29. Piper
TWENTY-NINE
PIPER
I’m so glad to be home.
The plane ride back from Vegas was miserable.
When Lexi and Maven asked what wrong, I put on my headphones, said I didn’t feel well, and pretended to take a nap.
I lied to my friends, all while my wedding ring sat tucked under my shirt, looped around my necklace chain.
I don’t know why I kept it. I’m not delusional enough to think there was any emotion behind the drunken decision to get hitched. It was all alcohol, no heart, and it’s not the start of some epic love story.
It might’ve been a mistake, but I’m considering his offer to stay married.
Liam made good points about his insurance. When I asked Emmy about the coverage she has, she let me know the NHL is generous with the things included in their plans.
I could see all the specialists I needed to.
I could get a prescription for medicine that manages the pain in my head.
I could splurge on services I never let myself indulge in because of how expensive they are.
There are far worse people to be married to than Liam Sullivan, even after his outburst the other morning.
I’ve spent all afternoon on the couch writing out the pros and cons. The list is long, and after hours of debating back and forth, I’ve come to realize it would be silly to not take advantage of the situation we’ve found ourselves in.
A knock on my front door pulls me from my internal debate. I frown and check the time.
It’s too late for the girls to be stopping by. Maven fell asleep hours ago. Emmy is in Calgary for an away game and Lexi is grabbing a drink with some minor league baseball player.
There’s a half second of fear Steven might be on the other side, and relief is a swift current when I check the peephole and find Liam standing there, his hands behind his back.
We didn’t talk on the flight to the East Coast. When we landed in DC, I caught an Uber home before he could bring up what happened a few nights ago.
I’m still so mad at him.
I’m mad at what he said.
I’m mad at his reaction.
I’m mad because I couldn’t hate him if I tried.
Heaving a deep breath, I open the door and stare at my husband.
“Hey.” He lifts his chin and rakes his eyes over me. They linger on the shorts I slipped on after my twenty-minute shower, and a muscle in his jaw works. “Can I come in?”
“Are you going to blame me for forcing you into a marriage again?”
Liam blows out a heavy sigh and shakes his head. “No.”
My fingers wrap around the door frame, and it’s my turn to look at him.
His shoulders are hunched and his shirt is wrinkled. I’m pretty sure his coat is on inside out, and his beanie is halfway off his head.
He looks like shit, and my heart almost breaks in two.
“You can come in.”
He nods and walks into my foyer, taking up too much space. When I close the door behind him, he hands me a bouquet. “I brought you tulips. Wasn’t sure how you felt about roses, so I went with something a little more neutral.”
“Roses are on the bottom of my list. Peonies are my favorites. But I do like tulips. What are these for?”
“An apology.”
My breath tangles in my chest. “No one’s ever bought me flowers before.”
“I’m sorry the first time you’re getting them is under these circumstances. I took my shit out on you. How I reacted in your room in Vegas was uncalled for.”
“It was uncalled for.”
“I’m not going to lie: finding out we got married really pissed me off. You know what my priorities are. You know where I put my attention and what my focus is.”
“You’ve made it very clear the only relationship you’re interested in having, Liam, is with hockey. Did you make me feel like the thought of being married to me was your worst nightmare? Yeah, you did. But I’m pretending it was the thought of marriage as a whole, not me specifically you have a problem with.”
“I don’t like many people, Piper, but I like you.” Liam lifts his chin. His heated gaze snags on mine, and pressure builds behind my ribs. “I think you’ve become one of my best friends, and treating you that way was out of line. I hate myself for it. This thing between us is going to be meaningless when you find the guy you’re going to settle down with, but until then, I don’t want you to walk around believing I think you’re a mistake. You’re not.”
“Forty-eight hours ago you were furious at the idea of being married. What changed?” I challenge.
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“We didn’t have practice this morning, so I went for a run to clear my head. I got turned around and ended up in front of the Capital Area Food Bank. There was a big sign in the window that said VOLUNTEERS NEEDED. I went in. Don’t know why I went in, but I did. I spent a few hours sorting food donations for people who wonder where their next meal is coming from. For high school students who are working part time jobs while also going to classes. It hit me how fucking selfish I was being about all of this.” His shoulders curl in and he hangs his head. “I have millions of dollars. I could break my leg tomorrow, never play again, and I won’t worry about money for the rest of my life. I’m mad about the pressure a drunken wedding might put on me while someone four blocks over is going to bed hungry and trying to figure out how they’re going to put breakfast on the table for their kids. That is fucking pressure. My reaction to this whole thing with us was totally out of line.”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what part of that story I’m hanging onto the most. The fact he considers me one of his best friends? His selfless heart? His ability to admit when he was wrong?
All of the above?
“That sounds like an emotional day,” I finally whisper, and he rubs the back of his neck. “And it was very kind of you to spend your morning there.”
“It was needed. Helped me get my head out of my ass.”
I bring the bouquet to my nose, and a smile sneaks out of me. “Put your coat on the rack and come to the living room. I’m going to put these in some water, and I’ll meet you there.”
I head to the kitchen, and Liam’s footsteps follow me. I busy myself with unwrapping the flowers, cutting the stems and arranging them in a vase. It’s probably petty to stall for time, but I want to make him sweat a bit.
Satisfied with how the arrangement looks, I set it on the kitchen island and head for the living room. Liam is on the couch, staring at the framed photo on the coffee table.
