16. Oakley
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
oakley
What does it mean when you ask your friends not to tell a soul about your relationship, and yet, the next morning Corbin and I are plastered all over social media? Photos of him trying to help me up, my nose bleeding, and him carrying me off the kickball field.
Corbin Shearer, Notes hockey star, caught playing kickball with the woman who stole his car.
Can the golden boy of hockey change
her thieving ways?
My first thought is that Corbin will be furious if he’s not already. He hasn’t called me this morning, so I’m unsure of what we’re doing today. I should have called him and apologized to him, but just one time, I wanted to show him something I love. Then Martin had to throw a speedball right at my face. At least, Luna posted a photo of him watching me play Pacman, standing close and looking over my shoulder. You couldn’t see our faces, but she captioned it, “My favorite hockey player on a date.” And Corbin retweeted it, subtly, putting it out there that he’s off the market.
As I take a closer look at my bruised and swollen face, I have mixed emotions. Embarrassed over the way I look—the inside corners of my eyes are blue and purple, but it’s nothing makeup can’t cover. And I’m hurt that Marvin would take winning so seriously that he would throw the ball at my face. Confused that Sonny came to check on me after Corbin left.
When I let it slip that Corbin played for the Notes, it was an ah-ha moment for Sonny. It’s comical that Sonny wants me back. Sonny and I dated a couple of years ago and although his betrayal crushed me, I have very few people in my life that I can count on, and he’s one of them. Our friendship survived, and he has always been a shoulder to lean on when I was depressed and wondering how the world could be so cruel to take the only parents a child has.
I remember the first time Sonny and I had sex. It was awkward, fumbling, and only one of us had an orgasm. It wasn’t me. But it was also special and intimate, and at the time, I thought it would last forever.
He lost interest in me afterwards, and I caught him cheating. Now suddenly, when he “thinks” I have a hockey star boyfriend, he comes to the realization that he can’t live without me.
And to say it when my nose is bleeding—read the room, dude.
Despite moving on and dating other people, there’s a soft spot in my heart for Sonny. I suppose I’ll never forget my first love.
There’s a knock at my apartment door, and I yell, “Come in,” thinking it’s Sonny checking on me.
The door creaks open, and a woman says, “Hello? I need to speak with Oakley James.”
I remove the ice pack from my face and pinch my eyes. There’s a stranger in my house with a fairly thick Southern accent. Hopping off the bed, I thread my legs through some shorts and throw on a t-shirt before entering the living area.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Corbin's sister.
“You’re a gold digger, and I’m making sure you don’t get a dime of his money.”
I tap my foot on the linoleum floor, crossing my arms. How dare she accuse me of being a gold digger?
“I don’t need his money—that’s the point.”
She looks around my six hundred square foot apartment, barely bigger than the hotel room I was supposed to share with Corbin. She lifts a curious brow and says, “I beg to differ. Your monthly trust allocation is nowhere close to what Corbin makes in one day.”
When I scrunch my face, a jolt of pain ripples through me. “Ow. I didn’t realize it was going to hurt when I made certain facial expressions.”
“That’s another reason I’m here to pick you up.”
“Why?”
“Corbin is doing an extra practice with their new goalie and since you don’t have a car, he asked me to bring you to his house so we can go over the terms of your…” She clears her throat. “Agreement.”
Since we’re supposed to get married soon, I swallow my pride, slip on my sandals, let Dixie out to use the bathroom, and put her in the kennel before going with Becca.
As Becca drives us to Corbin’s house, thoughts of our upcoming marriage and the terms of our agreement fight over whether this is morally right. I’ve lived a lot of life in twenty-one years. I had to overcome more than most people my age, so even though my heart pounds with nervousness, I’m doing what I have to do—marrying a hot as hell hockey star with a savior complex.
When we arrive at his house, Corbin greets us at the door in the shorter style swim trunks. Water beads dot his skin and sit in the curves of his uncombed hair. My breath catches as I scan the length of him, and his lips furl up on one edge.
He asks, “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.”
“Sure, you are. But just in case, my doctor is in the living room,” he says with a cunning grin.
I snap, “I can take care of myself.”
He glances at his sister, and she wanders into the interior of his house. For a beat, he stares at me, then gently rubs his thumbs over my face. “I can’t. I have doctors, physical therapists, chiropractors, and trainers. And now that we’re in a relationship, it doesn’t matter that it’s fake or convenient, or that we’re both getting something other than love from it—I’m going to take care of you.”
I can’t suck in enough air to absorb his touching and caring words. He really is a good guy. What he doesn’t understand is I will not rely on him. I’ve been taking care of my mom since I was fifteen years old, practically raising myself and when she died… Well, it’s been lonely, and I never want to miss someone like I miss my mom. It hurts too bad.
When I don’t respond, he takes my hand and ushers me into the living room where a man in a white coat is talking to Corbin’s sister.
“Dr. Whitt, this is my girlfriend Oakley. I’ll leave you so you have some privacy.” Corbin exits the room, leaving me with the doctor. Dr. Whitt asks me how the accident happened. He seems to believe that it was a kickball accident. He uses the portable x-ray machine to peer at my bone structure, and luckily, my nose isn’t broken.
“Just keep icing it, alternate acetaminophen and ibuprofen as needed. And maybe not play kickball for a few weeks.”
“I understand.”
“You’re lucky to have a man like Corbin who cares about you,” he says as he pats my shoulder and walks out of the room. The doctor talks with Corbin but can’t make out what he’s saying, then I hear the front door snap shut.
Becca strolls into the den and sits on the couch with a portfolio full of papers. “Corbin, come on. I need to get back to work.”
