’t have an answer to.

At least, not an answer I can verbalize.

So, I settle for one of the foremost thoughts in my brain. “We got the restaurant back because of him. He saved me… He let me stay married to him with absolutely no strings attached. Because I asked him to.” More tears leak out of my eyes. Just thinking about everything makes me want to burrow into a literal hole and die of misery.

Or fear. Fear is definitely one of the emotions I’m feeling.

“Look,” Haley says, grabbing my knee tightly. “I know you made a mistake. Haven’t we all? But you can’t keep beating yourself up about it. You’re sorry, and the moment you see him, you’re going to tell him.”

I think of Ken’s last gaze as he looked around the party for someone to be in his corner. “I’m never going to see him again.” I know that as well as I know my own name. He completely lost faith in everyone. In ever receiving love from his family.

“You never know.” Haley gives me a quizzical smile. “This guy has been in love with you since forever. Nothing—not a single damn thing—can stop that kind of love. He can’t stay away for much longer. He’ll have to come out soon for his training and the next game.”

Inexplicably, I feel an undercurrent of fear pulse through me. Being loved like that, wholly and without reservations, scares me to hell. Somehow, it scares me more now than it did back as a teenager.

Haley’s phone starts to buzz loudly. She takes it out of her pocket and frowns at it. “Okay, this is like the thirtieth time the chef’s called. We need to get down there. Get dressed and come with me. Trust me, working will take your mind off things.”

I know something is going on from the moment Haley and I step off the curb and start to head to the restaurant. For one, the whole sidewalk is packed. Several dozen people are crowding around the front door, most of them looking like they’re fighting to get through. My heart seizes with panic—did a fire break out?

“Why do they all look excited?” Haley murmurs to me as we walk up to the gigantic crowd. “I mean, I know our food is good, but is it this good?”

I open my mouth to respond, but something distracts me, the flash of a camera. I turn around. There are more people milling about, taking photographs.

“Now I’m really glad I asked you to come,” Haley says. “I don’t think I’d want to push through by myself.”

“Let’s go around back,” I mutter.

We push our way through the teeming crowd, going over to the side entrance. With each step we take, I’m even more convinced that there’s some sort of a mistake. None of the people pushing against us seem to acknowledge us. Both our pictures are on the restaurant website. We should get a bit of recognition, shouldn’t we?

We go down the narrow path, stopping at the backdoor to the kitchen. It has already been flung open, and Denise, one of our waitresses, is standing right by it. From the looks of it, she’s been waiting for our arrival.

“Finally!” she sighs. “I called both of you a million times.”

“We’re here,” Haley says, stepping through first. “What the fuck is going on?”

I look around the kitchen, distracted. Both chefs are working on whipping up food at breakneck speed, assisted by the waiters. I want to ask them who is taking the orders and serving the meals, but all I can think of is the fact that I’m back here, in the kitchen where Ken first told me he was going to give me a loan and help me make my business successful.

And judging by the people outside, he kept his promise.

Pain slices through my heart, and I feel tears start in my eyes again. I close them and take a deep breath, an undercurrent of frustration plowing through me. I can’t live like this anymore, waking up and existing in misery, bursting into tears at all times of day.

“Um, Charlie?”

I force my tears back and focus on Denise and Haley, who are both staring at me with perplexed faces.

“Yes?” I slap on my most stoic mask. This is the business I fought so hard for. I’m going to run it, even if it’s the last thing I do.

“Did you hear what Denise just said?” Haley’s face is white with shock.

“No. What?” I feel a thrill of foreboding as I glance at Denise. It’s difficult to tell whether it’s good news or bad news. She looks stressed, just like everyone else here.

“It’s true.” Haley’s voice is barely a whisper. “A celebrity is here. ”

Even in the depths of my sorrow, I feel a smirk coming on. “Sure, there is.”

Denise looks shocked by my reaction. “Are you sure you heard what Haley said?”

“Probably some kid-famous YouTuber with two million subscribers.” Good for business, of course, but it only means that I’ve got to spend the next three hours doting on a narcissist used to first class treatment.

Haley rolls her eyes at my cynicism. “So, who is it?”

Denise, looking scandalized, opens her mouth to respond. Then she slams it shut. “I think you better see for yourself.”

With those words, she turns and marches out, leaving Haley and me to exchange puzzled looks before we follow her.

Stepping through the kitchen door to the dining area feels like being transported to another realm. It’s not as full—everyone in here is seated, at least. Still, that barely matters. Dozens, maybe even hundreds of people, are screaming at the windows, blocking out every ounce of sunlight with their bodies pressed against each other. My heart lurches with fear. Behind me, Haley lets out a whimper.

