Page 20 of Put a Rink on It

If we go through with this charade, she’ll never get a grand engagement. She’ll never get her dream wedding. Hell, she’ll be lucky if she’s even happy with the situation I’ve proposed.

I can’t be the one who asks her to change her life. Not in this way. Not for some stupid—somewhat—drunken comment. She’d be giving up everything for me. And in exchange for what? What do I offer her?

“I can’t let you do this. I can’t let you give up your life for one that’s not real, one where I’m gone half of the season, one where you’ll be alone so much of the time. I can’t do that to you, Ships. I’m sorry I thought this could work. I’m so sorry.” The honesty pours out of me, the consequences of my actions so much bigger than I’m willing to admit.

Marina opens her mouth, but the waitress returns with two steaming mugs in her hands. She sets them down on the table, and I offer a polite “Thank you,” hopefully dismissing her. Thankfully, she takes the hint.

When I glance back at Marina, her eyes have dried, but she looks sad. No, rejected. Despondent. Like she realizes what she’ll be giving up, what she’ll be losing out on if she agrees to this.

I grab her hands in mine, and she gives them willingly. “I can’t ask you to do this. It’s not fair for you to give up your entire life for a half-hearted marriage. To have to lie to your family and everyone else because I was stupid.”

“You were stupid,” she quips with a small grin, yet it somehow illuminates her beauty.

The man Marina Keeley gives her heart to is going to be the luckiest bastard in the world. Except he won’t be a bastard. She’s too good for a guy like that. No, he’s going to be kind, respectful, and give in to her every desire and whim. Without question. She’s going to have him wrapped around her finger, and he won’t be the wiser until he’s too far under her spell to do anything about it.

Ask me how I know.

“What if it could work, with a few tweaks?” she starts, her eyes lighting with unshed emotion. “What if you meant to say ‘future wife’ but you were so enamored, the ‘future’ was left off?”

“I don’t follow.”

She entwines our fingers together. “What if we’re not married yet but engaged? It’s simple enough to claim you misspoke. It would be a less complicated sell to everyone. My mom might still question why I never told her we were so close to this point, but it’ll be easier for her to swallow the lie than admitting we got married without her knowledge. It’s not like I never said we weren’t together. It’s direct enough to spin that we hid it from everyone. With the distance, your career, all of it. We’d still be in charge of the narrative, write it how we want so it fits our story, your brand, but…” She trails off, her head tilting to the side as her gaze never leaves mine. “What? Is that stupid? It’s stupid, right? They’re still not going to believe us? Is that what your face is saying?”

“I think it’s brilliant. I think you’re brilliant, Marina. It puts more of the onus on me for making the mistake while still giving you ownership over the story. It gives us time to work out the details. You won’t have to uproot your entire life yet. It’s genius.”

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Totally.”

“You still have to cover with your team about the slip of wife versus fiancée.”

“That’s probably the straightforward part. They don’t know me well enough to know when I’m lying or not. And it’s a slip of the tongue. Wife, fiancée, future wife. Close enough. For them. In the sense of you and me, a world of difference. Do you think you can convince your mom we were dating in secret?” I let her hands drop from mine and shake my head. “You’d have to be okay with lying to her. It’s smaller than if we were married, but it’s still deceit.”

She shrugs. “I did it to protect myself. To shield myself from the scrutiny I’d be under with your professional athlete status.”

I’m stunned into silence at how authentic it sounds. If I didn’t know she was lying, I’d buy it. She’s that convincing.

“Is this you saying you’re on board? You’re okay with the story we came up with?”

She doesn’t answer right away, and her eyes shift to whatever’s behind me. For several minutes, she doesn’t say a word, her demeanor doesn’t crack.

A heavy pit forms in my stomach. This all hinges on her agreeing to this crazy plan. Even though she already said yes to the marriage, she needs to consent to this version.

I’m so busy in my head, I nearly miss the parting of her lips, the smile claiming her mouth. “I’m in, Nero. One hundred percent. For wherever this goes, wherever this leads. I’m in.” A new energy wafts off her, an awakening taking place.

“Thank you. Every day is still going to be your yes day. We’re going to make this work.”

One shoulder rises, but her smile doesn’t dip. “We’re surely going to try.” She reaches for her mug, grabbing mine at the last second. Taking a sip, her eyes close while she swallows. “Heaven in a cup. This one’s mine.”

“Are those fighting words, Marina Keeley? You stealing my latte?” I jest.

Her eyes open, narrowed at me. “Going out on a limb, but I’m gonna say everything that’s yours is now mine.”

When I think she can’t surprise me anymore, she proves me wrong.

Our waitress is back with our meals. She sets mine in front of me first before serving Marina. She also leaves the coffee cake. “Can I get you anything else?”

“We’ll need an extra plate, please,” I request.