Were marriage vows as sacred to Nichole as his own family? Had he ruined marriage for Nichole too? Dread and regret coiled through him. “I can do all that. I can be a good husband.”
He just never had the inclination. He never wanted to divert his attention away from football for a relationship. There it was again. Another checkmark in the selfish column. He’d always referred to himself as singularly focused. That was simple sugarcoating, like the powdered sugar his grandmother sprinkled on her crinkle cookies.
“It’s really good to know you can be all that.” Ivy walked into the kitchen and unpacked the paninis. Frustration had crept into her voice. “Because you’re going to have to do all that and more now that you’re a husband.”
His sister lengthened the word husband as if capitalized and highlighted in bold. Chase pulled plates from the cabinets and debated confessing.
They’d discourage him from continuing a fake marriage. Might even let the truth slip to someone outside the family, believing they were being helpful. Nichole’s chances at a sale would diminish. And he had his own contract negotiations to consider. Selfish check mark number two.
He was quickly earning the championship title in the all-about-me category. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked his messages: more congratulations from teammates, coaching staff and Pioneers’ management filled the text previews. Mission Reputational Repair was in full progress.
Quick beats of pleasure pulsed inside him. The approval proved difficult to ignore.
An image of Nichole on the stairs outside the cathedral flashed in his mind. His breath skipped again. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had made him breathless from nothing more than a brilliant smile and perfectly fitted gown. He’d almost believed Nichole was his...
Chase set the plates on the counter and cast his misplaced thoughts aside. Defeat came when players lost focus. They had a business arrangement and contracts to finalize. Nothing that should make his knees buckle and his heart trip over itself. “Mallory suggested I needed a wife.”
“Only to speak as your conscience.” Burlap tangled around Mallory’s hands. “And not immediately.”
“It wasn’t a bad suggestion.” Nonna unwound the burlap from Mallory’s grip and frowned at him. “Yet your methods to achieve such a goal make me consider that Ivy might be correct. You’ve taken one too many hits to your head.”
Chase grinned. His grandmother hadn’t questioned his ability to be married. She’d been disappointed he’d excluded his family. He’d be sure to include them if he ever decided to step into marriage for real.
“I’m sorry about this. Really sorry. I know you’ll need time to forgive me.” He loaded regret and chagrin into his voice, lowered his shoulders, dropped his chin to his chest. “It just all happened so fast.” Literally, in one day. With one misspoken phrase.
“At least tell us who you married.” His mother held a plain, unadorned wreath frame in front of her as if to protect herself from the answer. “You’ve excluded us enough already.”
Perhaps this revelation would ease the hurt and usher in their forgiveness. His family had adored Nichole. Chase straightened and embraced one truth he could admit. “Nichole Moore.”
Four sets of eyes stared at him. Unblinking. Composed. Unimpressed. Surely, they remembered Nichole. She’d been an important part of his life. A vital part. An unforgettable part.
“Nichole Moore,” Chase repeated, putting more emphasis on Nichole’s name. “From high school.”
“Sweet, smart Nichole.” Ivy’s bold, buoyant smile returned. She set a sandwich on a plate with more flourish.
“Little Nikki.” His mom’s smile softened into her eyes.
She wasn’t Little Nikki any longer. Nichole was engaging and intriguing. And in a wedding gown, captivating. But she’d been captivating on his lap, right before he’d kissed her. Focus. Focus. Focus. He would’ve hit the side of his helmet if he’d been wearing one.
“You married that Nichole Moore.” Mallory jumped from her chair. Confusion pulled her eyebrows together. Her words came slow and succinct. “Nichole the class valedictorian. Summa cum laude. National Honor Society. And student voted most likely to invent the next generation’s iPhone.”
His family’s collective shock set him back. Or perhaps not. He’d always known, even in high school, Nichole was far out of his league. The idea she’d marry him, a jock without a college degree and a learning disability, was somewhat far-fetched. Chase managed a small nod.
“How did you reconnect with Nichole?” his mom asked.
“She invited me to dinner. I accepted.” That sounded reasonable. Plausible. What wasn’t reasonable or plausible was Nichole marrying him. “But the marriage...”
“I always liked her,” Mallory cut in.
He’d always liked Nichole too. Even when she had frustrated him. Or had pushed him to read more. He’d liked her. Now he’d convinced her to pretend to be his wife. How could she like him? He rarely second-guessed his decisions, even the bad ones. He simply accepted the consequences and moved on. But Nichole not liking him soured his insides. He swallowed but doubted a barrel of water could wash away the distaste. And if that wasn’t a bad sign, then he had learned nothing from Nonna and her tales about omens.
Ivy carried a sandwich plate into the family room and set it on the end table beside the couch. “How is Nichole?”
“A single mom. Her son’s name is Wesley.” Now it was more important that Wesley liked Chase. Now his family was involved. “Nichole created a computer program and an investment firm wants to buy it.”
“She always was talented and very creative.” His mom’s smile bloomed. “I remember walking into the kitchen after she’d hidden the cookie jar with fresh peanut butter cookies inside. She wouldn’t let you have any until you had memorized the entire periodic table.”
Nichole’s methods had been rather cruel. Nichole had known peanut butter cookies were one of his favorites. Still, he’d managed to pass that particular chem test.
“I still can’t believe Nichole pretended you guys were only classmates, nothing more than acquaintances at school for all those years.” Ivy leaned against the kitchen counter, amazement staining her cheeks
