Chapter 15 Rosie
We shuffle off the train and into the pick-up lot outside the station. During the warmer months, the walk from the station to Cain’s home isn’t bad, but with the storm that’s blowing in tonight, and the frigid wind that’s beating the city, a ride to his house was a much better option.
It only takes a few seconds for us to spot him. Cain’s leaning against his truck, his arms crossed like he’s sizing up the whole situation.
I know he worked from home today because of the storm, which means he’s probably been overthinking the decision to have Boone come home with me just as much as I have been.
“Hi, Rosie,” he says, pulling me in for a quick hug before turning to Boone. They shake hands, Cain’s expression completely unreadable. “Well, this is a weird weekend. Can’t say I’ve ever had a client stay at my house while working on a case.”
I bite my lip, holding back the urge to blurt out an offer for Boone to stay at my place tonight instead. Not that it’d be a good idea. Definitely not. I figure I’ll leave that conversation for later. Maybe.
There’s no way I’ll get the courage.
Cain gestures toward his truck. “Let’s go. Rhiannon made pork chops and salad. And apparently, she and Eden have some winter game they used to play during snowstorms that, according to her, is incredibly inappropriate.”
Boone chuckles as he tosses his bag into the back of Cain’s truck, his voice low and easy.
“Oh, can’t wait to find out what that’s about.” He’s already fitting in, and I have to bite back a smile because somehow, this all feels right.
Did I ever picture myself bringing a guy home to meet the Carpenters—my sister-in-law, her chaotic family, and my baby niece—when I hardly know them? Absolutely not.
And did I ever think that guy would also be my fake husband? Hard no.
Yet here we are. And if anyone’s prepared to walk straight into the whirlwind that is Rhiannon, Gabriel, and Eden, it’s Boone. He just has this presence about him that screams he’s used to chaotic family drama which reminds me I need to ask him more about his brother’s.
The feeling is only confirmed when we step inside Cain and Rhiannon’s little yellow house by the lake.
“Mrs. Tremblay!” Rhiannon shouts, barreling toward me for a hug, her voice is bright and teasing. “I’m so excited you’re here!”
I roll my eyes, because of course she’s calling me by Boone’s last name now even though she knows my name is still Prescott.
She’s never done it before, but she’ll take any opportunity to goad us about our marriage.
I know it’s done from a place of love. Rhiannon’s become one of my closest friends since she married my brother.
“I’ve been surprised that you two haven’t been together on the weekends, what with all the newlywed bliss.”
I give her a pointed look. “We’re not all like you and Cain.”
She grins unapologetically. “You’re right. Being a sex therapist has its perks.”
Boone’s brows shoot up. “You’re a sex therapist?”
Rhiannon beams at him. “Yep! So, you know that problem you’ve been having in the bedroom with Rosie? We can talk about that later. I have some tips to make it fit better.”
Boone nearly chokes, his brows raising even higher, while Cain groans loudly from the doorway watching us. “Rhiannon. Please. You just met him.”
She waves my brother off, completely unbothered. “Come on, guys. It’s going to be a storm. Let’s all lighten up!”
Eden pushes through the front door behind us, shaking off the cold. “It’s windy, but I don’t think it’ll be that bad. Now, next weekend’s storm? That one’s supposed to be a bombogenesis.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Snow cyclone. This weekend should just be a dusting.”
Cain clears his throat, steering us back to reality. “Well, regardless, Boone’s here so that we can work on the case and stick together in the event his court appearance on Tuesday goes virtual.”
Rhiannon slides a shot glass of tequila into my hand and raises her own with a mischievous smile. “Cheers! Welcome to the family, Boone!”
“Cheers to what?” I ask, suspicious.
She shrugs dramatically. “Marriage? Isn’t it the best?”
I snort but knock the shot back anyway, feeling the burn warm my chest. Boone’s lips twitch, like he’s trying not to laugh as he exchanges hugs with Eden and Rhiannon all while Cain lets out another long-suffering sigh.
“Okay, let’s eat before Rhiannon and Rosie turn this storm into tequila-fueled chaos,” Cain grumbles, leading the way toward the dining room.
Boone falls into step beside me, leaning in just enough for his voice to rumble low against my ear. “I like Rhiannon. She’s fun.”
“Just wait until she starts grilling you about your sex life. You might regret saying that.”
He chuckles. “I wouldn’t mind. There’s not much to share.”
And there’s that stupid flutter of my heart that doesn’t make any sense. He pulls out my seat for me at the table. “After you, Mrs. Tremblay,” he murmurs so only I can hear, and I take it.
And though he doesn’t hold my hand like he did during our interview three weeks ago, especially when there’s no need to act like we’re married in front of my family, for some reason I miss it.
Two hours, a delicious, homemade dinner, and four tequila shots later, Rhiannon, Eden, and I are a wreck.
There are tears streaming down our faces, makeup smeared and we’re all gasping for air as we laugh so hard I’m clutching my side.
We’re playing charades waiting out the storm, but not just any charades.
Rhiannon found this set of cards on a sex shop site that she recommends to the couples in her therapy practice when they want to spice things up, so everything we’re acting out is. ..well, NSFW.
Boone’s parked on the couch, sipping ice water and watching us with quiet amusement. He’s the only sober one in the room and I wonder if it’s hard to stick to that with how out of control we’re all acting.
Meanwhile, my brother and Gabriel—Rhiannon’s older brother and their next-door neighbor—have jumped into the chaos alongside Eden’s new boyfriend, Dexter, their laughter just as loud as ours.
“Okay, my turn!” I announce, hiccupping a giggle before catching myself. “Wait. No talking. Let me start over.”
“You already said something, Rosie,” Eden teases, doubling over as I mime zipping my lips shut.
