Chapter 26
JO
The Iron left for Edmonton yesterday, and I went home to work on my portfolio.
While Nico and I never talked about it, I’ve all but moved in to his apartment.
Whenever he’s home, I sleep at his place, and every time I spend the night, I end up leaving more of my belongings there.
It started with a toothbrush, then face wash, and then Nico cleared out drawers and space in his closet for me.
Half of his Christmas gift to me was a shopping spree at Ulta.
The other half was paying for a website upgrade.
He hired a developer to design a custom site that “matched the beauty of my work.”
He certainly knows the way to my heart.
And it’s impossible to say that this relationship is fake anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time. If ever.
What Nico said is true—he is loyal, and when he’s home, he’s home. He makes me feel like I’m the only one in the room when we’re out, and when we’re alone, I don’t ever feel like he’s thinking about someone else or wants to be anywhere else.
Yet I haven’t been able to gather the courage to bring it up. To outright ask him what he thinks about what we are. If this is real or still some kind of show for the public.
Because as much as I know Nico’s heart, it is impossible to fully silence the voices in my head. I can’t forget about my life before I became Nico Tremblay’s fake fiancée.
As much as I am inexperienced in almost all things romantic relationships, so is Nico. This is his first go-round for a serious committed relationship, and I think—in my limited knowledge—that we’re both doing all right. We take care of each other, support each other, and have fun.
If only I could be brave enough to ask, Is this really what we’re doing?
Instead of doing that, I hit send on the series of photos I added to a private online album only for Nico and me. After our impromptu photo shoot in bed two nights ago, I spent a few hours looking through them the next day. They weren’t technically well done, but they were real.
They were visceral.
Human.
Hot.
We captured blurred hands and open mouths.
Flushed skin and beads of sweat.
His blue eyes darkened with desire, his face half hidden between my legs.
My nipple caught between his fingers. The length of his erection as he stood in front of me, proud and ready.
His hunger fully exposed. To say nothing of my swollen lips and undiluted thirst for him.
My hands reaching for him, my eyes soft with want.
They were gorgeous, if a little pornographic. And I knew Nico would love them.
But I didn’t expect my phone to ring only two minutes later. Still staring at the photos on my computer screen, I laugh at what I imagine will be his response. “Shouldn’t you be in a team meeting or something?”
“Josephine.”
My smile drops at my mother’s voice. “Mom?”
“Yes, Josephine. Who else would it be?”
“I, uh…thought it was—”
“You need to come home.”
I close my laptop and stand from my kitchen table. “I’m not coming home. I’m—”
“Granny passed away.”
My breath catches. “She died?”
“Went to sleep last night and didn’t wake up this morning.”
I press my fingers to my trembling chin. The old gal was so full of life, even having just turned one hundred years old, it’s hard to think about her not being here anymore.
“You’ll need to come home,” my mother says, but I’m already reaching for my bag.
“I will. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I hang up hastily, mentally making plans.
I don’t like flying, but it would be the quickest way to get there, though I’m sure ticket prices would be exorbitant so last minute.
A bus would be cheaper, but as I start researching trips, I find all the rides to be between ten and twelve hours, making me arrive after midnight, so someone would need to pick me up from the bus stop, which is not anywhere close to my hometown.
An hour into my dithering, unable to concentrate on accomplishing one task at a time, a few pairs of jeans and underwear packed, a Greyhound listing up, and my cell phone in my hand, knowing I need to tell Sean I need some time off, it vibrates again. This time, it is Nico.
“These photos, mama. What are you trying to do to me? Got me all hot and bothered when I need to nap before the game.”
“Nico, Granny died. I need to go home.”
“Jo, god, I’m so sorry.”
I wipe at the gathering tears in my eyes. “My mom called. I’m not sure when the services are, but I’ll probably have to be there for a few days.”
“Yeah, of course. Whatever you need to do.”
“There’s a bus that leaves in an hour—”
“You’re not taking the bus home. You’re not going to be spending hours on a bus on the way to your great-grandmother’s funeral with a bunch of strangers and changing lines.”
I slump on the floor, against my bed. “There’s no other choice. Even if I didn’t mind flying, I can’t afford to spend four hundred dollars on a plane ticket.”
“You can afford it. I can afford it, and I’m getting you a goddamn ticket. So you’ll take some Melatonin and get on the fucking plane, Josephine.”
“Oh…kay. Okay.” I breathe out a watery laugh. “You don’t need to yell at me.”
His voice is markedly sweeter when he says, “I’m not yelling at you, but I am worried about you.”
“It’s… I just didn’t expect it. I knew it would happen, but I never… Pawpaw died when I was little, so I don’t remember… This is my first funeral. The first person to…”
When my voice cracks and the tears come, Nico sighs. “Oh babe, I’m so sorry. I wish I were there, but I’ll come as soon as I can, all right? I’ll get on a flight and be there for the funeral, I promise. You won’t be alone.”
It’s quiet for a minute before he tells me, “I just Venmo’d you a thousand dollars. That should be enough for the plane ticket and rental car when you’re there. If it’s not, let me know. Also, I’m going to be getting a credit card with your name on it. I should have done it before now.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“Yes, I do. For times like this. And for whenever you want to buy something. Whenever you need something. It’s not my money anymore. It’s our money.”