“What did we do to them?” she mutters to me.

I barely hear her, noticing four bulky men standing guard at the door and preventing more people from entering.

“Who are those guys?” I ask Denise, fully distracted from the thoughts of Ken for the first time in a while. “Did you hire security? Are we in trouble?”

Denise is smirking now. In answer, she nods toward the serving counter.

I turn to where a handful of people are gathered, taking orders. I recall the question I thought of earlier, about who they got to serve the meals since the waitstaff is helping to cook. But before I can even utter the question this time, I spot the answer all by myself…

…Faye Strummer.

Faye fucking Strummer, global pop icon and double-platinum musician, is standing behind my counter, serving my patrons.

My body breaks out in a cold sweat. I blink frantically, trying to make sure I’m not seeing an apparition. This could be just my imagination. There’s no freaking way.

Behind me, Haley literally crashes to the floor. I hold out my hand to pull her up. She takes it and stands up, but her jaw is still very much on the ground. She looks like she’s forgotten how to speak.

“See?” Denise seems to be enjoying our reaction. “I told you it was epic.”

I look around at the mass of people. Everything is slowly making sense. The article that was released, the crowd, even the fact that they are still ordering food. Faye seems to be taking selfies with doting fans, and her staff have developed an efficient system in the space of a few short minutes. I watch as a sobbing girl walks up to the counter and orders a cinnamon bun—my heart thrums with pain again. There are a couple of other girls behind the counter with Faye, assisting her in taking orders and handing them to my staff.

“Wow,” Haley mutters under her breath. She seems to have finally regained her voice. “She’s doing our job better than us. Wonder if she’ll want to get paid at the end of the day.”

“She said I should let her know when you come in,” Denise chimes in. Her face clouds with excitement as she slips behind the counter, heading for Faye. I watch her, paying closer attention to the women next to her.

Am I imagining it, or do they look familiar? Too familiar, even.

“I can’t believe it,” Haley is whisper-screaming. “Faye knows us? She wants to meet us? You think she read our website?”

“No.”

Haley glares at me in surprise, but I’m too focused on the girls helping Faye. A pit forms in my stomach as I attach names to the faces. Britney Steinmann, wife of former Philly Titans player Alex Steinmann, is handling the cash till. Beside her is the beautiful, curvy brunette, Harper Turner, who also happens to be the wife of another hockey player, Reggie Turner.

Faye Strummer—Blake White’s wife — didn’t just find this restaurant by accident. This isn’t a chance meeting, one where she tries to help a local business.

It’s an ambush.

I’m suddenly filled with the urge to turn and walk out of the kitchen, hell, to keep walking until I’m back in my room and swaddled underneath a dozen blankets. And yet, all I can do is watch as Denise strides up to Faye, the glee still evident on her face. One of Faye’s guards, who is shadowing her, lets her pass. I watch as Denise whispers into Faye’s ear.

She turns around and fixes her warm eyes on me. The other two women follow her gaze.

“Oh my God.” I know from Haley’s voice that she just realized what’s going on. “Is this about…Ken?”

I swallow a large ball in my throat. It’s the epitome of irony, really. The first day I decide to stop wallowing about Ken and go to work, I’m waylaid by the wives of his buddies.

The next few moments pass by in a blur. I’m dimly aware of Denise shuttling me toward Faye, and my exchanging hugs with all of the women. Faye introduces herself, or she must have, because I can barely remember. The next thing I know, Faye’s chatting with Haley, taking a couple of selfies with her and asking if she can borrow me while Haley takes over.

I’m prodded into my office in less than ten minutes by the three hockey wives.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Charlie.” Up close, Faye seems…normal. She’s still as breathtakingly beautiful as her music posters and in her dance videos, and there’s an ethereal glow about her, like a quantum field that pulls you in. Yet, she seems human. She’s taller than me, her red hair cascading down her back, a few freckles painted on her nose.

Plus, she’s talking to me like we’re old friends.

“How do you know me?” It’s a lame opening question, especially since I know the answer, but I can’t think of anything else to say.

“You’ve been making all our husbands miserable,” she snorts.

“What?” I croak.

The three women exchange glances and start giggling. It’s like they are in on a secret joke. I’m positive they are not making fun of me, but I still feel tears threatening. It appears all I can do nowadays is cry, really. I blink furiously, hoping they don’t notice.