Ignoring her, I point at my chest with exaggerated urgency. This is the lightest I’ve felt in a long time.
“Boobs!” Rhiannon shouts.
I shake my head.
“Titties!” Eden yells.
I nod.
“Rack?” Gabriel offers.
I snort and run my palm up the center of my breasts repeatedly.
At this point, I’m a full-blown disaster. Wildly miming, jerking off the air like a lunatic while stabbing my finger at my chest.
Tears blur my vision, and I’m bent over, clutching my sides, while Rhiannon and Eden are literally rolling on the floor, screaming out the most ridiculous guesses that make no sense.
Then, Boone’s voice cuts through the madness, calm and serious. “Titty fucking,” he says.
The room freezes.
I straighten, struggling to stifle a laugh as I meet Boone’s gaze head on. He’s looking right at me but there’s no humor there. His expression is caught somewhere between amused and heated desire.
I wet my lips. Oh my god, why is he looking at me like that? Is it the tequila that has my brain confused by his expression or does my fake husband… want me?
“Yes,” I confirm, my voice wobbling with suppressed and nervous laughter. “It was titty fucking.”
Rhiannon snorts so loudly it sets Eden off again. Both of them start howling as we all collapse into another round of hysterics.
“Have you ever?” Rhiannon asks me, wiping tears from her face.
I shake my head. “You’d need either a lot of effort to squeeze my size B’s together tight enough or, like...a massive dick that makes up for the space.”
Rhiannon cackles. “Cain does it all the time. It’s super-hot. You guys should try it some time.”
Cue dead silence.
My brother, sitting off to the side until now, stands abruptly, pulling his very drunk wife into his arms with a mixture of exasperation and affection. “And that’s our sign to end the game for tonight.”
My gaze flicks back to Boone, who’s biting back a laugh just like me, his eyes gleaming with that same quiet amusement.
“Oh, come on, Cain. It was just a joke. Rhiannon knows nothing would ever happen between Boone and me. No titty fucking here,” I joke playfully.
“I know that” Cain says sternly. “Boone would never risk his contract by touching you.”
But Cain’s not laughing and the look on Boone’s face tells me he doesn’t like the way my brother’s speaking for him.
“On that note…” I trail off, sliding over to where he’s got Rhiannon wrapped in his arms, protective as ever. I’m playing it casual, but my mind’s running off tequila and humor. If Rhiannon’s still down here, I can use that to my advantage because she's usually on my side when it comes to things.
And it's not that I want Boone staying at my place tonight. The house isn’t finished; it still looks rough, half-painted walls and unpacked boxes everywhere. And having him alone with me in a place that isn’t my apartment feels...dangerous.
But here’s the thing: I also don’t want to be alone tonight. Not when I feel this light, this happy and free.
Plus, he’s my husband. He should be staying with me.
I snort, and Cain’s brows shoot up like he’s caught me. Thankfully, I didn’t say that part out loud.
“Boone’s staying with me,” I announce, slipping straight into my lawyer voice. “I’ve got a guest bedroom. Piper still wakes up at night, and our client needs his sleep.”
“No.” Cain shakes his head firmly.
“You’re okay with having a stranger sleep in your home with your wife and baby?”
“Yes.”
“Cain, you just got done saying nothing would ever happen between us. What are you afraid of?”
“Rosie. Don’t.” His tone hardens, making it clear there’s no room for negotiation. And honestly, he’s probably right. It’s for the best that Boone doesn’t come home with me. But before I can retreat like a coward, Boone chimes in.
“We have the Valentine’s Day Ball for the Manhattan Mayhem next week,” he says smoothly. “I’m giving a speech, and Rosie’s joining me on stage as my wife, of course. We need time to prepare for that.”
Rhiannon lets out a dramatic sigh, her voice slurring slightly.
“Oh, let him stay at her house, Cain. This guy eats, sleeps, and breathes hockey. He broke up with his last fiancée over it. No way he’s risking his career for a fling with your sister.
Plus, they’ve been living together for a month now and nothing’s happened yet. ”
“You’ve been... what?” Cain snaps his gaze on me.
I motion for Rhiannon to shut up, but her eyes are already closed, melting into my brother’s arms. Though I told her that a week ago, I completely forgot to tell her not to mention it to my brother and the alcohol isn’t helping.
“He has nowhere else to live. He was living with one of his teammates. It would have looked suspicious if we lived separately.”
Cain shakes his head, clearly exhausted by all of us tonight. “We’ll talk about this later. Boone, you drive back to Rosie’s place. Don’t fuck this up.”
Without waiting for a thank-you, he turns on his heels and heads upstairs with Rhiannon in his arms.
I toss Cain’s spare car keys to Boone, and he catches them easily. He hesitates, his expression unreadable as his eyes lift to mine.
“Are you sure about this?”
I nod and try to feign indifference even though my thoughts are racing. “Yeah. It’s no big deal.”
His gaze drifts over me, slow and searching, the way it always does when he’s testing the truth of my words. The attention sends a familiar warmth through me, and I realize I’ve missed it. I’ve missed him.
In the city, everything is loud and crowded, and I haven’t been around him in a long time. Out here, it’s quiet and whatever I’ve been hiding from is exposed.
“Okay,” he says. “Let’s go then.”
The drive to my house on the other side of the lake is silent, the kind of quiet that sobers you no matter how much you’ve had to drink.
By the time we pull into the driveway of my home, the tequila buzz has burned off, replaced by a heavy, pressing awareness that we’re about to spend a night together with no one else around.
When we step inside my kitchen, I feel suddenly raw and exposed, the weight of my choice for him to stay at my place finally settling in.
Boone is here now, in my space, and I can’t stop wondering if I’ve somehow made a mistake.