Page 45 of The Pucking Fake Marriage

THIRTEEN

GIVING THANKS (KEN)

Even though I haven’t seen my childhood home in almost four years, everything looks the same, down to the spot the turkey is placed on the kitchen table. Hell, it looks like I might’ve just stepped out after the last Thanksgiving I attended and came right back.

“You look amazing, Mom,” I say as I come down the stairs. She’s standing at the foot of them, her dark hair pulled in a tight ponytail, her trim body clad in an elegant jumpsuit. She looks stunning, having maintained her figure well into her sixties, same as my dad. They were both ballet dancers who met in a dance troupe.

Guess that’s why Kali always had a special place in their hearts.

“Did you comb your hair?” she reprimands, her brows furrowed. “I told you, we’re expecting visitors.”

I shrug. I’d barely listened to her speech yesterday, instructing me on how to behave on Thanksgiving Day. I’d just gotten in from the city. The last thing I wanted was to hear her order me around.

“The food looks good.” The view over the banister offers a great view of the Thanksgiving spread.

That comment seems to mollify her. “Come down,” she says. “I need your opinion on the gravy.”

I bite back a smile. Even after all this time, my mother and I still see eye-to-eye on food. It makes me remember just how many Thanksgiving dinners I cooked with her. There’s a strange tightening in my belly as I walk down the stairs, most likely due to thinking about Kali. The remnant of my childhood jealousy is rearing its head. He and my mom bonded over almost everything.

She scoops up a portion of the gravy with a spoon, and I give it a lick. “It’s perfect, Mom.” I can tell she knowsit is. She’s a terrific cook, and everyone is aware. Hell, she inspired Charlie to open a restaurant.

Charlie.My gut tightens even more, and I realize the real reason I was so tense coming down the stairs. Our house’s staircase still sours my heart even after all these years. It’s the place where Charlie broke her ankle and ended her dancing career.

Her shoulders sag with relief. My mother has always trusted my cooking judgments. “And the turkey? Is it a little too brown?”

I note its golden shade. “It looks just right.”

Her face breaks into the first smile I’ve seen since I arrived, but it disappears when she looks up. “You should comb your hair,” she points out again, her tone snapping back to critical. “Really. Now.”

Bonding moment over.

I start to go back up toward my childhood bedroom, a sense of déjà vu hitting me with each step. Still, I’ve now got another prevailing thought to distract me from memories, and I sink into it gratefully.

Charlie: the whole damn reason I’m here.

Two weeks ago, we ended up having explosive sex in her kitchen. I hadn’t given much thought to what would happen after that. Neither had she. In that moment, we craved each other, and we went for it.

A lot of good things happened after. Charlie’s father is well on his way to remission, and she hasn’t had reason to worry about money for a while. Also, the restaurant now serves cinnamon buns. Coach Tanner hasn’t snarled any negative remarks about my game for a while now, and that’s good because we’re playing our biggest match of the season in a couple of weeks.

On the other hand, though, the air between Charlie and me has been tense. Damn near scorching. We’ve barely had time to speak over the past two weeks. On the few occasions we’ve crossed paths back at the apartment, things were…strange.

Hard to say what’s going on in Charlie’s head, because she’s almost completely closed off again. It’s much easier to figure out where my mind is at. In theory, at least. Because every time I think of what I did, I wonder what the hell got into me that night.

It wasn’t just my normal horny self. There was a primal, feral force within me, a beastly nature I didn’t think I had. I’d taken her, not holding back. The fact that Charlie welcomed it doesn’t make me any less conflicted about it. About how I caved and fucked her, even though I swore I’d keep my hands to myself.

As far as I could tell, she was goading me. I planned to hold on even if she did that, but I caved.

We still have a couple of months to go until we can stop being husband and wife. If we’re here already, there’s notelling how much farther we will crash. How much fartherIwill crash.

Charlie told me only a few days ago that she planned on going back to her parents’ home for the holiday. It was a suggestion I both hated and didn’t mind all at once. Both of us stuck in my apartment for a long weekend was not a good idea. But then, the alternative was for me to stay there all by myself, her scent hanging over the rooms and torturing me.

So, I opted to come home instead.

However, I’m already regretting it. I drag my comb through my hair. Hopefully I’ll manage to survive the next few days stuck here without being reckless.

Like sneaking across the hedges to see Charlie.

When I return downstairs, my father is at the head of the table. He gives me a clap on the back and asks about my stats as my mother begins to bring in the plates. I fill him in as briefly as I can. Still, I notice his eyes start to glaze over rather quickly. But at least he’s making the effort, bless his heart. He’s about the one man in the world who knows nothing about sports. Just my luck. If Kali were here right now talking about pirouettes or pas de bourrées, he’d be paying rapt attention.

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