11. SIX
SIX
ALEX
Karma is a fickle bitch.
Sometimes, I swear she has a personal vendetta against me.
Like that time I left my cleats at Leo’s house and ended up overhearing him violating my little sister when I dropped by to pick them up.
And though I’m sure Karma found it funny, I invariably did not.
In fact, I’ve spent multiple sessions with Dr. Sharma, trying to work through the trauma of it all.
But on occasion, there are little glimmers of kindness that could easily be mistaken for luck or coincidence. I see them for what they are, though: evidence that Karma, in spite of her roguery, might be on my side.
And now she’s presented me with the perfect solution to my predicament—and, it seems, the solution to Eden’s as well. Though, clearly Eden hasn’t realized this yet, since she’s rocking back and forth in her chair with tearful eyes and a mortified flush to her cheeks.
“So…your ex is a bit of a prick, huh?” I say to break the ice.
If I’d thought her boss was an asshole, he has nothing on the man she married. A patronizing, self-important bastard with a stick shoved so far up his ass he walks with a slight tilt.
She offers me a sad laugh. “To put it mildly.”
“And you married him?”
I can’t make sense of them together. He’s so stiff, with his briefcase and pressed suit, his nose so steep he’s perpetually looking down at everyone. The finance-bro, I’m-better-than-everyone type.
But she’s so…untamed. A wild, shimmering blur of chaos who spills ink all over herself and throws insults like a seasoned javelineer.
“Not willingly,” she mutters.
Well, that’s worth unpacking. My mind nosedives into thoughts of the worst-case scenario, my instincts flaring to life as I begin plotting vengeance on her behalf. My nostrils flare with the rush of anger, and Eden’s eyes flick to them.
“That sounded worse than I meant.”
“So you weren’t in some kind of hostage situation and forced up the aisle at gunpoint?”
Her lips twitch. She looks down at her hands then back up to me with a small shake of her head. “No.”
“Care to tell me what happened?”
“Not really.”
I lean against her desk, crossing one leg over the other, feigning calm confidence when, really, I’m still kind of fucked up over her admission and the things I overheard when I walked in. “Hey now. I thought we were in a serious, committed relationship.”
She shudders. Shudders. As if being in a relationship with me is an idea so repulsive she can’t help but have a visceral physical reaction.
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t chip at my ego.
Eden rakes her hands down her face and groans. “I fucked up.”
My brow lifts. “How’s that?”
“I just lied to my ex-husband about dating a fucking MLS player to stop him from filing for custody of my son. If he didn’t see straight through it immediately—because, let’s face it, why would a top-level athlete ever want to date me?
—he’ll know the next time he sees Macon, and then he’ll have even more ammunition to use against me. ”
She’s talking so fast her face is turning red from lack of breath. And yet, she keeps going.
“What was I thinking? That I could just tell him I’m dating you and he’d accept it?
That he wouldn’t start asking questions when he never sees you with me again?
Or when you’re pictured with yet another woman leaving some hotel, because Christ, Alex, that is an extraordinarily common occurrence for you.
Shit. Shit. Shit. What the fuck have I done? ”
I have her face in my hands before I’ve even realized I’ve moved, smoothing my thumbs back and forth over her cheeks in slow, gentle strokes. “Breathe,” I whisper.
Panicked eyes stare back at me, her chest rising and falling with the same erratic speed as before.
“Look. Follow me.” I suck in a deep breath then release it slowly, repeating the process until she begins to mirror it. “That’s it. Keep doing that.”
We stay like that for a while, breathing in silence and trapped in some mystifying stare-off that has wings fluttering in my stomach. Weird. I haven’t felt that sensation since I was in high school and asked the head cheerleader to prom.
That was the night I lost my virginity. But I guess that isn’t important right now.
Finally, Eden’s skin returns to its normal shade, and the panic begins to leak from her gaze. She shakes my hands off her face, a wave of awkwardness washing over her as she sits back in her seat and clears her throat.
“Thanks.”
I shrug. “No problem. My therapist taught me how to do that.”
Her head tilts. “You have a therapist?”
“Yep. My friend hooked me up with her because he seems to think I have unresolved issues.”
