Page 50 of Put a Rink on It

“Same,” I begin. “Once the seed was planted, the words flowed out without me overthinking them, almost as if they were true. I despise that they’re lies.” I don’t mean to verbalize the last comment, but the guilt weighs heavily on me, more than I realized.

“Yeah, it sucks, and I’m sorry. Again, for all of it. It’s all my fault.” Shame underlies every comment.

“I’m not disagreeing,” I say with a small smile. I appreciate how he’s shouldering the blame, but I accept my role in it. I could have said no at the beginning. If I were adamantly against the part I’m playing, I could have turned him down. He would have understood and gotten over it. “We should come up with more plans, though. If we’re going to continue long-distance. When we’re going to let the rest of the world know. How to tell your family.”

“I’ll need food for any conversation. What was your plan before the day blew up?”

“Always about the food with you,” I jest.

His brows furrow. “In my haste to get here, I skipped lunch. I’m extra hungry.”

“Thank you for coming. Having you here helped soften the blow. I admire how you’re not letting me take the fall for any of this, how you own your mistakes and the consequences. It’s commendable.” I don’t want to inflate his ego more than it already is, but he deserves my gratitude. If there’s one thing our friendship has always been, it’s honest.

Nero places a hand over his heart, his expression softening. “Aww, Ships. No wonder I can’t keep myself away from you when you say such nice things about me. But seriously, woman. Stop avoiding the food plan. I’m starving.”

“My plan was olive pizza. Should I put that order in now?” I fold my lips so the chuckle wanting to escape can’t.

“Yep.” I’m momentarily confused by his answer because I was expecting him to protest. “I’ll have a large veggie. I’ll get you my card.” He slips his wallet from his pocket. “I should get one for you with your name on it. I’ll do it tomorrow.” He stands up and saunters to where I’m sitting, thrusting the black card into my hand. “Be right back.”

He heads down the hall toward the bathroom, leaving me more stunned than his agreeing to pizza.

A credit card with my name on it isn’t what’s shocking. I’ve got plenty of those.

It’s the fact it’ll be on a Centurion card.

When I think I’ve wrapped my head around what all this means, the tiniest thing derails me.

CHAPTER 16

nero

If I didn’t excuse myself from Marina’s proximity, I wasn’t sure I could keep my hands—or other body parts—to myself.

I came here to help her tell her sister and mother about our engagement, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to kiss her. Sure, I could say it was for Juliet’s sake because she was certainly watching our interaction like a hawk, but I’d be lying. As soon as Marina jumped from the car, worry etched on her face, I had to do something about it.

And a hug wouldn’t cut it.

I can’t say what’s come over me. I’ve never felt feelings so strong for her, not even during our short besties with benefits phase in college. It’s as if I didn’t connect our lips, I would short-circuit.

Now, we’re alone for dinner, and I have to be on my best behavior. I can’t use the pretense of her family watching for any kind of touching that we wouldn’t have done before this crazy ruse I put us in.

I exit the bathroom and return to the living room. She’s scrolling on her phone, a wide smile on her face. She’s beautiful. I’ve never not thought that, but lately, her beauty shines through more, weakening my defenses.

Man, I’ve got to pull myself together. Unless we’re in public or with others, there’s no reason for any kind of romantic anything.

An alert from my phone saves me from making a fool of myself. It’s a reminder about my cooking lesson tonight. “Oh, shit. I was supposed to meet with Mrs. Robles for a cooking lesson. I need to call her.”

When the call connects, I apologize profusely for the last-minute change, explaining I had to go out of town and will set up a new time once I’m home. Thankfully, she understands, but I’ll still compensate her for her time.

“Pizza will be here in about thirty minutes. Lucky for me, your card’s still registered in Minnesota because when he asked for the zip code, I pulled it out of my ass. Had it been the new one in Connecticut, I might have looked like a fool.” She hands the card to me, and as if I needed another reminder of how this woman affects me, a jolt of electricity surges through me at the slight touch.

“Uh, thanks for the reminder. I’ll make the change when I call to add you to the card.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m not in this for your money. I’ll pay my way.”

I lounge onto the same couch as before, the one across from where she sits. “I won’t make you take my money, but you’re getting the card. Use it when you see fit.”

“Nero.”