Page 5 of The Pucking Fake Marriage (The Ice Kings #4)

FOUR

THE LONG CON (CHARLIE)

“You married him?”

It’s five hours later, and Haley is staring down at me as if I am insane. We’re back to our messy apartment in Point Breeze, a two-bedroom fifteen minutes away from our restaurant. We only have one oversized recliner, the kind that can only sit one person at a time. Which is good enough because Haley has been pacing since I fessed up.

“Let me get this straight.” She runs her hand through her short black hair, not taking her gaze from me. “You went to Las Vegas without even telling me?”

Maybe I shouldn’t have shared this with her. I knew my plan was a little bit off the charts, but I didn’t expect my best friend looking at me like I was the biggest idiot in the world.

“Yes.”

“ And you convinced Ken to leave his friends behind to go on a drinking binge with you?”

“Yes.”

“ Then you got him to marry you in one of those cheesy chapels? ”

I feel a guilty squirm in my stomach. I skipped a step. The one in which Ken thrust into me all through the night.

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe this,” she mutters. “You did this all because of the restaurant? And your dad?”

I bow my head in shame. “Yeah,” I mutter.

Becoming a business owner was something I planned since I started college and put my ballet dreams aside. I majored in business and minored in entrepreneurial studies, deciding I wanted to own a restaurant during my second year. I love cooking. I hung out at the Edwards house a lot, trying out healthy recipes with their mother. I talked it over with my dad, and he loved the idea. My grandmother had run a small deli when he was growing up. The idea of a family business that could be passed down appealed to him. That settled my decision.

My plan was perfect. First, to work for four years in other businesses, painstakingly saving up money and learning everything I could. Then to look for a location. One of the cutesy little restaurants in the 13 th Street Corridor was selling, and scrapping together all of mine and Haley’s savings—plus a loan from my parents—meant we could buy it. Yeah, there was competition, but I was sure I could manage. Many of the old staff quit, and I had problems getting a chef that aligned with my concept, but things still worked out fine.

Until barely three months after I took over, a nasty review was printed in the local newspaper, labeling my restaurant as the “worst place to eat in Center City.” Apparently, the reviewer had visited incognito and claimed that he had uncovered a large, dirty nail in his salad.

True or not, the nosedive started from there, which got even worse when a brand-new restaurant was opened down the street—one that focused on vegan fusion cuisine for half the price, headed by a Michelin star chef. Just one year after opening, my restaurant is in shambles. I have no staff except for Haley, who’s only staying because she invested her savings in my harebrained scheme and has no choice but to go down with the sinking ship.

I could call it quits and admit defeat. But that’s not my style. Seeing the disappointment in my parents’ eyes—again—would ruin me.

So, I decided to revamp. Change up the menu, redecorate, rebrand under a new name, hire competent staff, the whole shebang. Only, that all costs money. I needed a loan.

Which wasn’t as easy as I had hoped.

“We can’t give you anything close to this amount,” the bank manager, Mr. Holloway, a good looking, middle-aged man, informed me flatly. “We simply do not have any indication we’re going to get it back from you. You’ve got no landed property, no cars, no family who’s willing to take the payment up if you default…”

I felt a pang, recalling my mother’s words when I’d asked for her help again. “You can’t ask us to mortgage our house on your vanity project, Charlotte. Not when we’ve already given you money. We need all the resources we have for your father’s treatments; you know that.”

She was right. With his cancer diagnosis, my father was hanging onto life for two reasons: to see me get married and to see me become successful. If I couldn’t do either of those, the least I could do is not drain him even more.

“If you were married,” Mr. Holloway continued, “we could take the risk and give you the loan if your spouse had considerable assets, but…”

“I’m not,” I finished for him. I rarely get touchy about being single, but being reminded of yet another failure was a little too much to bear.

“Shame,” Mr. Holloway said. “A marriage certificate added to your other documents could make a world of difference.”

A marriage certificate was all that stood between me and my loan.

People marry for all sorts of reasons. A marriage to get a loan wasn’t that bad in the grand scheme of things.

But it still went against my values, somehow. Even though I didn’t see myself marrying one day, I respected the institution enough to be wary of faking it. But then, a few more calls from my mother, some well-placed barbs about how my father’s treatment would be more bearable if their only daughter could help out with payments, and I decided to go for it. My failures weren’t just impacting me anymore. A turnaround would help my family, too.

Once I decided, I realized it couldn’t just be anyone. Since it had to be a successful man, I narrowed the list down quickly. And Ken Edwards was by far the most successful man I knew. Granted, we’d not spoken in ten years, but I knew I could find a way to make it work.

A way that did not involve groveling at his feet and begging him to marry me.

“But you know him.” Haley furrows her forehead, looking puzzled. “You could’ve asked him to lend you the money…or you could’ve told him you needed to marry him.”

“No,” I say, so sharply that Haley rears back and hits the TV. “Sorry,” I say in a calmer voice. “It’s not that straightforward.”

Her look is even more confused. Emotions are roaring in my chest, but I refuse to translate them into words. She’s never going to understand why I couldn’t let Ken know about the marriage. Instead of trying to explain, I reach for the marriage certificate, which is on the small coffee table between us. The document feels like a ray of sunshine in my hands, and I know why. I can get my future back with it, create a life that finally pleases my parents.