A completely unfounded opinion, I might add.
Yes, I reacted badly to discovering Leo’s relationship with my sister.
And sure, I may have punched him in the face after realizing I’d overheard him defiling her when I’d shown up at his apartment—I’d even congratulated him on doing a good job, back when I thought he was in there with a different woman—but unresolved issues I have not.
“Well, I could have told you that.”
Great, the insults are back. “I’m going to choose to overlook that comment, because we have something more pressing to discuss.” I sit back on her desk and cross my arms, serious and sincere. “I have a solution to your dilemma.”
Her dark hair swishes as her head snaps up.
She fights to maintain apathy, but I see the glimmer of hope in her glassy brown eyes and the crease of curiosity in her forehead.
Her scrubs crumple as she shifts in her seat, one leg crossing over the other then dropping back to where it was, like she doesn’t know what to do with herself. “Yeah?”
“Yep. It just so happens that I am in the market for a fake girlfriend, and it would seem you are in need of a very charming and incredibly handsome fake boyfriend.”
I’m met with a short exhale, almost a scoff, then…silence. Not quite the reaction I was expecting after serving her everything she needs on a silver fucking platter, but whatever.
Her brows jerk then pull tight. “What a staggering coincidence.”
I give her my most dazzling smile. “Some would call it fate.”
“Would they?” she deadpans. “I’m not one of those people.”
This isn’t going the way I thought it would.
Beads of sweat break out on my forehead, and I wipe them away before Eden has a chance to notice.
I’m supposed to be the picture of confidence, the pilot of this airplane, the captain steering the ship straight to the shores of success.
There’s no way she’ll feel assured enough to go along with this if I don’t make it seem like I’m one-hundred percent certain it will work out for us both.
“Look,” I level with her, “I’m going to be honest with you.
I’ve found myself in some hot water with the team.
It’s a whole thing, and I won’t bore you with it all right now, but I need someone to pretend to be my loving and committed girlfriend so that I can rescue my reputation with the media.
The execs are threatening to kick me off the team if I don’t, so I’m kind of desperate.
And I’d have never asked you if you hadn’t pretended that I was your boyfriend first, so if you look at it that way… it was kind of your idea.”
She still doesn’t look convinced. If anything, she looks even more put off by the idea than she did before I started talking. Sighing, she leans back in her chair and massages her temples with the heels of her hands. “What you just said is exactly the reason this would be a terrible fucking idea.”
My brow crinkles in confusion. I thought I just made a very compelling argument. “What did I say wrong?”
“You’d have never asked me.” She gestures to herself with a self-deprecating laugh.
“I’m a dental receptionist with no money, and I live in a one-bedroom apartment with my ten-year-old son.
You basically said it yourself: in no world would a relationship between a world-famous athlete and a woman like me be believable. We’d be caught before we even started.”
“Wait. What?” I’m so confused. “That’s not what I meant by that at all.”
She arches a disbelieving eyebrow. “Oh?”
“I wouldn’t have asked you because we don’t know each other very well, and frankly, you don’t seem to like me all that much.”
It’s a sad fact, but a fact, nonetheless.
“Though, actually…” I pause, thinking. “You not liking me might actually work in our favor.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, if we’re going to do this—which we are, by the way—it would make it significantly more complicated if one of us were to develop feelings for the other. And clearly, that’s not going to be an issue with you.”
She snorts. “Clearly.”
“As for the dental receptionist thing, you’re right that people would find that difficult to digest.”
She throws her hands up in the air. “Exactly.”
“So you need to quit your job.”
“What’s that now?”
I’m nodding to myself, words flowing from my mouth without any intervention from my brain. “Well, no one would believe that an athlete on my kind of salary would allow their girlfriend to keep such a shitty job.”
Her face flames. “Excuse me? Allow? There’s no ‘allowing’ me to do anything.”
“Wait, no, that came out wrong. What I meant was—”
“Is a woman not ‘allowed’ independence in your world? The agency to make her own decisions? Hell, is she even ‘allowed’ her own bank account? Sorry, I didn’t realize the MLS still lived in the fifties.”
