Chapter 26
twenty-six
. . .
Riley
The Grizzlies rented out a fancy steakhouse in the Seaport District for the team’s Thanksgiving dinner. It’s two days before the actual day, but the next game is tomorrow night, so it makes sense to do this now.
When I agreed to marry Al, I didn’t know I was signing up for a whole social life revolving around the team. With Vanessa and Audrey dropping by twice a week, plus Bex constantly blowing up my phone, I’m finally finding the social network I thought I’d never have.
This is a baby-free event, so Al corralled Cari into staying with Emmy, and I didn’t even cry when it was time to leave.
Partly because I didn’t want to ruin my makeup.
I’m wearing a simple burgundy velvet dress.
It’s got a high neckline, a cinched waist, and a flirty hem, and even though I’ve added black tights for modesty (and weather), I’ve caught Al looking at my legs more than once.
It’s hard not to preen at the heat in his eyes. But unless I want to sacrifice my kid’s happiness, I have to tamp down the urge to show off for him. Even if I want to.
As we make small talk with his teammates and their partners, his hand splays along the small of my back. The searing heat of his palm against my dress is like a brand, burning me for all eternity. I’m his, and he’s mine, and we belong together.
At least for a year. Maybe two.
I can hold out. No matter how much I want to rip that suit off his thick body and nuzzle my face against his hairy chest like a cat, I must resist. I will resist. I am stronger than my libido.
Jenkins and Mitchell make their way over to us, giving me polite, perfunctory hugs before tapping knuckles with Al.
“Riley, you look gorgeous,” Jenkins says with a smirk. His dazzling green eyes are bright, teasing, as he squeezes my forearm. “You could do so much better than a Muppet like Gonzo.”
Al frowns, shoving his teammate. “Knock it off.”
“Yeah, it’s not his fault he looks like that,” Mitchell adds with a grin.
“Fuck off,” he mutters, scowling.
I pat his chest, appreciating his rock-hard muscles through his suit. “I like the way you look.” Although I try to keep my tone light and even, it comes out breathy, and my face flames. “I mean…”
“Sounds like someone’s got a crush,” Jenkins sing-songs.
“Leave my wife alone,” Al growls. “It’s not like that with us, you know that.”
We aren’t a real couple. He doesn’t actually like me, just the idea of me. But for some reason, his shutting down his friends makes my chest ache.
I do like him. If I wasn’t in such a precarious situation, I’d throw caution to the wind and make a move already. But if the alternative is losing my daughter, the last remaining link to my sister… No. I can’t risk it.
“I need a drink.” Pulling away from Al, I start off toward the open bar. Footsteps fall into place beside me, and I glance over to find Mitchell accompanying me. “I don’t need a babysitter,” I mutter, and he chuckles.
“Hey, I’m only going where you’re going,” he says, raising his hands in innocence.
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
Reaching the bar, I make eye contact with the bartender. “Rum and Coke, please.”
She nods, reaching for a glass and the jigger, raising her brows at Mitchell expectantly.
“Whatever IPA you have in a bottle, thanks.”
“We’ve only got cans,” she says.
He frowns. “Okay, then I’ll take tequila and tonic.”
“Going for the hard stuff?” I tease.
“I don’t like the taste of cans. It always tastes metallic,” he says with a shrug.
“Makes sense.”
When the bartender places our drinks on the counter, he picks up his glass and peers at me. As soon as I lift mine, he taps his drink against it.
“Cheers,” Mitchell mutters, before gulping down a solid third of his drink in one go.
“Tonight is going to get messy, isn’t it?”
A mirthless laugh rumbles from his throat. “Counting on it.”
His hand settles on my back, but unlike with Al, his touch doesn’t make me feel centered. It’s performative at best. Polite. He guides me across the party to my husband, who’s scowling as we approach. A line creases his forehead, making his brown eyes glitter darker.
“You two look cozy,” Al snaps.
“Relax, Gonzo,” Mitchell drawls. “I’m not about to make a move on your girl. I’m dumb, not suicidal.”
He turns his glare on me. “You can’t sleep with him.”
Mitchell sucks in a breath, Jenkins lets out a shocked laugh, and I want to shrivel up and die with their attention on me. But more importantly…
Irritation flares through me, and my eyes narrow into slits. “Excuse me?”
Dimly, I’m aware of Mitchell dragging Jenkins away. All I can focus on is my stupid fucking husband and his stupid fucking accusations. How can he say he wants to date me and still think so little of me?
“I know you don’t want to be with me, but you can’t hook up with my teammates. That’s, like—”
“Okay, hold the fuck up,” I snap. Glancing around, I’m reassured nobody is paying attention to us, but that can change in an instant. I grab him by the wrist and drag him into the hallway between the event space and the main dining room.
Al glowers at me. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not sleeping with your teammates. I have no interest in any of those idiots.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I glare up at him. “Do you really think I’m interested in him? In anyone else?”
Does he think I’m some kind of whore, offering myself to the closest man around? Doesn’t he see he’s the only man I want to climb like a tree?
Sullen, he bites the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, but you’re not interested in me either.”
His attitude is definitely not attractive, but I can’t deny the hurt in his voice makes my heart beat faster. Maybe I’m more than a convenient option. Maybe there’s more to this than I thought.
“Is that what you think?” My bitter laugh echoes in the hallway. “I said I needed time to think. I didn’t say no.”
He opens his mouth, but I continue before he can get a word in edgewise.