“Sorry,” Britney chokes out after a while. “You haven’t been making our husbands miserable, of course. But you did do something to Ken Edwards, your husband .” She emphasizes that last word. “Remember him? He’s sulking and sad, so all our husbands are in on the ‘I’m feeling sorry for myself vibe.’”

My chest burns. The women could not be more cordial, and it’s obvious they’re joking to get me to relax. Still, I feel like I’m standing in front of a tribunal.

“You know about our marriage,” I mutter, as Faye links her arm with mine and leads me to sit in my chair. “He told his buddies?”

They exchange glances again. Faye speaks up first. “Ken has been really chatty lately. Told his friends all about you, and it traveled down the pipeline. But I suspected there was more to it.”

Of course . Blake was always around in the beginning, when Ken and I first got together.

“Ken has been staying with us,” Britney explains. “It’s the thick of the season, and he needs to concentrate on his game. Playoffs are coming up.”

Why does it feel like she’s trying to explain away Ken’s absence? Like she thinks I’m really his wife or something.

“Our marriage is—was fake.” My voice is a little higher than I would like it to be, and it sounds like I’m on the verge of tears. Still, I have to make this absolutely clear. “It wasn’t real. We got married to help my business. It’s fake. That’s all there is to it.”

Not that I’m ever going to need help with this business again. Faye Strummer walking into my restaurant and taking over the service, even for a few hours, was groundbreaking. Overnight millionaires have been made with less effort from a less iconic popstar.

Even now, I realize how much my life will change, starting immediately. Still, all I can think of is the fact that an annulment is most likely on the horizon .

Stashing that thought away, I look up at the three women. None of them seem surprised by my words.

“Doesn’t seem fake to Ken,” Faye mutters, a gentle hand on my shoulder. “And it doesn’t seem like it is to you, either.”

Something about her tone causes a burning in my throat. I fix my gaze at my feet, suddenly unable to look them in the eyes. “How is he?” I sound pathetic, but I’ve just got to know.

“Looks about as well as you do,” Britney says. “Like I said, even his friends are shocked to see him this way.”

I brush away the tears before they can fall down my cheeks. While we were growing up, Ken maintained a smile even during the worst of times. Knowing that he’s now a full-on mess doesn’t help with my misery at all.

“I know he doesn’t want to see me, but…”

“On the contrary,” Harper pipes up. “We think he does want to see you.”

That forces me to look up at them again. If they believe that, they’ve been living under a rock. “What did he tell you about…what happened?”

“Not much,” Faye admits. “I know about your marriage and that something happened. Something involving your families. But we are sure he does want to see you.”

I hate that her words make me cling to hope, even after all I’ve been through. I will sound clingy and desperate, but I still want to know more. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because it’s obvious.” Harper shrugs.

I feel a mix of exasperation and envy rising inside me. Things are way too easy for these women. In their fairytale world, romance is a simple, reciprocal thing. None of them can understand the rollercoaster Ken and I have been through this past year. They can’t even begin to comprehend the trepidation I feel about seeing him again.

Hell, even now, I don’t know what the best-case scenario would be. Even if Ken were to come back, what then? Do we get together for real? Stay married?

Even now, that thought makes me want to lurch out of my chair and keep running. Sometimes, I don’t know what’s stronger, my love for Ken or my fear regarding everything that could still go wrong.

The three women are looking at me, waiting for a response. It’s hard to compose my thoughts, and I mutter, “It’s not that simple.”

They exchange glances for what seems like the hundredth time. And then, before anyone can say anything, there’s a loud wail from the main restaurant, followed by someone screaming, “We want Faye!”

Britney and Harper roll their eyes, but Faye just chuckles.

“Sounds like your staff might need a few extra hands,” Britney says, pushing her way through to the door. “I better go see what’s going on.”

She slips through the door, giving me a brief glimpse of two of Faye’s guards. The door closes and they vanish out of sight again.

Faye hops on my desk, and Harper takes a seat across the table. I realize that I feel more comfortable with their presence than I did ten minutes ago. This feels almost like the conversation I had with Haley this morning.

“I can relate to your story more than you might realize.” It’s Harper speaking now. “Reggie struggled with the idea of falling in love. He hadn’t even had a real relationship before he met me. It was turbulent there for a while. ”

“Blake was the same way,” Faye says. “Had a whole lot of commitment issues.”

I look from one face to another, surprised despite myself. I was already concocting a perfect romance for each of these women in my head. Still, when I think back over our story, I know we’re not in the same boat. Ken confessed his love to me ten years ago and never looked back.

“Ken doesn’t have commitment issues,” I say.

