Chapter 16
TRAVIS
“I’ve got this.” I set my hand over the check as soon as the server drops it off at the table. “What’s yours is mine, right?”
Hannah groans. “I’m glad one of us can joke about this.”
I’m not really joking but it’s fine if she wants to think that.
“Okay.” She places both elbows on the table and leans forward. “Let’s talk about how this is going to work.”
“First week of marriage and she’s already laying down the law.” My cheeks hurt from smiling. I can’t help it. We’re doing this. Really doing this. Or pretend doing this. I’m not sure how she’s spinning it in her mind, but I get to spend more time with her, and I’m thrilled.
She shoots me a playful glare.
I lean forward too. “What’s there to decide?”
“What are we going to tell people, for starters?”
“That we’re in love and got married in Vegas.” I shrug one shoulder. Simple. Done.
“I don’t think people are going to buy that. We’ve never been seen together. I’ve never talked about you.”
“Never?”
She gives me another stern look.
I chuckle. “We don’t need to explain ourselves.”
“That’s such a guy answer.”
“I am a guy.”
With an eye roll, she shakes her head. “Fine. What about some basic details in case someone asks, and I can’t ignore them. How did we meet? How long have we been together? Why Vegas?”
“We met when you moved in next door, and it was love at first sight. And Vegas because we were there celebrating and decided we didn’t want to wait one more day to start our life together.”
She considers my answer then nods. “Not bad.”
“We should stick to as much truth as possible. It’s easier to remember.”
I got that advice from my very first manager. I was trying to figure out how to answer potential questions about my family and why I don’t have contact with them, but I think the guidance still fits here.
“How long do you think we need to do this?” she asks.
This being stay married.
“You tell me.”
She thinks for a second, then says, “The Winter Classic is in February. If I can stay out of a PR media storm until then, then I can prove myself there and hopefully my personal life won’t matter.”
I nod my agreement. “February it is. Anything else?”
“Probably, but I need to get to the gym.”
“Practice today?”
“Sort of,” she says like she isn’t going to expand, but after I continue to stare at her, she adds, “I have to meet with a visualization coach and then I usually do a long run or swim on Saturdays. Sunday is my off day. What about you?”
“We had practice this morning and a game tomorrow so I’m taking it easy. Do you want to hang out later?”
She seems surprised by the offer.
“You can ask me the rest of your questions.”
“Sure. I’ll come by when I’m done.”
After I’ve paid and she’s gotten a box for her leftovers, we head out of the restaurant. My Range Rover is parked next to her Jeep. We stop at the back between the two.
“Today took a weird turn,” she says, smiling. “Well, even weirder than I thought possible.”
I huff, nodding my agreement.
“Thank you.”
“Me?” I feel like the last person she should be thanking.
“You didn’t have to agree to this, but I appreciate it. This…arrangement is benefiting me a lot more than you.” She glances down at the ground and bites the corner of her lip.
She’s wrong. So very wrong.
“Favorite food?” I ask Hannah, later that night. She’s curled up on the other end of my couch, facing me. Her hands wrap around my favorite blue mug.
“Pizza. No, tacos. Or maybe french fries. I can’t decide.”
“Got it. My wife is indecisive.”
“That’s never not going to be weird,” she says with a grimace. “What about you?”
“Barbecue ribs.” My stomach rumbles. “Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.”
We move to the kitchen. She leans back against the counter while I stare into the fridge and give her the options. It’s mostly prepacked food I order from a service. It’s easier that way, making sure I’m fueled for practice and games and not needing to cook.
“Do you have any bread?” she asks.
“Yeah. I think so.” I open the freezer drawer.
“You keep it in the freezer?”
I shrug.
She laughs it off but motions for me to hand it to her. Then she grabs the peanut butter and jelly.
“Really?” I ask when I realize what she’s creating.
She smiles shyly. I grab two plates, and she makes us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which we eat standing up in the kitchen.
“Would have been better if the bread wasn’t so hard,” I say as I chew the first bite. It’s unthawed slightly but it’s still a little crunchy.
“And cold.” She holds a hand in front of her mouth as she speaks. “The jelly is really good though. What flavor is it?”
“Huckleberry.”
“I should have known,” she says, then adds, “That muffin was delicious by the way. I don’t think I ever thanked you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We eat the rest of our sandwiches in silence. I put our dishes in the dishwasher, marveling at how homey tonight has felt. I could get used to this.
“Tell me more about your sister,” I say as I lead her back into the living room. This time when we take our spots on the couch, I sit a little closer. Could we still give this a shot? We’re staying married, for now, so what’s the harm in trying?
Hannah’s face lights up at the mention of Wren. I’ve already surmised they're close by the way she smiles every time she talks about her. “She’s a freshman in college, studying English Lit for now, but she talks about switching majors weekly.”