“There’s too much at stake for me. I can’t do this. There can’t be an us.” I waggle a finger between us. “That day, it wasn’t a no. I needed to think it over. But I am saying no now.”
His face falls. “Got it. I hear you, loud and clear.”
He might hear the words, but he’s not listening. Whatever I’m saying, it’s not connecting for him.
“I can’t jeopardize Emmy’s safety for—”
Al rears back. “What are you talking about?”
“When we get divorced, she’ll be all yours. I won’t have any legal claim to her.”
“But you’re her mom.” He stares at me, his head cocked.
“Not biologically. Not legally.”
“I told you, I’d never take her away from you.”
“It’s easy to say that now, before your shark of a lawyer gets involved. I can’t afford—”
“We have a prenup. Everything is outlined there, you can afford whatever you want.”
I glanced over the documents, but I didn’t pay that much attention. I don’t want his money. All I want is my girl, and he can’t promise custody of her, not with the courts involved.
“But Emmy—”
“She will always be your kid,” he vows. “She’s yours just as much as she is mine.
And no matter what happens with my career, when I retire and don’t have to travel every week, I’m still going to need you—need help.
Single parents do it on their own every day, but I’ve never wanted to be a single parent. I want you by my side.”
“We can’t always get what we want.”
He rears back again as if I’ve slapped him. “Wow. Okay, then.”
“I’m just saying—”
“No. I hear you. You don’t want this.” Don’t want me, I hear the unspoken words.
“It’s not that,” I say, awkwardness settling over me like a cloud of discomfort. “What if we start something, and it fizzles out, and then everything is weird?”
“Then we handle it like adults,” Al says. “It’s not that complicated.”
“Except we’re married.”
“So take that out of the equation. It’s a legal relationship, not a romantic one. We can simply date and pretend we’re not married.”
“But—”
He shakes his head. “Either you want to be with me, or you don’t,” he says flatly. “It’s that simple.”
“It’s not. You’re loaded. You can do anything you want. I’m an unemployed, homeless makeup artist with no family. You have—”
“What are you talking about?” He stares at me, mouth agape. “You’re not unemployed, you take care of our kid, which is a full-time fucking job and then some. You aren’t homeless, you have a house. And we’re married, that makes us a family.”
It’s my turn to take a step back. “F-fam—”
“Riley, you’re part of my family now.” His voice softens, and when he reaches for me, I allow him to take my hands in his.
“For better or for worse. I meant that. Whatever happens between us, I’ll stand by you.
Do you think I’d really allow you to be homeless?
Do you think I’d let the mother of my child struggle? ”
I open my mouth to argue, but he continues before I can say anything.
“No matter what happens between us, you will always be taken care of. I can’t promise you won’t want a job later on, but while Emmy is home every day, when I’m traveling with the team, your job is to take care of our girl.
If you wanted to pick up another gig, we could get a nanny.
I want you to feel supported, whether you work outside of the house or not. ”
My lip trembles. “I don’t want a nanny. I want to stay home with her.”
“Okay. We won’t get a nanny,” he agrees immediately.
“And even when we get divorced, I want to be in her life. I need to be her guardian in your will so if something happens to you, we don’t lose her. Not again.”
His eyes soften. “Do you want a postnup?”
“What’s that?”
“We’ll go to the lawyer and revise the prenuptial agreement. Since we’re married already, it’s called a postnuptial agreement. We would outline exactly what happens so the divorce is open and shut. Fifty-fifty custody, child support and alimony—”
“I don’t need that,” I interrupt.
“But I’m offering it,” he argues. “We’ve got eighteen years ahead of us, plus a lifetime of her adulthood. My girl is used to a certain level of comfort. If you’re certain you want out, we’ll outline it so everything is fair.”
“We did that already.” I remember signing paperwork, but I didn’t pay attention to the financial details. I never actually intended to take his money. I figured I’d walk away and that would be that. It will kill me to lose access to Emmy, but I can’t in good conscience keep her from him.
“We can still revise it. The last thing I want is for you to feel cheated, like you’ve given up something to be with me. I’ve already updated my will so everything goes to you—”
“You did what?” I stare at him.
“You’re my wife. You’re entitled to it. Most of it is in a trust for Emmy, but if something happens to me, you’ll have plenty.”
“I—I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to make any decisions right away.
But Riley…” His eyes meet mine, the weight of his gaze heavy with meaning.
“If you’re scared of starting something with me because of Emmy, you don’t need to be.
I swear, I will never take our kid away from you, and I’ll sign anything you need me to in order to make that happen. ”
“I’m scared.” The words fall off my lips as a whisper.
“You don’t have to be.” Al reaches for me. “We can work this out. Take it slow.”
“I like slow.”
With the last hurdles out of the way, I finally feel like I can do this. We can do this. I squeeze his hand, lacing my fingers through his. The scratch of his calloused palm against mine feels so fucking good. How can simply holding hands feel so monumentally right?
He ducks his head, his warm breath fanning over my lips. I arch my neck, reaching for him, and—
“There you are!” Jenkins calls.
“Fuck,” Al mutters, the word puffing over me.
“Come on, we’re about to sit down for dinner.” Jenkins disappears down the hallway, holding the door open for us expectantly, as if he’s afraid we’ll bolt if he doesn’t escort us.
Not going to lie, the idea of running away doesn’t sound half bad.
My husband pulls back, clearing his throat.
“Let’s go eat some turkey with my teammates,” he says, squeezing my hand. “Make the most of this.”
Somehow, I don’t think he’s only talking about dinner.