Page 21 of The Pucking Fake Marriage

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. Itwasa 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. Actuallybeggedhim 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, butmy 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 whyyouwould 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 reallyhave 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 veryhappy to see you back here, Mrs. Edwards.” Mr. Hollowaydoessound 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.

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