“I know.” Faye laughs. “But you do.”

I’ve never been so gob-smacked in my life. Being told you have commitment issues by an international pop star while sitting at my office desk is the most shocking thing that has happened to me in the last year. And that’s saying a lot.

“What?”

“Blake told me a little about your history,” Faye confesses. “He seems to think you wanted his brother more, and that’s why you didn’t say yes to him. But that didn’t make a whole lot of sense, to me at least. Ken’s brother seems a little…toxic. Plus, Blake said you and Ken were best friends. I knew something was off.”

Commitment issues. I want to deny it, but all I can think of is what my mother said, “ Exactly like me. Couldn’t settle for the nice guy. Had to be the other one. ”

Faye seems to be reading my thoughts. “Take this from someone who literally ran away on her wedding day. Sometimes, we accept the kind of love we think we deserve. Growing up in an emotionally twisted household convinces us that we are not worthy. And then we settle for a subpar relationship, not only because it’s familiar and we think we don’t deserve better, but also because we know it will hurt less when they leave us.”

Faye is speaking casually, but her words cut deep, right to my very soul. For the first time in months, maybe years, my thoughts seem to finally make sense.

I consider her theory. Dealing with the emotional desert that is my parents, living my childhood and teenage life for the sole purpose of pleasing them, yet always coming up short. Then finding a kindred soul next door in Ken, the boy I quickly got attached to because we understood each other. Dating Kali because he was safe. Turning down Ken because I’d rather never have him than possibly have to deal with losing him.

She’s right. She’s so fucking right, it feels like she just shined a beam of light into my dark soul.

Commitment issues, passed down from my mother. What a cliché.

“You look like she just punched you in the face,” Harper says with a wan smile.

I nod, too struck to even think of what to say. Thank you? You’re right? Nothing seems appropriate in the light of this groundbreaking revelation.

How could I not have known this about myself? For ten years, I thought I was running from Ken because he betrayed me. But even before the fall, I was scared. Even after learning who was really responsible, my fear is still churning in the chambers of my heart.

The problem has never been Ken.

It’s been me all along.

“I know it’s a lot to unpack. I had to deal with a lot of that when I fell for Blake. But to really move forward, you’ve got to ask yourself one question.”

Now I’m back to thinking that she doesn’t understand. Yeah, I might have commitment issues, but our problems far surpass that. He’s never going to forgive me for not taking his side back at that Christmas party. He’s never going to be able to look past the fact that I believed he was responsible for my accident.

If I factor in my commitment issues, I think that he may just go straight to hating me. Because a part of me is starting to think I decided to believe that Ken hurt me intentionally. It was safer to assume he did it, so that I could bury my feelings under a brick wall of resentment.

Only that didn’t go the way I had hoped. Even before last week, when I knew for sure that Ken was not the one responsible, my love for him had broken through the cracks. How could it not? While I was playing him like a fiddle—and after he found out I was using him—he’d helped me through one of the worst moments of my life, not complaining even once.

But I’ve gone ahead and ruined it now. I’m not the only person in this equation anymore. Ken’s feelings matter. I’ve hurt him way too many times. I hurt him enough to estrange him from his own family.

Things are much too complicated. I know it, even if Faye doesn’t.

“You’ve got to be really honest and ask yourself one question,” Faye repeats. Her green eyes are fixed on me; she seems to be staring deep into my soul.

“What?” I ask, in spite of myself. Still can’t help hoping that this is as simple as she makes it seem.

She pauses for a moment. “You’ve got to ask yourself if you love Ken enough.”

Of course I do. The thought springs instantly to my head as my eyebrows knit in confusion. Faye knows that.

“Do you love Ken enough to let go of your fear and chase a real future with him, even though it scares you? Do you love him enough to do something about it? ”

Her words resound heavily in the silent room. I stare at her, my heart and mind churning.

Harper lets out a low whistle. “Damn, Faye. If you weren’t a successful pop star already, I’d be recommending you write a therapy column in my magazine.”

Faye chuckles. “I’ve read a few of Rumi’s love poems.”

I stare down at the floor again. For days, I’ve been on my bed, moping about Ken’s departure from my life. But I’ve never considered what would actually happen when I finally see him. What would I do? Apologize? Confess my feelings? Tell him I want to make this official? Or settle for that weird in-between place that I’ve gotten used to over the past few months?

I replay Faye’s words over in my head.

“ Do you love him enough to do something about it? ”

Fear is clawing up my throat again. But for the first time, there’s an undercurrent of peace beating away in my heart.

For the first time, I know what to do.