Chapter 20
TWENTY
Colton
Ihear Ethan before I see him—angry footsteps pounding down the hallway outside my apartment like he’s trying to punish the floor. Typical. People call me a grump, but Ethan’s like the king of grumpiness. That guy could give a bear in a traffic jam a run for its money.
Jenna and I lock eyes across my living room. She’s perched on the edge of my couch; fingers wrapped around a mug of coffee she hasn’t touched. The weight of what we’ve done hangs between us like a physical thing. And now Ethan’s about to make it heavier.
The pounding shifts from floor to door.
“King! Open this goddamn door!”
I move toward it, my body feeling strangely distant, like I’m piloting it from somewhere else. Twenty-four hours ago, I was just a father fighting for his daughter. Now I’m a husband to a woman who hated me not so long ago.
When I open the door, Ethan practically falls into my apartment.
His black tie is crooked, blond hair standing up like he’s been running his hands through it for hours.
He’s always put-together—the team’s unofficial problem solver, the one who makes scandals disappear before they hit the press.
Usually, it’s Riley turning him into this mess. Not me.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” He doesn’t wait for an invitation, pushing past me into the living room. His eyes land on Jenna, and he throws his hands up. “Both of you? Completely insane?”
“Good afternoon, Ethan.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel.
Ethan paces a tight circle, his expensive shoes making angry little squeaks on my heated marble floor.
He wears a suit as always. I don’t think he has anything else in his wardrobe to be honest. We always joke that he even sleeps in those things.
“Marriage? You got fucking married?” He stops, jabbing a finger at me.
“I told you to hire her, not put a ring on it.”
Jenna sets her untouched coffee down with a sharp click against the glass coffee table. “I’m sitting right here you know?”
“Yes, lawyer, unfortunately, I can see you.” Ethan runs both hands through his already disheveled hair. “What I can’t see is how someone who graduated top of her class thought this was smart legal strategy?”
I step between them. I just can’t stand anyone speaking to her like that. I guess I’ve got a soft spot for her. “Ethan. Enough.”
“No, no—let’s hear what the Iron Lady has to say for herself.” Ethan crosses his arms, staring at Jenna. “How exactly does lying help your client?”
Something flickers across Jenna’s face—embarrassment, maybe. It disappears so quickly I almost think I imagined it.
“I...” She straightens her shoulders, but her voice doesn’t have its usual courtroom sharpness. “I lost it for a moment.”
Ethan’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. Okay. You lost it. Sure.. You, who makes junior associates cry during depositions? You, who once made opposing counsel vomit before cross-examination, lost it?”
“It was food poisoning,” Jenna mutters.
“It was fear,” Ethan corrects. “Jesus Christ. The judge was going to give you custody anyway. We were almost there.”
She shakes her head. “Judge Brennan was sympathetic, yes. But he was hesitating. Goldblatt knew what he was doing, and I already saw Livy gone. And the idea hit me and I went for it…”
I clear my throat. Gone. My throat tightens at the memory—my daughter’s infected cut, her unwashed hair, the way she clung to me like I was the only solid thing in her world.
“I couldn’t send her back. Not again.”
“So instead, you commit marriage fraud? Both of you?” Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do you know how many laws this breaks?”
“Seventeen,” Jenna says flatly. “Depending on how you count the subsections.”
I look at her, surprised. She shrugs. Fucking shrugs.
“I had a lot of time to think about it until now,” she says, biting on her bottom lip.
“Okay. Okay. The shit is done anyway. I can’t undo it, and we can all agree you’re a bunch of idiots.
I must’ve been a terrible person in a past life, because dealing with all of you has to be my punishment for something…
” Ethan starts pacing again, but it’s different now—more purposeful.
This is the Ethan I know, the one who finds angles when everyone else sees walls. “Maybe... maybe we can work with this.”
Jenna sets her jaw. “There’s no ‘we’ here, Ethan. This is my legal mess to fix.”
“No, he’s right. It’s our mess,” I correct automatically. I don’t miss the sharp look she gives me.
“Actually, I’m not proud of it and I hate you both for it, but I know how to make this real.” Ethan stops pacing. “I know someone at legal registration who owes me a favor. Big favor.”
Jenna stands up. “If you’re suggesting document falsification—”
“Three days ago,” Ethan interrupts. “That’s when you got married. Not today in a panic after the emergency custody hearing. Three days ago, after a whirlwind but private romance that’s been going on for months. We pretend those nosy fans were right and that they caught your relationship early.”
“But that would mean I’d have cheated.”
“Well, we all have to make sacrifices, don’t we, darling,” Ethan says.
Jenna opens her mouth again, then closes it—like she’s just been outmatched.
I feel my stomach drop. “So, we’re all agreeing on falsifying records?”
“Correcting a clerical error,” Ethan says smoothly. “Happens all the time.”
Jenna’s legal mask slips completely, revealing raw panic. “That’s—we can’t just—”
“I can,” Ethan says. “But we have to do this right. You need to get legally married, right now. Today. It needs to be real on paper to work. My friend will change the date. That’s it. Just a number.”
“You’re talking about doubling down on fraud,” Jenna says.
“I’m talking about protecting your career and Colton’s custody case. You started this Jenna, don’t forget it.” Ethan moves closer to her. “Unless you’d prefer disbarment and criminal charges? Because that’s what happens when lawyers commit perjury I fear.”
She pales.
She looks like she might be sick. And it’s all my fault.
Ethan nods. “Good. That’s what I thought. So, here’s how this works. You two go get legally married this afternoon. My contact will marry you both and change the dates. But—” he raises a finger “—and this is crucial—you have to make this look real. Not just legal. Actually real.”
