AllFreeNovel
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“Does Liam understand what he’s gotten himself into? I mean, the two of you might be okay faking being married and sharing space without it being a big deal…” She holds her phone up so I can see that she has forty-three notifications. “But what about everyone else? Our family isn’t exactly chill, and real life with the Hendrickses is no joke.”
As if to underscore her point, a new notification pops up.
My stomach sinks.
Misty takes another bite of pizza. “What’s that face about?”
“Mom’s throwing us a party.”
* * *
Liam
Accordingto all the unsolicited advice I’ve been getting now that word is out I’m hitched, marriage is an adjustment. It’s all about compromise, sacrifice and— according to Boomer, who I’m 95% sure has never even lived with anyone but his mom, sister, and Bowie —a fuck-ton of oral to get you past the initial growing pains… and then always on holidays.
But two weeks in, things are good. Really good. And I don’t want to fuck it up by disrespecting the lines we’ve drawn in this new stage of our fake marriage.
Obviously,headis off the table, so I’m doing my best not to think about getting my mouth between Stormy’s thighs again, no matter how fucking sweet she was. Like, I’m trying to keep the touching to a minimum at home.
So, no touching, unless it’s for show. We held hands when we had brunch with her parents last weekend. I kept my arm over the back of her chair at the Five Hole after our at-home win. And when I dropped her back at her office to pick up her car and grab a few things to work from home… okay, I may have overdone it with the hair-touching, hand-holding, bear hug, and burying my face in her neck before saying goodbye, but I wanted to make it good for anyone who might be watching.
And yes, a certain fuckwit was.
Tonight, though? Tonight’s the big show.
“It’s going to be fine,” Stormy swears, crossing from the closet we’re sharing even though she sleeps in the bedroom across the hall. “Totally fine.”
I’d be reassured if she was tellingme, but the fact that she’s spent the last two hours chanting affirmations to herself doesn’t scream confidence.
I’m not worried. I’m used to spending hours in front of a crowd of strangers both on the ice and off. While I’m not a press favorite, I’m no stranger to getting grilled. And for fuck’s sake, anyone’s family is a step up from mine.
That stray thought is enough to have me pulling my phone out to scan messages. There was a missed call from Jess a few days back but nothing since. It’s fine.
“This look okay?” she asks, smoothing her hands down a dove-gray dress with wide straps and one of those loose-looking scoop-neck things that sort of teases like you’re going to see something but then never gives it up.
“Gorgeous.” Really gorgeous. Damn, time to get out of here before I start getting ideas.
* * *
The party isat the country club Stormy’s parents belong to, and we spend the ride out cramming like we’re going into a test, listing relatives and hitting the SparkNotes versions of our personal histories.
She laughs easily, and when her head tips back and she gives in to it, the sound is so nice, I’m almost disappointed to have to share it with everyone else when we arrive.
The driver opens the door, and I climb out first, then hold out my hand to help her. She casts a tentative look toward the club entrance.
Drawing her into my side so my mouth is at her ear, I give her a quick hug. “We’ve got this.”
She nods but doesn’t look entirely convinced.
And not even five minutes later I know why.
“You sly dog, stealing our Stormy right out from under us…”
“Thought you’d lock our girl down before anyone could talk her out of it…”
“Treat her right, buddy. You might have a stick, but I’ve got a shovel…”
Over and over again I’m met with the same too-wide grin and faux-friendly air-boxing or borderline aggressive shoulder-claps of one uncle, cousin, or coworker after another.