With two drinks in hand, he sets one in front of me. “Peach smoothie for my lady. Get it? We met in the peach state.” And a deep laugh comes from his belly. “So, the doc said nothing is broken.”
“Nope, I told you I was fine.”
“Well excuse me for caring about my fiancée.”
“You haven’t proposed.”
Becca looks up at the ceiling with her eyes rolling back into her head. “I don’t know how you two are going to be married for any length of time without driving each other insane or me. Now let’s go over the terms of the agreement.”
She spreads the papers out on the coffee table.
“One, all assets will remain separate.
Two, you’ll live together in Corbin’s residence while maintaining separate bedrooms.
Three, you’ll attend all events, including parties, home and away games, and any other event Corbin deems necessary.”
“What? I can’t do that; I have to work.” My voice shakes.
Corbin says, “No, you don’t.”
Frustration boils within me, but I know I have to keep control. "I'm not some gold digger like your sister seems to think. I have my own dreams and goals. And I'll make myself successful without relying on you or your money."
Corbin's grin fades, and he becomes serious. "You forget, we have to make it look like love to your father. He'll be at most events and games. You can't be seen as too independent or disinterested. This will benefit both of us. Don’t be so stubborn."
“Don’t try to control me.”
“I’ll walk away. You need this way more than I do.”
Narrowing my eyes, I rise from the couch and step into his space. The tension builds as an invisible force, drawing me closer. “Oh, do I? Did you read the headlines on socials?”
“Okay, you two. Sign so I can get back to work. I’m losing five-hundred dollars an hour for this.” Becca remains composed and professional, only breaking her facade when Corbin is out of earshot, and she whispers, "He's doing this for you, you know—he could care less about the press and what people think.”
Taken aback by her words, my body warms on the inside. I’m grateful that he agreed to the legal but fake marriage, I can’t help but wonder why. There’s more to Corbin Shearer than what we see.
Corbin takes out his phone, scanning the feed until he lifts his thumb and reads. He presses his lips together and shakes his head. Then he mumbles, “Why can’t I catch a break? My whole career, I’ve kept my nose clean and since….”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, but I finish it for him. “Until you met me.” I let out a heavy sigh, and all three of us are silent.
Then Becca laughs. “No. This started before he met you. After five years, the media has decided they need to know why he’s never photographed with a woman.” She chuckles, then covers her mouth when Corbin gives her the Darth Vader death stare. “They’re beginning to think he’s gay.”
I refocus on Corbin and ask, “Are you?”
“No, I’ve been with… it doesn’t matter. I chose to concentrate fully on hockey and have a family when it’s over. Now I feel like I don’t have a choice. My endorsements need me to be an All-American guy—married, with a dog and a kid.”
“Whoa! Nobody said anything about a kid.” I say, shocked when I see the documents. “It’s not in the fine print that I have to have your baby, is it?” My hands shake as I shuffle through them while they watch.
“Sis, finish telling her what’s in them before she dies of a heart attack. No, no babies required.”
Becca states, “Like I said, you need to quit your job so if you won’t do that, there’s no sense in continuing.”
I give her a nod and a weak smile. “I’ll quit.”
“Corbin will carry your medical insurance costs. No one is to know this is a marriage of convenience except the three of us. Three months after legalizing the marriage, you’ll get control of your monthly trust allowance. At that time, you’ll start appearing to have problems in the marriage and will divorce shortly thereafter. Corbin will give you a credit card and the use of any of his cars except the Mustang. You must sign a non-disclosure agreement, which means you can never tell anyone, ever. You are not entitled to any assets of Corbin’s in the divorce, i.e. the prenup. Corbin has paid your rent for one year and prepaid your utilities for your apartment so that you can keep it and have somewhere to go once the divorce proceedings begin.
“Lastly, any notion of cheating on him in public or private for the duration of said agreement will result in an immediate dissolution of the marriage even if the three-month threshold has not been met. Which means no photos with other men or women that have the slightest suggestion of betrayal.”
“Do I get to say what's in the document?” I ask.
His voice is soft. “Yeah. What do you want to add?”
“I want you to add to the prenup that I keep Dixie in the divorce.”
Corbin opens his mouth like he’s going to speak but then closes his mouth and nods to his sister.
Becca says, “I’ll add that in. Corbin, I’ll have it sent back by courier later tonight. You’ll both have a copy. Corbin, yours will be kept on file at my office. Where do you want yours kept?”
“I have a safe in my bedroom; she can put her copy in there,” Corbin offers, shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts.
His sister sighs and says, “I don’t know what we’re going to tell Mom and Dad. We’ve never lied to them.”
As his sister expresses concern over what to tell their parents, I can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. But he’s a grown man, and he made the decision to go into this arrangement. He has the upper hand, having a bulldog attorney for a sister. The agreement is full of legal-eze, and I don’t have the money or resources to make sure it’s as good for me as it is for him.
“Let me handle Mom, Dad, and Mamaw. Thanks, sis. Love ya.”
After walking her out, he returns to the living room, silent. Corbin rubs his forehead with his fingers, then stares at a line of photos on a mahogany-stained sofa table.
“You’re close, huh?”
“Close doesn’t describe it,” he replies with a lazy smile.
“Is she always so alpha?” I ask with a hint of admiration lacing my tone. I like a woman who goes after what she wants and if she’s honest with herself, I think she has an ounce or two of respect for me making this happen.
Corbin nods, proud of his sister's strong personality. "She can be, but she's also incredibly caring and always there for those she loves. But she’s a determined go-getter.”
Under my breath, I mutter, “Must run in the family.” If he hears me, he doesn’t acknowledge it.