Chapter 14

chapter fourteen

Grant

The saccharine taste of powdered sugar lingered on my tongue for the remainder of the day, long after we left the bakery.

I told myself it was because I fucking love sweets, but that's a lie. It's because I wanted to taste Addie instead.

We both had class early this morning, so after work at the bakery, we headed to campus, and I haven't seen her since.

I had classes, weight training, and then a meeting with Jeremy that went surprisingly better than I anticipated.

He's not entirely happy that I got married without any warning when he had no idea I was even in a relationship, but he is happy that this could help turn my image around with potential sponsors and help close the deal we've been working on. He agreed that, at minimum, me being in a seemingly long-term relationship couldn't hurt.

Works for me.

"Addie?" I call out as I walk into the apartment, shutting the front door with my foot while attempting to balance a stack of pizza boxes in my hands.

"In here," I hear quietly from the living room. When I walk through the door, I see her cuddled up in the armchair in the corner of the room. She's wrapped up in a thick, oversized, dark pink cardigan with her sketchbook open on her lap. Auggie is snoring steadily in the plush dog bed next to the chair.

Her gaze lifts to mine, and those blue eyes widen as they drop to the pizza boxes in my hands. "Hi. Um… Are you having people over?"

Laughing, I shake my head as I set the boxes down on the coffee table. "Nope. I just wanted to bring home dinner because I figured you'd be hungry, and I remembered you liked veggie, but didn't know if that included supreme, and other kinds? So, I just got… a lot of them."

"You could have just texted me." She laughs. "Instead of… bringing home five pizzas?"

Admittedly, that would've been the smarter thing to do, but I didn't know if she was studying or sketching, and I didn't want to bother her after she's had such a long day.

Plus, Jack's Pizza never lasts long around here. It'll get eaten, eventually.

I shrug, a grin tilting on my lips. Leaving her with the pizza, I walk into the kitchen and grab two plates, bottles of water, and a few napkins, carrying them back to the living room.

"Thank you," she says, closing her sketchbook and putting it on the small end table. "For being thoughtful and bringing dinner. I was starving but was also too tired to cook or go anywhere, so I was honestly just planning on skipping dinner tonight." She wrinkles her nose in that adorable way that makes me want to kiss it.

"Sorry, ArtGirl, no skipping dinners in the Bergeron household. I'm a growing boy. And since you are a Bergeron now, that includes you ."

Her cheeks flame, but that sweet smile appears on her lush lips, causing my own grin to widen. "Okay. Got it. No skipping meals for Bergerons."

After she chooses her pizza, the veggie one, I load four slices of pepperoni onto my plate and flop down onto the couch.

"I'm surprised you didn't get pineapple," she muses. I glance over at her, my brow raised in surprise, and see the grin she's trying to hide behind her hand.

She remembered how much I fucking hate pineapple pizza, and she's teasing me.

I don't know why the fact that she remembered surprises me, in a good way, because it's not like I've forgotten a single conversation we shared back then. I can't help but like that she remembers these details about me. Like the conversations were as important to her as they were to me.

"No blasphemy in this house, please," I groan gruffly before taking a bite of my pizza to hide my grin. "But ordering dinner made me think. If we're going to be living together, ArtGirl, we've gotta learn the basics. You know? Things that make coexisting easier, things a husband would know about his wife… Like your favorite kind of pizza so I don't get five next time."

"Veggie, always." She giggles and shrugs. "But honestly, I'll eat most types of pizza. Besides pineapple, that is."

My lips curve into a grin when I hear the light, teasing tone in her velvety voice. After another bite, I mumble, "Good to know."

For a moment, comfortable silence settles around us as we eat, but I soon break it with a question that I've been wondering ever since I walked in tonight.

I nod toward her sketchbook on the end table beside us and ask, "What were you working on? When I got here."

"Oh, uh… just something for my art thesis project. It's nothing, really." She ducks her head, lowering her gaze to the pizza in her lap.

"Can I see?"

Her head whips up, and her gaze meets mine, her brow arching in surprise, "You want to see my art?"

"Yeah. I mean, if you'd be okay showing it to me?" I say hopefully.

I've only seen a few pieces of hers so far, including the canvas from her room the other night, but I want to see more. I feel like her art is part of the Addie puzzle, of knowing her better. And I want to know her. I want to learn everything about her, especially the parts of her she keeps hidden. I want her to trust me enough to share those pieces.