Still, internalizing the fact that I’m married to Ken makes me want to scream and pull out my hair. Especially after the scene at the restaurant. After his threat. My heart beats a little faster at that, but I push the thought out of my mind. Ken can’t just keep showing up to terrify me. Not just because it means I could have sex with him again. But because he can’t find out about my ploy. Not yet.

I can prevent him from showing up, somehow. I will prevent it.

“Just think of what getting a loan will do for our business,” I say to Haley, trying to get her to focus. “We’ll start renovating, rebranding. It’s going to be good, you’ll see.”

Still don’t know how I’m going to get an annulment from Ken without letting him know, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.

“Yeah, I suppose.” Haley shrugs. She doesn’t sound as excited as I would like her to be. She looks around our dumpy little living room. “We should start by getting a better apartment.”

I nod as Haley, seemingly satisfied, reaches for the remote control, dumping herself in front of the recliner. I’m on the verge of experiencing relief about the inquisition being over when she turns back to me.

“I don’t know how you’re certain he doesn’t know that you got married. I mean, he might’ve been furious with you because of that.”

“He doesn’t.” I sound surer than I really am, but I hope it’s the truth. “He was drinking more than I was, and I…” And since we ended up banging in a garden just outside the chapel, it’s more than likely he forgot everything else.

Haley’s green eyes narrow suspiciously under her black bangs. “And you what?” It sounds like she’s gotten to her conclusion already. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh my God.” The words come out in a scream, but she’s grinning. “You screwed him, didn’t you? That’s how you got him to do this in the first place.”

My cheeks turn pink. “Haley, I…”

“I can’t believe it,” she screeches, jumping to her feet. “That’s why he’s freaking pissed. Cause you screwed him and abandoned him in Las Vegas. That’s all he can remember.”

“I—”

“Did you like it?”

This conversation is easily becoming the worst one I’ve ever had. Unbidden, a memory comes sliding up my mind, Ken’s mouth taking my nipple, sucking at it. I close my eyes, trying to will the thoughts away. When I blink them open, Haley is staring at me.

“It was fine.” My voice is prim, proper. “That’s all I’m saying.”

Haley rolls her eyes and turns back to the TV. It’s clear she knows what the answer is. She finally turns it on, switching channels, until she arrives on a ballet performance.

“Oh, I’ve been waiting for this,” she cries. “The Philadelphia Ballet’s Swan Lake !”

My ankle throbs with phantom pain. Even after all these years, there’s a ball lodged in my throat as I watch the young women on stage, dancing gracefully with their arms outstretched over their white tutus .

Haley’s eyes are still glued to the TV. “I used to beg my mom to register me in ballet classes. I was desperate to be one of them. She always said I was too tall and too old. Most girls start training when they are five, apparently. I only learned about them when I turned ten.”

“I used to practice ballet.” My voice sounds odd, distorted.

Haley turns to me, her eyes wide. “Really? I had no idea.”

“I don’t talk about it much.” The ball in my throat is growing larger, and I suddenly feel the urge to shield myself from her gaze.

Haley’s look turns sympathetic. “Why? Did you hate it? I know a lot of girls say they were forced into it by their mothers.”

“No.” I finally swallow. “I broke my ankle when I was eighteen. It healed, but I could never dance again.”

“Oh.” Haley retains her look of sympathy for one more moment before her expression turns nostalgic. “Do you wonder what your life would’ve been like if you hadn’t broken your ankle? You wouldn’t be running the restaurant, that’s for sure. And we never would’ve met. Would you have even attended college?”

There’s a strange fire burning in my chest. I force a smile at her. “Probably not.” I keep the smile on until Haley looks away and I can let it slip off my face. I want to look away from the TV, but I can’t find the strength to, so I keep watching the performance, the women whose lives could have been mine.

The piece goes on for another twenty minutes, and once, I think I glimpse Kali in Prince Siegfried. I know that’s ridiculous because he’s left the PBT years ago to start a private ballet school .

He’s living his dream. Exactly like Ken.

I’m the only failure of the formerly golden trio.

Finally, the performance rounds up and Haley switches the channel, yawning widely.

“I’ve got to crash,” she says, leaping to her feet. She turns to me quizzically one last time, and I feel a thrill of foreboding.

“I’m not going to ask,” she says, obviously reading the look in my eyes. “But I would like to know why you can’t stand Ken Edwards. I mean, he’s scorching hot, sweet as pie, and you used to be friends. And you fancied him enough to fuck him. But you still sort of hate him. I can’t figure it out.”

I maintain my face in a passive expression as she wedges herself between the recliner and the wall and slips into her room. I switch the channel back and keep my gaze glued on the TV—on the ballet dancers, who are now taking a final bow. Tears sting my eyes as the phantom pain in my ankle grows stronger.

I still can’t figure out why you hate him.

Of course she can’t. No one can. When anyone else looks at Ken, all they see is the dashing, handsome hockey player.

Not the guy responsible for the accident that crushed my dream.