Page 7 of The Pucking Fake Marriage (The Ice Kings #4)

SIX

BETWEEN A ROCK AND KEN EDWARDS (CHARLIE)

I mentally brace myself for the weight of the call even before I pick up the phone. Yet, it doesn’t make it any easier when the words start pouring in.

“Any luck with the restaurant?”

I run my hand through my hair. I can tell she knows I’ve got nothing good to report. Maybe she even hopes I’ve got nothing to say, I think, then feel bad for thinking it. She’s my mother, for crying out loud. There’s no way she would intentionally wish me harm.

“Not yet, Mom.”

She sniffs. I can picture her back at home, sitting at the gleaming kitchen island. “You know, Ms. Edwards was just here. She told me how well Kali’s doing at the ballet school he founded. The kids idolize him.”

“Mom.” The last thing I want to hear is how successful my ex is, particularly when his twin is…

No. I force thoughts of Ken out of my mind before I can dissect them. I will not think of him. I cannot. Not of him, not of the most embarrassing sentence I’ve ever uttered in my life .

“Sorry.” She doesn’t sound like she is, though. “You know, I just wonder what your life would have been. What if you had stayed with him? And married him?”

“That would’ve been a little hard, you know, since he dumped me.” Our relationship ending was as hurtful as it was abrupt, but I was somewhat relieved. I was tired of hearing him talk about being in the PBT. It made my own failure that much harder to bear, even if I was moving on already.

“Yeah, but only because you were so mopey after the accident. A man wants joy, you know?”

Gee thanks, Mother.

“I really have to go, Mom,” I start, but she cuts in before I can get all the words out.

“You know, it’s not anyone’s fault you got that injury. I can tell you about my friends’ son’s success without you pitching a fit.”

I can already feel the start of a headache boiling underneath my skull. “I’m not pitching a fit.”

She doesn’t appear to hear me. “Kali is doing so good. You should be happy for him. We should all be happy for him. Besides, if you came home more often, maybe you could reconnect.”

My stomach contracts at the thought of getting back together with Kali. Yeah, we parted on good terms, and I even spoke to him during my first few years of college, unlike Ken. Still, the thought of being touched by Kali after everything with Ken…

I shake my head, forcing the thought out. This time, it doesn’t work as well. I’m brought back to my time in the gym. It was a happy coincidence, seeing Ken exactly when I was talking to Mr. Holloway. I couldn’t imagine a better way to convince Mr. Holloway I was truly married .

But then, things spiraled from there.

Taking me into the changing stall, pining me to the wall, touching me…

I crush my thighs together, heat rising to my cheeks. I’d been repeating the same mantra since Ken came into my life. To never let him touch me again, no matter what. But the moment he put my hand on his gigantic dick, I caved. Suddenly, I was left with the burning need to feel him in me again, right there, regardless of the fact that anyone could walk in and hear us.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, I’d begged him. Actually begged him to fuck me.

And he turned me down.

I hate how much that stung. Hate the fact that it still stings.

And I hate the fact that even the shame from that encounter isn’t enough to make me back away the next time Ken comes for me. I already know I’m going to. My resolve is way weaker than when I was a teenager, and adult Ken is far more capable at unraveling me than my childhood friend.

He’s going to be my undoing.

I try to listen to my mother’s words, but she’s still going on and on about Kali. I wonder whether to stop her by asking about my dad, but I decide not to. I’d much rather call him myself than let my mother use his illness to inform me, once more, how much of a disappointment I am.

“…can see why his parents love him,” she’s saying now. “Successful, handsome, kind. Comes home regularly.” She scoffs, and I feel a thrill of foreboding. “Unlike his brother.”

Great . Fucking peachy.

She waits for me to answer, and I venture weakly, “Ken is a popular hockey player.” I don’t mean to defend him, but my mother expects me to disagree with her on cue. It keeps the conversation going.

“He’s always been a bit of a rebel,” she says with another scoff. “Everyone knows he’s still the black sheep of the family, regardless of what the sports section says.”

“Choosing his own path doesn’t make him a rebel.” Now I’m full-on defending him, and I don’t know why.

“I see why you would think that.” My mother sounds like she’s been waiting to say this for a while. “You have a lot in common. Everything, even.”

Including a marriage certificate.

“Mom, I really have to go.”

“Wait,” she says, just before I can hang up. “I need to tell you something.”

I pause, already certain I’m not going to like it.

“We might be losing the house.”

My body grows rigid. “What?”

