Page 38 of The Best Friend Power Play

I’ll never know because he simply smiled, dimples and all, and said the only word that mattered.

Yes.

That’s what I hoped he’d say because I want Culver to have that money.

The way I see it, this is karma shining a light on him. Good people deserve to have good things happen to them, and inheriting his grandfather's money will set him up for life and more than make up for what he lost when his friends ripped him off.

And okay, sure, there is the teeny tiiiny matter of getting to be Culver's wife.

Fake wife.

For a little while.

Because let's be honest—this is the closest I'm going to get. Culver is the total package, perfect husband material, so it's only a matter of time until he gets snapped up.

I mean, what's a hot girl summer without a fake marriage to your best friend slash man of your dreams who you're secretly in love with?

I am all in on my new mantra—if it feels good, do it.

And this feels good, so I'm doing it.

It's as simple as that.

"Culver?" I yell out, stepping out of my shoes and wandering into the kitchen.

It's empty, but there's sauce simmering on the stove top. I pick a spoon from the drawer and help myself to a bite.

Mmm.

My eyes slide shut, overwhelmed by the delectable Arrabbiata flavors playing across my tongue. It could very well be his best sauce yet, and believe me, they've been good every night this week.

We've fallen into a comfortable routine.

I come home to a clean house and a delicious aroma in the air.

Side note: after raising two teenagers, that right there is one of life's most underrated pleasures.

He sadly hasn't worn the apron yet, and he quickly changed the topic the two times I mentioned it, so I'm dropping the subject. Clearly, it's not going to happen.

We have dinner, catching each other up on our days, our lives.

He asks about the twins. They're fine. Katie is loving Wyoming. They're heading to Yellowstone National Park in a few days, and thanks to Chester, my knowledge of Dubrovnik Old Town in Croatia went from zero to feeling confident I can handle any trivia question thrown at me about it.

Two nights ago, Culver finally opened up about the results of his latest MRI.

He has a labral tear in his left hip. He called it mild, but seeing the pain it causes him, I'd have to disagree with that assessment.

He and his team have opted for non-surgical treatments at this stage, which include rest and activity management, physical therapy, and pain management. But if his condition deteriorates, arthroscopic surgery will be required.

Despite putting on a brave face and assuring me things will be fine, I can tell he's worried. This has huge implications for his career.

I may not be a hockey fanatic like a certain someone I know, but I've always followed Culver's career closely, from his junior playing days to winning back-to-back Stanley Cups with the Boston Bullets, and the difficult years he spent transferring from club to club before finally landing with the LA Swifts.

The last thing he wants is to lose his spot on the team—or worse, get released from his contract and become a free agent. He runs the risk of not being signed by another team, and given his injuries and age, that could mean the end of his career.

I lick the spoon clean, and as I place it into the sink, I spot Culver.

He's outside.

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