“Your parents?” he asks, pointing to the picture from when I was a kid.
“Yeah.” I join him on the sofa and pull my feet under me. I set a blanket over my lap and lean back. “Judy and Elijah Mitchell.”
“Where do they live?”
“They’re down in Florida. They retired a couple years ago and headed south for the warmer weather. Do your parents still live in Chicago?”
“Yeah. In the house I grew up in. I’ve tried to move them out of the city onto a piece of property that has a lot of land, but they don’t want to leave. They’re stubborn.”
“Sounds familiar.” I rest my elbow on the cushion and look at him. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
“They don’t fix the problem,” he grumbles. The gears switch to the situation we’ve found ourselves in rather than small talk. “I’m not putting a Band-Aid on it.”
“I’ve been thinking about the problem.” I reach for the notepad I’ve been scribbling on all day and hold it up so he can see. “I made a very extensive pros and cons list.”
“You’ve been busy. What’s number one on the con side?”
My lips twitch. “How grumpy you are. Followed closely by how much you kick in your sleep.”
“Valid.”
“Before I tell you my opinions, I want to know what you think we should do.”
“I’ve gone back and forth. An annulment makes everything go away. No one will ever know—besides Hudson, that fucker—and we can pretend it never happened. Staying married means it’ll end in divorce when we’re ready to move on, which is a lot harder to hide. The flip side of that, though, is you’ll have access to my bank account. My insurance and, as much as I hate to say it, my name.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone in this city knows who I am. You mention you’re Liam Sullivan’s wife, and you’re going to get things you didn’t have before. It’s a shitty privilege because I’m no better than anyone out there doing their job, but it exists.”
There’s a flutter in my chest when he says word.
Wife .
“What would that mean for our personal lives? We’re not going to cohabitate, are we? It’s strictly a legal obligation for medical benefits.”
“Correct. You live your life. I live mine. If you want to keep doing our sex lessons, we can, but I’m not sure if that would complicate things more. There’s no obligation to me. Well, besides Spain for the wedding,” he adds, almost like an afterthought. “But I can understand if you want to back out of that too.”
It’s my turn to be selfish, because I can’t imagine stopping our lessons now.
We’re nearing the finish line, and I’ve been dreaming about what sex would be like with Liam.
Everything up to this point has been earth-shattering.
He’s set the bar high for future relationships because he’s thorough. Persistent. A giver who isn’t happy until I’m happy, and it’s disarming to be taken care of physically and emotionally.
There are the orgasms that rattle my world.
But there are other smaller, more important things.
The way he holds me after we’ve cleaned up. The kiss to my forehead and his arms, heavy and steady, as my feet come back to the ground.
I know people look at Liam Sullivan and see a professional athlete, but with me, he’s so much more.
Kind and considerate.
Soft and tender.
A man with a heart so big, I never have to worry about where I stand.
He’s my best friend too.
And I’m certain down deep in my soul, no matter which way this goes, there won’t be any resentment or anger at the end of it all. It won’t be like the last time I was married. I won’t be wishing I could take days or weeks or months back.
He’ll make me as happy as he does right now, and what a gift that is.
I glance down at my extensive list, and I know it doesn’t matter what might be on the con side. I’ve made my decision.
“I don’t want an annulment,” I say slowly. His chin jerks up and he looks at me. “We’re sleeping together. We’re going to pretend to date. How hard can a marriage-with-benefits be?”
Liam’s grin is slow and beautiful. He reaches across the cushions and wraps his fingers around my wrist, giving me a little tug. I tumble toward him, our chests almost pressed together and our mouths inches apart.
“I want you to be sure,” he murmurs. “Don’t say yes because you think it’s what I want to hear. Don’t say yes because you think it’s going to make you cursed down the road. Don’t say yes because you think men are going to care how many times you’ve been divorced. Say yes only because you really and truly want to be legally bound to me, Piper. Because you want to be my wife and benefit from what I have to give you for now.”
“I know you have access to things I don’t, but that’s not the only reason I want you to be my husband, Liam.” I lick my lips, and he follows the path of my tongue. “The time I’ve spent with you is the most fun I’ve ever had. I feel free. Like when I go back into the dating world, I won’t be afraid. We don’t have much time left before we’ve fulfilled all the parts of our agreement with the lessons and your sister’s wedding, and I want to be greedy. I want to have fun for a little while longer.”
“We keep this between us.” He brushes his nose against mine, and I close my eyes. “We don’t tell anyone else. Not your friends. Not the team.”
“I think we’re supposed to kiss to make this official.” I dig my fingernails into his thigh. “Man and wife and all of that.”
“Looks like you’re going to have to be in charge of this lesson. What else can you teach me, Piper?”
Before I can say anything else, Liam’s mouth is on mine.
His kiss is lazy. Slow and sensual until I’m kicking the blanket off the couch and straddling his lap. His hand rests on my lower back then drifts down to cup my ass. I feel him hard under me, the length of his cock pressing against me in a torturous way, and then cool metal brushes against my skin.
Holy shit .
He’s still wearing his wedding ring .
“How’s that, wife ?” he asks, his lips moving to my jaw. “Official enough for you?”
My words catch in my throat. I can’t speak, too enthralled by the path of his palms and where his mouth might go next.
I can only nod, sinking into the pleasure of knowing I might have made the best decision of my life.
Getting married a second time is a hell of a lot more fun than the first.