Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Hudson

I dragged myself from the parking lot to my door, each step torture, and punched in the code. My thighs burned from the morning's brutal practice, but I'd blocked shot after shot and nailed drill after drill.

Whitney's door opened, and she popped her head into the hallway. The messy bun on top of her head wobbled, and she pushed her glasses up her nose.

Cute. I suppressed a grin, lest she think it was at her expense.

"Oh good. You're home. I'll…um…be right over." She disappeared.

I let myself into my apartment, dumped my duffel in the bedroom, and answered the tentative knock at the door. Whitney stepped in, clutching a file folder. A soft-looking black T-shirt printed with This is my writing shirt stretched enticingly across her full breasts and topped a pair of worn-in jeans. Sneakers completed clothing that looked like the definition of comfort .

I shut the door. "How do you feel?" Why are you here? My nerves tingled.

"My muscles are a little sore." She hugged the folder to her. "But I'm doing better."

"Good." I grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and raised it. "Want one?"

She shook her head.

I snagged a bottle of Advil and swallowed two tablets with half the water.

She frowned. "Rough practice?"

"My muscles are a little sore." I repeated her words. "Comes with the territory." I shrugged. "So." My heart thumped hard in my chest. "Have you made a decision?"

She raised her chin. "Before I reform a rake?—"

I drew my brows together. "What?"

She waved away my question. "Before I agree to repair your reputation, I need to know what happened the night that…"

Shame heated my cheeks. "That I got drunk, went to bed with two women, and had my picture plastered on social media?" I clenched my jaw. The incident still made me sick to my stomach.

"Well, yeah," she said, her voice soft. "That wasn't the Hudson Talbott I thought I knew. The man I'd looked up to."

I shook my head. "That wasn't typical of me. I'd never done anything like that before."

She frowned. "Then why did you do it?"

I blew out a long breath. "To explain, I have to back up to last year, when I found my fiancée and best-friend-slash-teammate in bed together. In our bed together." Her moans of pleasure as he plowed into her haunted me in my dreams. I raked a hand through my hair. "Fast-forward to that night when I lost my shit, I'd just found out that they'd become engaged."

She winced. "Ouch."

"I went out drinking and got plastered, which I'd never done. Not even in college. I don't even remember taking two women to a hotel room, and I don't know what happened there. But one of them took a picture of me in bed, passed out between them. I woke up the next day, alone, to find she'd posted the pic on social media. The scandal earned me a reprimand from Coach and the executive suite and tanked a sponsorship." I crossed my arms. "I've been trying to live it down ever since."

She narrowed her eyes. "Will you ever do that again?"

"I won't. I promise."

"Okay…" She rocked back and forth, foot to foot, biting her lip. Then she stood straight and squared her shoulders. "Let's do it." She nodded once with finality. "Let's get married."

Married. I nearly doubled over from the punch of reality to the gut. But I'd proposed this scheme, and I wasn't going back on my word. "Yes. Let's get married." I nodded, my voice strong and determined despite the chaotic swell of emotions within me. It was the right thing to do—for her insurance, and for my reputation.

She opened her file folder. "I wrote some terms and conditions." She handed me a sheaf of papers stapled together.

I raised my eyebrows and skimmed the top page. "Maybe we should sit for this discussion."

I followed her to the living room and settled in the middle of my leather sectional, placing the bottle of water on the coffee table. She sat at the end of the sectional, her ankles crossed, and adjusted the glasses on her nose. I bit back a chuckle and patted the cushion next to me. "C'mon now. You'll need to get used to me if we're going to pull this off. Might as well start now."

She licked her lips, hesitated, and shifted a few inches.

"Closer." I wanted her next to me, and I didn't want to examine the reason. It wasn't because of the lavender scent teasing my senses, or the way escaped locks of her chestnut hair fell to the tops of her breasts, or the way I wanted to tuck her beneath my arm and protect her from seizures. No, none of that. I simply wanted to talk without having to raise my voice.

I almost believed my lies.

She moved near enough that her warmth seeped into my side, and satisfaction nestled within me.

She opened the file folder again and pulled out a copy of the papers in my hands. "Number one. The wedding. We have to get married within the next few days because I'm running out of my prescription."

The next few days? My palms grew damp, and I wiped them on my jeans. Shit just got real.

"But I think we should make this look as real as possible for Gramps. So I'll find a wedding dress off the rack. You can wear your best suit, and we'll get married at the wedding chapel at the County Clerk's Office. It's easy. We can apply for a marriage license online. We'll invite Gramps, and we can pull it off as soon as we can work out the schedule."