Jenna finds her voice. “What does that mean?”
“It means no contact about the arrangement. Nothing in writing. No texts, no e-mails, nothing discussing that this is anything but a genuine marriage.” Ethan’s tone shifts to dead serious. “No phone calls. No conversations about it, even in private. Assume you’re being recorded at all times.”
“That’s paranoid,” Jenna says.
“That’s your life now. Congratulations.” Ethan shrugs. “Mira’s lawyer will be looking for any evidence this is fraudulent. One slip—one text message, one e-mail—and it’s over.”
I move to the window, looking out at the Manhattan skyline. “Who do we tell?” I ask, turning back to the room.
“Only people who will lie for you without hesitation. Family, close friends—the essentials. And you need to coach them carefully.” Ethan ticks off the points on his fingers.
“You’ve been dating secretly for months.
You kept it quiet because of the custody case, not wanting to complicate things because she’s your lawyer.
You fell hard, fast. Decided to make it official three days ago in a private ceremony. ”
“No one will believe that,” Jenna says.
“They will if you sell it.” Ethan looks between us. “Which brings me to the next part. You need to live together. Immediately.”
Jenna’s head snaps up. “What?”
“You really didn’t think this through, did you?” Ethan snaps and rolls his eyes.
“That’s the point of panicking,” Jenna grumbles back.
Ethan pretends to understand and adds, “Whatever. Colton’s place makes the most sense.
Livy’s room is already set up here. I’ll arrange for your things to be moved tomorrow.
I’ll rent your apartment in the meantime to keep up appearances.
” Ethan is in full problem-solving mode now and he’s excellent as always.
I know the paycheck will be enormous—he always charges a lot, but I guess there’s nothing we can do about it and he knows it.
“I’ll handle the paper trail to make it look like you’ve been slowly moving in for weeks. ”
I watch Jenna’s face. We’ve spent exactly one night in the same space—the thought of sharing my space with her for months now, maybe longer...
“What about in public?” I ask, because it’s easier than thinking about Jenna moving her life into mine.
Ethan’s expression hardens. “You’re newlyweds. Act like it. Hold hands when you walk down the street. Kiss goodbye when you leave each other. Use pet names. Take pictures together and let people see them on your phones. The whole performance. Be gross.”
“You can’t be serious,” Jenna says.
“Dead serious. Do you know how many custody cases hinge on proving a marriage fraudulent?” Ethan doesn’t wait for an answer.
“This isn’t just about convincing a judge.
It’s about everyone—doormen, baristas, neighbors, teammates, opposing counsel.
One person who thinks something is off, mentions it to someone else, and it all falls apart. ”
I think about hockey, about the performances we put on—the tough guy act after taking a hard hit, the camaraderie with teammates you might personally despise. I can do this. But Jenna...
“There’s more,” Ethan continues. “Colton, you need to do that podcast interview with The Dirty Jersey. As soon as possible. Tell your love story. Make it believable. Jenna, I bet you managed to arrange that.”
I groan. I hate that podcast.
“Why would she arrange that?” I ask.
“She’ll explain later. The final condition: No divorce. Not for at least a year. Preferably longer.”
“A year?” Jenna’s voice rises.
“Minimum,” Ethan confirms. “Quick divorces scream arrangement. And if you think Mira’s lawyers won’t be watching for that, you’re kidding yourself.”
The magnitude of what we’re agreeing to settles over the room. A year of my life. A year of Jenna’s. Pretending every day, in every way.
But then I think of Livy sleeping down the hall.
The infection in her arm that could have been prevented if someone had simply cleaned the cut.
The way she flinched when I raised my voice—not at her, never at her, just in frustration at the situation.
The hollow look in her eyes when she told me her mommy’s friend said she was “in the way.” One year of pretending versus a lifetime of my daughter feeling unwanted.
“I’ll do it,” I say firmly.
Jenna and Ethan both look at me.
“Whatever it takes.” I meet Jenna’s eyes. “I’m in if you are.”
She holds my gaze for a long moment. I can almost see the calculations happening behind her green eyes—the risks, the consequences, the alternatives. Finally, she gives a single, sharp nod.
“One year,” she says, as if setting terms.
“One year,” I echo.
Ethan looks between us, then checks his watch. “City clerk’s office opens in forty-five minutes. I’ll call my contact on the way. You two...” he gestures vaguely, “try to look like you don’t hate each other.”
“We don’t hate each other,” I say automatically.
Jenna raises an eyebrow at me but doesn’t contradict it.
After, Ethan leaves to make his calls and then, we’re left alone. Shit this was a lot.
“You should change,” she says at some point, nodding at my rumpled clothes. “If we’re getting married, you should at least look presentable.”
I almost laugh. “Yes, wife.”
Her head snaps up, eyes flashing. “Don’t.”
“We need to practice,” I point out. “Ethan’s right. Has to be believable.”
Jenna runs a hand through her red hair, leaving it more disheveled than before. “This is insane. You realize that? Completely insane.”
“Desperate times.” I shrug.
“Your ex-wife is going to destroy me professionally when this falls apart,” Jenna says, but she’s already standing, already committed despite her words.
“If,” I correct. “If it falls apart.”
She gives me a look that says she thinks I’m naive. Maybe I am. But I’ve built a career on taking hits and staying on my feet. This is just another kind of fight.
Down the hall, I hear a small voice call out, “Daddy?”
Jenna and I jerk up, looking at each other. Then I call back, “Coming, Livy-bear.”
I head toward my daughter’s room, then pause, looking back at Jenna. “Ready or not, we’re family now.”
She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t have to. The look on her face says everything. Something that makes me think that maybe, just maybe, we can pull this off.
For Livy’s sake, we have to.