“What else?” I’m eager for every little scrap of information on Hannah and her life.
“Everyone says we look alike but I don’t see it. She has these big, blue eyes instead of boring brown like mine.”
“I love your eyes,” I tell her honestly.
She continues like I didn’t compliment her, but she flushes slightly. “She also has these amazing freckles that she hates and always tries to hide with makeup. And she is obsessed with true crime and reality TV.”
“We share that obsession.”
“True crime?”
“Reality TV.”
“Seriously?” Hannah asks, amusement dancing in those stunning light brown eyes.
“Oh yeah. I’m obsessed with all the dating ones.”
“Those are so fake.”
“No way. Some of those couples end up married.”
“Like one in a thousand.”
“I’ll take those odds. It’s better than swiping on some app.”
“Well, we agree there.” Her brows tug together in the center. “Speaking of dating…”
My pulse picks up speed. This is it. The moment to get this awkward, slightly unconventional situation back on track.
“We probably shouldn’t see other people while we’re fake married.”
“Real married,” I remind her. I have the certificate to prove it.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do and I agree.”
“Why do I sense there’s a but?” Her gaze narrows slightly.
I don’t quite know how to say it. Luckily, she reads it on my face. Her lashes flutter and her mouth gapes momentarily. “Oh, no.”
“Why not?”
“It’s too complicated. And I’m just now starting to like you.” She grins.
“And you think dating me is going to ruin that?” I ask with a chuckle. “Ouch, Walsh.”
I consider calling her Walsh-Bennett but I sense it’ll only make her eye twitch.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Won’t it be more obvious if we aren’t seen together doing normal couple stuff?” And also, won’t it suck more for me?
She thinks for a moment. “Fine. You’re not wrong.”
I grin.
“But it’s even more of a reason that we shouldn’t date.”
“I don’t follow.”
Her tongue darts out and wets her lips. “If we’re going to spend time together pretending to be married—"
“Not pretending. We are married.”
She rolls her eyes, then continues, “We need to be able to hang out without any drama.”
I hate it when she pokes holes in my plan. “There won’t be any drama.”
Laughter tumbles out of her. “Because so far our relationship has been so drama-free.”
“What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?”
Her smile widens.
“I’m not asking you out again.” Not in this exact moment. “I have a game. You could come, and after I can introduce you to some more of my teammates.”
“I promised Kinsley I’d go see a movie with her and Skylar at one. When’s the game?”
“That’s perfect. It starts at five.” The idea of looking up and seeing her in the crowd makes adrenaline pump through my veins. “I’ll get a few tickets for you. That way you can bring your friends if you’d like.”
She nods once, a little noncommittally.
I can’t remember the last time I looked forward to a game so much. The playoffs? My first pro game?
“This is going to be great,” I tell her, and I hope I’m right.
Sunday before the game, I scan the crowd looking for Hannah. There’s only three minutes left of warmups, and she still hasn’t shown.
“You good?” Nick asks, stopping beside me.
I pull my gaze from the empty seats I reserved and deepen my stretch. “Yeah.”
“What’s the problem?” He leans on his stick and waits for me to answer.
“Didn’t I just say I was good.”
“You did but I don’t believe you.” Nick chuckles when I meet his smug smile.
“I invited Hannah, but she didn’t show.”
I thought we had a nice time last night. Sure, we mostly talked about training and surface-level stuff, but it was a start.
“Maybe something came up or she’s running late.”
“No. She isn’t coming. I can feel it.”
“Look, the situation is…unexpected. She probably just needs a beat to wrap her head around it.”
I nod.
He rests a gloved hand on my shoulder. “Who would have thought you’d get married before me?”
“Everyone,” I tell him honestly. Up until he met Ruby, he was closed off and uninterested in dating. I might not have a good track record with serious relationships, but at least I’ve dated.
“Let’s grab a beer after the game. I missed the bachelor party.” He grins even wider. Fucker.
“Another night.”
“The wife is already controlling your schedule.”
I know he’s joking but I still glare at him.
“Like you’re one to talk. Where’s Ruby anyway?”
“She’s in New York for a book signing.”
“Now I know why you want to hang out. You’re lonely without her.”
“So fucking lonely,” he admits.
“Fine. One drink. And you’re buying.”
The buzzer sounds, signaling the end of warmups.
“You’re on,” Nick says and then skates off to the bench.
As I follow him, I glance back up at the stands. It shouldn’t be so disappointing that she isn’t here. I’ve played my whole career without anyone cheering me on.
But I can’t help but feel like it’s just one more person telling me I’m not important or good enough to be in their life in any real, meaningful way.