Our money.
It’s as much of a declaration as either of us has said out loud so far, and I sniffle. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Thank you, Nico.”
This man. I bite back a smile. “Thank you, Nico.”
“All right, stop flirting with me and get to packing. I’ll see you as soon as I can.”
I force myself to move, heartened at his words. “Okay.”
“And, Jo, I—”
My phone vibrates in my hand yet again, and I pull it away from my ear to see it’s my mother. “I’ve got to go. It’s my mom calling again. I’ll text you later.”
“Yeah, okay. Bye, Jojo.”
“Bye, Nico.”
I end the call with him to answer my mother’s as I continue packing.
She talks more and faster than usual, clearly dealing with her grief by overcommunicating.
She rattles off the names of everyone she’s spoken to this morning and each person who has stopped by the house, also the details of the funeral service, and that I should bring something appropriate to wear, not like that “tarty thing” I wore to the party.
Because even at a time like this, she needs to remind me I don’t fit in.
Made even more obvious when I touch down in West Virginia for the second time in the last three months.
Without Nico with me, I’m not as confident being here.
My skin crawls with nerves. My stomach twists with the backhanded insults I know will be thrown my way.
No escaping my reputation as the outcast.
I’ve barely set foot inside the door when Lizzie corners me in the hall. “Where’s Nico?”
I roll my eyes. “Can I at least put my bag down?”
She follows me into the bedroom we used to share, the one that’s only hers now. It used to have bunk beds. Now it’s one bed with a sleeping bag on the floor for me. Like a stepsister.
Cinderella.
Except I don’t have a fairy godmother or a bunch of singing mice.
But I do have something that makes my sister brim with jealousy. “So,” she tries again. “Where is your fiancé? Shouldn’t he be here in your hour of need?”
“The team’s in Edmonton. He said he’d come as soon as he can.”
“Oh yeah?” She sits back on her bed, smirking at me. “As soon as he can? The gorgeous professional athlete is going to rearrange his schedule to come here? For you?”
I ignore the dig. Ignore her attempts to put me down. Because I know the truth. The promises he’s made me. As the text message on my phone with his flight information says.
“Leave her alone, Liz.”
I glance over my shoulder to find Waylon in the doorway, dressed casually, off duty. He dips his chin at me in greeting. We didn’t leave off on the best of terms at the party, and I’m not sure I’m ready to accept any kind of peace offering, especially if it involves my sister.
“You know what?” I pick up my bag. “I think I’d rather sleep on the couch.”
Lizzie snorts at my back, taking my escape for what it is—running away.
I squeeze past Waylon at the door and scoot downstairs, volunteering to set the table for dinner, a reheated casserole dropped off by someone this morning.
Mamaw arrives to eat with us, eyes rimmed red, but still she’s dressed to the nines, refusing to let herself go even during this time.
Mom lifts her eyebrows at me, as if I should be the same way, clearly hating my Iron sweats.
While we eat, Lizzie mostly scrolls on her phone.
Dad finishes eating as fast as possible, and Waylon sends me looks across the table like he wants to chat, but I don’t care about what he has to say.
As soon as we’re done eating, I head outside, not interested in looking at pictures of Danny’s baby or hearing Mamaw tell another story about Granny.
Instead, I take a walk in the woods behind the house for a while, only returning once it’s too dark to see the path in front of me, but my sister is waiting at the back door, cell phone in hand.
“Thought you might want to see this,” she says with a shit-eating grin.
“What?”
“Look.” She shoves the screen in my face. “I’m not sure he’s going to be making it for the funeral.”
I finally focus on her cell phone, lit up in the dark night. On it are fuzzy snapshots, showing Nico walking down the street, with this signature easygoing smile plastered across his face, his arm wrapped around a pretty woman I’ve never seen before.
“There’s more.”
I reluctantly—stupidly—take her phone when she offers it to me. I scroll through three more photos, including one of Nico kissing her head. The same way he kisses mine.
“Looks awfully cozy,” Lizzie singsongs, and I feel like I want to throw up. I push her phone back into her hands, stumbling past her, my eyes stinging with tears, smudging my view of the victorious light in her eyes.
“He’s allowed to have friends,” I manage, the words rough against my throat, but I’m not sure she even heard them as I rush to the bathroom, sinking to the cool tile floor.
I believe him to be loyal to me. There is no other evidence he hasn’t been, but I truly don’t know. I can’t be positive he hasn’t been with other women behind my back this whole time when he’s on the road. He earned his reputation for a reason.
After all, no one ever really believed he would love and marry me—Josephine Atkins.
Not even me.
I don’t throw up my dinner, but I do stay on the floor for a long, long time, my thoughts an endless loop of what-ifs. Reality and fantasy blending until I’m not sure I’m remembering the last few months correctly at all.
The biggest player in the National Hockey League wanted me?
I’m not so sure about that.
I’m not so sure about anything anymore, and by the time I curl up into a ball on the couch, I’m not sure I know who Nico Tremblay is anymore.