Page 46 of The Pucking Fake Marriage

As though she’s reading my thoughts, my mom mutters, “What I wouldn’t give to have Kali here right now. He’s always so fun around Thanksgiving.”

I resist the urge to scoff. All I remember about our Thanksgiving as children is Kali hijacking the holiday to treat the family to a dance in front of the TV. Always pissed me the fuck off. He already got a lot of attention every damn day for “inheriting the gift,” as my dad called it. He didn’t need any more.

“You’re doing a great job on the ice though,” my dadinterjects. “I had some friends over last Sunday, and they were raving about you being the forward?—”

“Center.”I can’t believe that my father doesn’t know my position, even after all these years. Turning away from him, my mother has set three more places at the table. “Are we expecting guests?”

Before she can answer, there’s a knock on the door. My father flashes a grin at me before he stands up. “You’re going to enjoy this,” he says over his shoulder.

“You and Kali haven’t made it back home in years,” my mother says, glaring at me. “You don’t think we’ve been celebrating alone this whole time?”

Before I can respond, I hear the sound of my father opening the door. I turn around, and a brick wall forms in my chest.

Our next-door neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Chapman, are standing in the hallway.

With their daughter in tow.

I stand up, my heart racing wildly. Mrs. Chapman looks almost the same: prim and proper, foreboding, dressed in a stiff navy dress and pearls that greatly recall the Queen of England. A few more wrinkles on her face don’t hide the vibe of the coldest mother in town. She’s holding on rather tightly to a plastic food container. Mr. Chapman is his usual charming self, though I notice he’s a lot frailer than he was the last time I saw him.

My gaze sweeps over the couple for a second, before coming to rest on my wife.

I regret coming here a whole lot more than I did a few minutes ago when my mother was still hassling me about my hair. Charlie looks shell-shocked by this situation, and it couldn’t be more obvious that she wasn’t expecting to run into me here. Hell, I can tell by her dress. She’s squeezedherself into probably the most formal outfit she could find in her teenage closet, a plain navy dress with a square neck.

And when I say squeezed, I mean it literally. The garment manages to accommodate her new womanly curves, but only just. Her breasts are bursting out at the neckline, and the hem stops several inches above her knees. Her shiny black hair spills down her shoulders and back like a waterfall. She’s not wearing any makeup, but hell, she doesn’t need to. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

Damn. Fucking damn.

It’s near impossible to not stare at her. My knees are about to give way. I don’t know how the hell I’m not falling at her feet right now.

I’m now wondering if Charlie’s got on the same kind of underwear she had back in her kitchen.

Fuck everything I decided about holding back.

I’ve got to have her now. Anywhere will do. Inmy childhood bedroom, in the bathroom, in the backyard, as long as…

“Ken?”

I start. My father was saying something to me, and I completely missed it. Pulling my gaze from the enchantress, I look at him. “What?”

“Charlie,”he cries, holding his arm out toward her. “Aren’t you glad to see her, finally? It’s been, what, ten years?”

Ten years.Of course. Our families still think we haven’t seen each other in a long time. They are expecting a different reaction, probably one that’s more like shock or surprise than disengaged silence.

I force my facial features into a smile. “Yeah. Ten years. Good to see you, Charlie.” She looks like a deer caught inheadlights, a frantic expression dancing in her eyes. She’s silent. She doesn’t need to say anything before I realize what she wants me to do.

Crossing over to her, I pull her into a bear hug. Relieved laughter rings around the room from our fathers as she hugs me back. For a second, I wonder if I got the right message. But then she whispers, “Thanks,” as her arms wrap around my back.

Guess our ability to read each other’s minds wasn’t extinguished with our friendship. Or maybe being back in this house brings all that stuff back.

Charlie pulls away a second later, but not before the feel of her tits against my chest has started to stir my groin.

The next few hours are going to be hell.

My mother leads the way to the kitchen, already apologizing for the slightly overcooked turkey. Charlie’s mother nods primly—both women share similar perfectionism. She thrusts the plastic container toward my mother.

“Here. The yams. They are a little overdone.” She casts a very obvious glare at Charlie. “I had some help, and I couldn’t correct the damage.”

Charlie catches my gaze and rolls her eyes as her mother looks away. I grin back, strongly reminded of our teenage years. We spent a lot of time this way, being criticized by our parents and trading looks back and forth as Kali, the golden child, was showered with accolades. The strong sense of déjà vu that hits me now fills me with a different kind of longing. I kind of want to experience those moments again.

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