Page 77 of The Pucking Fake Marriage

“Fuck, Charlie. You’re the worst acid trip ever. And yet, I can’t help taking the ride over and over.”

I let out a giggle for what feels like the first time in months. “I’m sorry.” Feels like I’m never going to be able to apologize enough. “I know I disrupted your usual routine today, and your friend Blake probably hates me now.”

“On the contrary,” I hear Ken mutter against my hair. “He’s kind of in awe. Hijacking a hockey rink to confess your love… He did something similar when he first started going out with Faye. You earned his respect. He was adamant I listen to you.”

I pull back slightly to look at him. All of the pain of the last few weeks seems to have burned off into nothingness. Yet, there’s still a pang of disbelief in my heart.

“So, this is it? We’re together now, for real?” My own words cause a weakening of my knees. Not out of fear or even nervousness, though, but of the purest form of excitement.

“Well…” Ken draws me closer again, nuzzling my neck. My breath stills as his hands find my ass cheeks, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. “We’ll be together in a minute or so, when I start showing you how much I missed you. But for now, it’s enough for me to know that you love me. And that I love you.”

It’s only the second time I’m hearing him say that, but it feels like the millionth time. Ken has showed me the truth behind those words many times before, more than anyone I’ve ever known.

I open my mouth to restate my love, but I can’t find the words—he’s already pulling my gown upward, pulling apart my thighs. I moan as he slips a finger inside me, mymuscles clenching around him. My brain shuts down as he peels the dress off me. His hardness grazes against my thighs, lighting several fires inside me.

I reach upward to kiss him on the lips, still bereft of words but overcome with passion.

Maybe this is one of the times I’m better off showing than telling, too.

EPILOGUE

FULL CIRCLE (CHARLIE)

Five months later…

Seriously, Las Vegas bars are just different. And not in a good way.

I quell the stream of discomfort in my belly as I look around the room. Whydoes this place have to be so dark, anyway? I can’t make out any person’s features, even those closest to me. Still, the noise is deafening. People drinking, dancing, partying loudly. Even the people huddled in the booths in the far corner of the room are making noise by drumming on their tables.

At least I don’t have to go all the way over there this time. “Meet me at the bar,”he said.

Striding across the room, I keep my head up, adjusting my skirt as I walk. It’s a slightly longer version of the one I wore last time, but it still rides up my thighs as I move. A strong wave of déjà vu hits me with every step I take. It feels like I’ve lived this scene of my life before.

That’s kind of true. Only, I get to live it again without the bundle of anxiety and nerves that riddled me last time. I already know that this story ends well.

The farther I walk in, the darker the room gets. The bar is spread out to my right side, several feet of gleaming mahogany wood raised above dozens of barstools. I walk by several of these, only stopping at the far end, where I finally see him.

Ken. He’s grown out his hair over the past few months, and the dark waves curl around his chin and over his ears. His handsome face seems to glow, and his smile lights a fire in the pit of my stomach.

My heart misses a beat. I only saw him a few hours ago, but right now, it feels like it’s been days. My knees feel weaker as I close the gap between us. I start to reach for the stool beside him, but then…

“Fuck that.” He pats his thigh. “Come sit on my lap.”

A grin forms on my face. “That subtle, huh?”

“I’ve gone hours without feeling your skin against mine. I’m going to say fuck subtlety.”

I sit down on him. His arms wrap around me, and I melt against him. Just eleven months ago, Ken and I were right in this spot, and I was trying to work through the smartest-slash-dumbest idea in the world, depending on who you asked. My life was a mess.

And now, life couldn’t be any better. First, the restaurant is thriving. Over the past few months, I’ve managed to pay off all my loans, including to my parents. We’re opening up another location in Fishtown because of the demand. The Faye hype is far from gone. People still troop in every day, mostly because we have carved out a brilliant niche for ourselves—meals with a genuine homemade feel.

But that’s not even the best part. That award goes to Ken, my husband. I’m still filled with amazement when I think of being married to him. We never did have a formal ceremony. We didn’t feel the need, since we were alreadylegally married. Having a real marriage involved heartfelt midnight conversations and therapy sessions, but it was still the most fulfilling part of my life. Literally, it feels like I’ve been waiting for this since I was born.

“How was the party?” I ask. Three weeks ago, the Philly Titans finished the season as the second best in the league. In usual fashion, they came out to Las Vegas to celebrate. But Ken missed most of these outings because he’d been hanging out with me. Today, I decided to kick him out of our hotel room to go for one of their meetups.

“Boring.” He nuzzles deeper into my neck. “Couldn’t wait to leave. We’ll be meeting for some drinks here in a while, but at least I’ve got this time with you first.”

His cock is digging into my thighs, confirming his words. I rub against him automatically, moaning at the friction of our bodies together.

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