A wedding. My heart raced and my stomach clenched.

"Number two. A prenup," she said with a finality that left no room for debate. "In California, spouses split marital property equally in a divorce. But I don't want your money, and I don't want to share my royalties. We can write out a standard prenup at 101lawyer.com."

I frowned. "When are we getting divorced?"

"That's number three. We'll stay married until my medicine is generic. Hopefully, that will be in the next two years. So, you won't have to worry about me after we divorce. You'll be free, and I'll move to Virginia."

My gut clenched, though I didn't understand why. "You're moving to Virginia?"

She nodded. "That was my plan as soon as my lease expired. My grandmother needs help on her farm, and we only have each other."

I understood her need to take care of her grandmother. We had that in common, and I liked that about her. I would do everything I could to facilitate her move when the time came. It was only fair.

I turned to the next page. "Number four. Living arrangements." I scanned the paragraph and shook my head. "No, this won't work. We have to live together. In the same apartment." My gaze found hers. "And sleep in the same bed."

Her cheeks colored. "What? No!"

"Yes. Gramps visits me every week, and he'll know if we're not sleeping in the same bed."

Her mouth dropped open. "The same bed? Why can't I keep my apartment and come over when Gramps is here?"

"Because all of your stuff has to be in my apartment. Your office has to be set up in my second bedroom. Your toiletries will have to be sitting on my bathroom counter. Your clothes hanging in my closet."

She frowned. "If I set up my office in your spare bedroom, then why can't I put a futon in it and sleep there?"

I shook my head. "I already have a Bowflex in there."

Her posture drooped and she bit her lip. "What am I supposed to do with my apartment? The furniture that doesn't fit in your place? My bed?"

I drew my brows together. "When is your lease up?"

"Four months."

"We'll put everything in storage and sublease your apartment." Her face fell, but I wasn't an asshole. "If you'd rather, we can put my stuff into storage. But I have a king-size bed, and I'd like to keep that."

She humphed . "Okay. But if we're going to sleep in the same bed, then do you expect sex?"

I winked. "I wouldn't say no."

She crossed her arms. "I don't do casual sex. My partner has to mean something to me."

I frowned. "What do you mean by ‘mean something'?"

Her hands dropped to her lap, and she wrung them together. "Well…I should at least be…fond of my partner. And he should reciprocate. And since you've stated that you're never falling in love again…"

I ground my teeth. "Got it."

"But no matter what, I expect you to remain faithful."

I scowled. "You don't know me well enough yet, but that…night…was out of character for me." Shame heated my chest. "I won't be doing that again. Ever. Being faithful to you goes without saying."

She crossed her arms. "Same."

"But we're going to table the sex discussion for now and move on." I picked up the papers. "Number five. Fake relationship." I read out loud, " We'll fake a loving relationship in front of Gramps, Grandma, friends, and teammates and confide in no one. " I nodded. "I can agree with that. We don't want to be accused of insurance fraud. Does the fake relationship include PDA?"

She nodded quickly, her eyes wide. "It has to, don't you think?" Her gaze dropped to my mouth.

I grinned, and she blushed and turned back to the papers. "I think that's about it. The rest are minor details." She tapped her lips. "I'll have to revise some points, now that I know we'll be living together. "

"What day are we getting married? I have games tomorrow and Thursday. Does Wednesday work?"

She nodded. "We can fill out the marriage license application online. Let me see if I can book the chapel for that afternoon." She pulled out her phone and navigated to the proper web page. "Shoot. It's not available."

"Can you wait until Friday? I'm free then."

She shook her head. "I need my medicine before then." Her gaze grew unfocused before snapping back to mine. "We could get married this afternoon."

My heart tripped. "What? How?"

"At the Express Marriage Window. If we do that, you can add me to your insurance within hours, and I can buy my next prescription for just forty dollars. But we'd have to hurry before the County Clerk-Recorder's Office closes. Can you apply for the license? I'll text you the info you need."

I nodded, and we exchanged phone numbers.

"I'll take care of the prenup. Give me an hour and a half, and I'll be ready." She gathered her papers and folder.

I frowned. "I won't have time to pick up Gramps."

Her expression softened. "Do you really want him to see us get married at the Express Marriage Window?"

My shoulder slumped. "I guess not. But we'll have to come up with an excuse for not inviting him."

She placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry. This isn't ideal. But we'll make it work."

She checked the time on her phone. "Pick me up at 3:30."

Holy shit. I was getting married in mere hours.