Oh, Jesus. “If you would just let me speak for a second, I could explain—”
“And don’t you dare call my job shitty.” She stands and stabs me in the chest with a pointed finger. “If I’m so beneath you, then go and find someone else to do your little roleplay bullshit with.”
“Eden, I—”
“And another thing!”
“Eden?”
She stops and thankfully reduces the pressure with which she’s using to prod my chest. “What?”
“I didn’t mean that how it sounded. Truly.
What I meant was, our incomes are different.
And it would be expected, if we’re in a committed relationship, that you wouldn’t be wanting for anything and would, therefore, have no need to be in a job that doesn’t value you or pay you what you deserve.
I’m only saying that, if you were to keep working here, it would raise more questions than we can answer. ”
She softens, sinking back into her seat with a quiet, “Oh.”
“It would seem like I’m exploiting you, and the goal here is to make me look better in the media, not worse. And for the record, I think what you do is admirable.”
She barks a laugh. “Oh, you have a lot of respect for dental receptionists, do you? We’re just your regular old war heroes, serving our countries on the frontlines of dental healthcare.”
My lips twitch. Damn, this woman won’t let me rest for even a second. “I meant that you show up every day for your son, even though you clearly hate your job and your boss is a fucking prick. I think that’s worth a little admiration.”
For the first time in this conversation, she’s lost for words. She stews on what I’ve said for a long, pregnant minute then whispers, “Thanks, I guess.”
I shrug. “You’re welcome.”
She peers up at me through her lashes with a small smile. “For the record, I don’t think there’s anything admirable about kicking a ball for millions of dollars.”
“Fair.”
“So, what do you expect me to do for money if I quit my job? You understood the part where I said I have a son, right? He needs food, clothing, and you know…a place to live.”
“I’ll pay you.”
“You’ll subsidize what I’m losing from my job so I can pretend to be your girlfriend?”
“No, actually.” I shake my head then press on before she can yell at me again.
“I was thinking one mil up front for a ten-month period, since we’ll have to keep this going until at least the end of the season in December.
Then a further two million to tide you over while you find a job you actually want to do.
That should be enough to find you a bigger place too, right? ”
Her face drains of color. She opens her mouth, snaps it shut, then repeats the process again. It goes on for so long I start to worry that I’ve shocked her into an absence seizure.
“As much as I enjoy watching you gape like a goldfish, would you mind saying something now?”
She rolls her lips and nods. Still silent.
“Eden?”
“Um,” she clears her throat. “Three million dollars?”
“Yeah, if that isn’t enough, we can look at it together and reach a figure you’d be happy with.”
“No.” She shakes her head so hard I’m sure she’ll give herself a concussion. “That’s…um… That’s…”
“You need to give me something here, Eden, because I have absolutely no idea what you’re thinking.”
She snaps herself out of whatever trance she was in and stares up at me with a dazed expression. “Is that not a bit too Pretty Woman?”
“I wouldn’t be paying you to have sex with me.”
“No?” She nods to herself again. “Okay, well, that’s reassuring.”
“And your boss is an asshole. Think about how good it would feel to slam a resignation letter down on his desk.”
I might have got her with that one.
Her eyebrows lift, an edge of excitement crinkling the corners of her eyes. “You make a good point.”
“Do you have any other concerns? Any rules of your own that you want to put in place?”
She gnaws on the skin of her thumb, her eyelashes fluttering furiously on top of her pink cheeks.
“I think…I need to think about it. I mean, there’s so much at stake.
I need to think about how this affects my son, you know?
I can’t make a decision like this right now, not without considering everything.
The last thing I want is for him to be affected by the choices I make, and this is such a big risk. ”
“Yeah, I get it.”
And I do. I can’t imagine the pressure she has on her as a single mom, especially when she’s co-parenting with a man who, from what I overheard, shows more affection to his briefcase than to his kid. Not to mention the fact that he’s threatening to take the little boy away from her.
It wouldn’t be fair for me to force her into a decision now, no matter how desperate I am for her to say yes. Children come first always.
So, I hold out my phone to her and tell her to put her number in. She can text me when she’s decided.
The ball’s in her court now.