Page 38 of The Husband Game

Or, pretend to be happily married to one anyway.

The Otters had taken to Taylor well enough, but Charlie was about eight steps more in touch with his femme side than Taylor ever would be.

But so far, things were good.

Of course, Charlie had no idea who any of them were. He knew Matty, obviously, since he’d climbed into their bed this morning and showed off his ass.

Jordan Stokes and Jonah Brewer were easy to remember since they were the only two non-white players but the rest of them blurred together in a sea of white men.

Hot white men, Charlie would give them that—hell, the whole team was attractive—but he was definitely going to have to work on putting names to faces and who they belonged with.

Maybe Dustin would put together a list for him. Charlie could find the team roster online but he was going to be hopeless at keeping the wives and girlfriends straight without some help. And the children. There were so many of those running around too.

At least four or five of the cute little rugrats seemed to belong to the Russian goaltender. Charlie was pretty sure he was Russian, anyway. He could be from some other former Soviet bloc country, but Charlie’d had a Russian skating coach for a while and the accent sounded familiar.

His wife had a similar accent, and Charlie could pick her out of a crowd even when she wasn’t speaking because she was the only brunette in a sea of blondes.

For what it was worth, the blondes were all pretty and sweet. None of them had side-eyed Charlie’s outfit and their hugs and cheek kisses had been warm and sincere, their greetings friendly.

But, oh boy, was this surreal.

Two days ago Charlie had been a single man, on vacation with friends, and here he was now, living in Toronto and married with a husband.

A fake husband, but a husband, nonetheless.

What the actual fuck had he gotten himself into?

“Hey, Charlie,” Matty called out, waving a set of grilling tongs to get his attention. “I know everyone else’s burger order but not yours. What do you want?”

His stomach tightened. “What are my options?”

“Beef, done any degree of doneness from still mooing to well-cooked.” He shot a dirty look at a young guy wearing a hideous patterned shirt and clashing boy shorts. He had an impressive amount of freckles and a cute, upturned nose. He wasn’t a redhead though; his hair was a glossy brown. “I’m looking at you, Yaterater.”

Yaterater? That must be Colton Yates. Charlie had heard him mentioned earlier.

Colton, or whoever he was, shot Matty the finger, and Matty scowled, waggling his tongs again. “Hey now. Behave. This is a family event.”

Matty turned back to Charlie, his scowl becoming a sunny smile. “Oh, and we’ve got turkey burgers and vegan black bean burgers too. I’ll only do turkey burgers well done though because no one wants food poisoning.”

“Again,” someone called out and Charlie laughed.

“Turkey,” he said with a relieved sigh. Oh thank God. They had options. “No bun.”

Once his burger was ready, Charlie used food as an excuse to escape from Dustin’s cuddles.

He didn’t dislike them. He maybe liked them a little toooo much.

It had been so long since Charlie had been with anyone, much less someone who was touchy-feely. Especially in public.

He’d spent so many hours talking with a therapist about his feelings about relationships. About why he was so desperate for attention, about why he’d cling to any scrap of affection and turn it into something more than it was.

About why he was too quick with his heart and the way good sex made him make bad choices.

It was why he knew he needed to create some distance with Dustin or he’d never make it through the next year without making a fool of himself.

So Charlie spent the next hour or so flitting around the party chatting and eventually ended up in a gaggle of WAGs.

They all agreed they needed a new title now that Charlie was there.

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