“We took out a second mortgage to pay for the experimental treatment.” There’s a twinge of hurt pride in her voice. “We thought it would work, and that he’d be resuming work shortly after. But that didn’t happen. And now, we have to come up with a way to settle the bill.”

Shame burns in me. For once, my mother isn’t accusing me, but I feel responsible regardless. I should be doing something to help out. If Mr. Edwards was sick with cancer, his sons would be able to afford his treatments.

“I’ll help.” I hate making financial promises, but I don’t resent this one. I waited a few months to submit the marriage certificate at the bank to help with validity, but I’ve waited long enough. Today’s the day I go and apply for a loan as Mrs. Edwards. I’ll apply for as much as I can, invest some money into the business, and send the rest back home .

“Really?” My mother sounds doubtful.

“Really.” I wish I felt as confident as I sound, but I’m still certain this is going to work.

It has to.

“I’m very happy to see you back here, Mrs. Edwards.” Mr. Holloway does sound more animated than the last time we spoke. I grin back, my tension easing somewhat. If he’s this happy to see me, then maybe I have more of a shot than I thought.

“Glad to be here,” I say, as he digs into the files piled on his desk and yanks out a relatively newer one. I can see my name written in bold on front, along with the term “Loan application.” There’s a low rumble in my stomach. I’m really about to do this.

“So, you have some more information for me?” His eyes are practically sparkling.

“Yes.” I falter for a moment, but then, I think of my parents losing the home they’ve lived in for thirty years. “Yes.” Digging into my purse, I produce a copy of my marriage certificate, the one I took great pains to secure.

Mr. Holloway’s eyes light up as he looks down at it. “Well, this does make a lot of difference. He opens the file and slips the paper inside. My heart is banging hard in my chest as he looks over at his monitor and starts to type on the keyboard. Finally, he looks back at me.

“He’s running late?”

He?

“What do you mean?”

Mr. Holloway looks at me like I’m making a joke. “Your husband. He’s coming, right?” He looks at the screen. “We need his social security number, some proof of living together, bills, you know. The bank usually requires that the business should be jointly owned too, but this is a requirement we’re willing to wave, seeing as the loan amount you require is less than…”

“Living together?” I croak. My tension returns two-fold, and my fingers are instantly clammy.

“Are you alright?” Mr. Holloway is staring at me. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Surely, I heard wrong. This is him playing a joke. A bad one. Mr. Holloway’s going to clear it up in no time.

“You need proof that we’re living together?” I ask, trying to sound like a pleasant wife on her honeymoon, not like a terrified debtor whose life’s unraveling around her. “Why? We’re married. Of course, we live together,” I wave at him dismissively.

Mr. Holloway looks at me like I’m insane. “I mentioned we’ll need paperwork.”

“Erm, no.” I suddenly find it hard to breathe. “You said, ‘a marriage certificate will make all of the difference.’ So, I brought that.”

He gazes in confusion. “Well, I thought I made it clear. This is a loan, a large amount of money, for that matter. We need to have proof that you and your husband aren’t separated. We need to run a credit check on him to make sure you’ll be able to make the payments, that you’re living together, not merely married because you want to obtain a loan. You do understand why we need to make certain of all this, right?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I’m the biggest idiot alive.

I crash back on the chair as color drains from my face. Everything I did—going to Las Vegas, getting together with Ken, making sure he married me and forgot about it—was for nothing. Nothing. I’m back where I was three months ago, only poorer and more aware of my foolishness.

And this had to happen after I made the commitment to support my family.

Ten minutes later, I walk out of Mr. Holloway’s office in a daze, barely paying attention to the dozens of other people streaming around the hallway of the bank. I walk into someone twice, and I’m too stunned to look back and apologize. Outside, with even more people walking past me, I’m dimly aware of dialing Haley’s number.

“Hi!” she says, after answering on the first ring. She’s still at home—we closed down the restaurant after we lost Troy. Temporarily, I promised her. Until I have the loan in my pocket.

A loan I can no longer secure.

I push words through my stiff lips, filling her in on everything that just happened. Then I pause, bracing myself. She could shout at me, call me an idiot. It’s not like I wouldn’t deserve it.

But when Haley speaks, she doesn’t do any of those things.

“Well, Charlotte,” she says. “There’s only one thing you can do now.”

“What’s that?” Eagerness rises up in me. I’m willing to do damn near anything, including mopping Mr. Holloway’s floors for a month.

“Tell Ken that you’re his wife.”