Page 27 of Goal Line
“Like?”
“I don’t think the doctor’s office is the place to figure this out,” she says, glancing at the door. “Dr. Lowery probably wants us out of here so she can take her lunch break. Why don’t we go get something to eat, and then...we can think this through properly.”
“Hungry already?” I ask with a chuckle. She’d been eating lunch—a grilled chicken sandwich that was stuffed so full it had lettuce, tomato, cheese, and avocado hanging out the sides—when I got back to my place after my meeting with AJ. I’d made myself a quick protein shake, and I’m not even remotely hungry yet.
“I’mnevernot hungry. This little...” She trails off as she gazes down at her bare belly, and then looks up at me with a small smile. “...squash must be consuming every calorie I eat.”
“All right,” I say, bringing my hands to her sides, where her shirt is tucked into her bra, and pulling it down to cover her abdomen. “Let’s go feed you and Baby Squash.”
Chapter Thirteen
EVA
“It can’t possibly be this simple,” I say to Luke as he sets the bowl with his large salad on the coffee table. I glance over, noting how my half-eaten burger and empty fry container is a stark contrast to his salad. But I’m eating for two, and the doctor said I needed more protein and iron, so the burger felt like a good choice.
“Why not?” he asks, grabbing his root beer off the table. “We can easily sneak away and get married when we’re in Vegas next weekend for the NHL awards ceremony.”
“Our parents will be so disappointed if they’re not present when we get married.” I know our dads, especially, will be devastated. Luke’s like a son to my dad, and his parents are basically family to me. “What do we gain by not telling them our plan and letting them participate in it?”
“I think eloping is the most feasible option. If we let our parents know ahead of time, you know that our moms are going to want to plan a wedding. They’ll make it a wholething, and I think it’s just easier to sell our story if we get married first. If the goal is to get you on my health insurance as quickly as possible, then waiting while they throw together a wedding doesn’t help that.” He shrugs, talking like the idea of us getting married is the most natural thing in the world. Like it’s not everything I’ve ever wanted...butnotthe way I wanted it.
Being Luke Hartmann’s wife might be the ending I’ve dreamed of for our friendship, but being hisfake wifemight just become the hardest thing I’ll ever have to endure.
Luke is the standard I’ve always held other men up to...and no oneevermeasures up. If we’re married, he’ll be his normal, wonderful happy-go-lucky self, content with our friendship, while I’ll be wishing for way more. And given how my pregnancy hormones have me raring to go, day and night, I’m worried that I’ll be eyeing him like I can’t wait to devour him, and that will make it weird and uncomfortable for him.
“Yeah,” I say. “Plus, a real wedding would be awkward as hell, given that this is all fake.”
As hard as it may be to marry Luke and pretend I don’t have feelings for him, I think that walking down the aisle to him in front of our friends and family, knowing it doesn’t mean anything, could be the thing to actually break me.
He swallows and his whole neck convulses with the movement. “I think all successful marriages are rooted in friendship and ultimately become even deeper friendships,” he says, glancing out the floor-to-ceiling windows along the wall of the dining area, as he reaches over to set his root beer back on the coffee table. “Honestly, if I had to pick one person I was going to spend the rest of my life with”—helooks back at me, but his expression is unreadable—“it would be you, Evie.”
Now I’m the one swallowing down the lump rising in my throat. If hehadto pick...not if hegotto pick one person, but if he was forced to. That one word tells me everything I need to know.
“Am I forcing you into this?” I ask, and the words come out strangled with worry. But as he opens his mouth to respond, I rush on. “I mean, I knowyouwere the one who suggested it. But I don’t want you to hitch yourself to me just because you feel bad for me and want to help. I appreciate that you’re offering, but I...I worry that you’re going to resent this choice down the road, that you’re going to resent me and the baby?—”
My rambling is interrupted as he reaches out, wrapping one arm around my back, pulling me across the couch cushion, and depositing me in his lap. He engulfs me in his arms and holds my side against his chest. Dipping his head so his lips brush across the top of my head, he whispers, “Shut up, Evie.” His chest shakes against me, but I can’t tell if it’s his racing heart or silent laughter. “I could never resent you, or a child that is half you.”
“Maybe so,” I mumble against his T-shirt, wondering if I’m crazy to believe him. “But you may resent the situation. What if you meet someone else?”
“I won’t,” he says, without any hesitation.
I pull back, looking up at him. “How do you know that?”
“Because I’ll be married. And I’m not going to go looking for anything outside of our relationship.”
“What if...” I glance back down, wanting to ask about how we’ll each fulfill whatever sexual needs we have. I’msure it would be way too weird and awkward if we crossed that line with each other. No matter how many times I’ve pictured him while getting myself off, I know that’s a one-way street. How mortifying would it be if I brought it up and he just looked at me and said, “you flatter yourself”?
He tilts my chin up and his gaze roams across my face, assessing. “What ifwhat?”
“Nothing.” It’s way too embarrassing. I have an excellent sex toy collection; I just have to get it here from LA so I can satisfy myself when my hormones kick in. “I’m sure there will be lots of things we’ll have to figure out as we go. Like, for example, when are we going to get my stuff from LA and move it here?”
“We can head to LA and pack you up after Vegas. Didn’t you say you had a commercial to film for an endorsement? Maybe we can time those together. What about your training?”
“I’ll have to work that out with Christopher,” I say, and I don’t miss the way his jaw clenches. I reach up and smooth my palm across it. “Hey, he’s my partner and one of my best friends. You’re going to have to get over whatever it is that you hate so much about him.”
He tries to look away, but I wrap my thumb under his chin and steer him back so he’s looking at me. Still, he says nothing.
“Whatisit you don’t like about him, anyway?” If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think Luke was jealous—but that makes no sense. Well, maybe it does, in the same way I’d be jealous if Luke had another best friend who was a girl. In fact, I’d be out of my mind with jealousy, even if I didn’t have feelings for him. I like knowing that, out of the dozens offriends he has, I’m hisbestfriend. There’s a possessive side of me that never wants to share him, or that title, with anyone else.