"It's probably… stupid and not very good," she mutters sheepishly.

My brow furrows, and I sit up, setting the plate down on the coffee table in front of me to give her all of my attention. "Addie, do you really not know how talented you are?"

Even in the dim light of the lamp, I can see the telltale pink flush of her cheeks traveling down to her neck, despite the fact that she's desperately trying to hide it by wrapping her sweater more securely around her.

"Show me. Please?"

For a moment, she stays put, her wild blue eyes holding mine while she chews her lip, silently debating something, but then finally, she nods and reaches for the sketchbook, flipping it open to the most recent page.

There's a tremble in her hand when she turns it to face me, and I hate that she's so nervous to share her talent, that she's not more confident in herself. She should be, and I want to tell her over and over until she believes me.

The page is still mostly blank, aside from a half-drawn portrait of a woman that resembles her. The girl has the same elegant slope of her nose, the same pouty lips, the same delicate features. The drawing is amazing, but even as talented as Addie is, she doesn't quite capture on paper how beautiful she is.

Or maybe she just doesn't see herself the way that the world does. The way I do.

"You think this is stupid ?" Disbelief laces my words as my gaze shifts to her.

It's anything but stupid. It's fucking extraordinary.

"It's just… It's a rough sketch. A verrrry rough sketch. I want to finish it in painting once I get the full idea down. Right now, I feel like I'm just feeling my way around in the dark and throwing stuff against the wall and praying that something sticks."

"If this is your definition of a rough sketch, I can't imagine what it will look like when it's finished, Addie. Holy shit ," I mutter, dragging my attention from the drawing back to her.

Her throat swallows roughly before she slams the sketchbook closed and tucks it against her lap hastily, like the positive attention is too much for her. She tucks a loose strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. "Thank you. I'll have to show you when it's finally done. Whenever that may be."

My mind is still blown that this girl truly believes that her art isn't incredible, and I vow here and now to make it my life fucking goal to convince her otherwise. Has no one ever told her how incredible she is?

"Can I help?"

She shakes her head. "No, I don't think so, but if I need help, I'll let you know." Pausing, she picks up her phone on the arm of the chair and glances at the time before shifting her gaze back to me. "Ugh. Three a.m. is going to come entirely too early. I guess I should head to bed."

Auggie lifts his head from where he settled on the couch next to me, his ears perking up at the mention of bed. I swear, he naps more than a toddler but is also the chillest dog I've ever met.

"Auggie and I are going on our first jog tomorrow, so he's gonna need to be very well rested. Big guy's got a lot of calories to burn," I tease, pausing to shift my gaze to Addie. "And… I was thinking, we're going to need to go out soon. So we can be seen together. But we probably should practice? You know, before we really take things public. Make sure you're comfortable."

"Okay. Uh… I think that's great. I'm ready when you are."

I've been ready.

I nearly choke on my own spit when I walk through the front door the following morning and find Addie folded over like a pretzel in the middle of the living room.

She's got her hands flat on the mat in front of her, with her ass perched high in the air as she listens along to some guided meditation thing on the TV.

And I'm pretty sure I've forgotten how to breathe, or think, or no… fucking both .

The tight purple leggings she's wearing are molded to the curves of her hips and ass. Somehow, I summon willpower that I never knew I possessed and drag my gaze from her and shift it to Auggie, who's still panting from our run at my feet.

Think about fat corgis. Think about Auggie, Grant.

About how you had to carry his cute but heavy ass for the whole last mile because he'd decided he had enough of your shit and promptly plopped down like a sack of potatoes in the middle of the street, refusing to move another inch. It was the laziest tantrum ever.

Don't think about your new wife in those tight pants, or how flexible she is, or how you would sacrifice just about anything to see what other ways she can ben?—

"Grant?"

My head snaps up, eyes landing on her pink parted lips as she calls my name. My gaze follows a rivulet of sweat that languidly drops from her neck to the center of her chest, trailing lower and lower before disappearing between her sports bra–covered cleavage.

I bite back a groan. I'm getting hard just watching her fucking sweat. I've got to get my damn shit together.

"What's up?" I reply casually, lifting my shirt to wipe sweat from my brow. "Didn't know you did yoga."

When I drop my T-shirt, I see her wide eyes, and a shit-eating grin lifts my lips. I love that I affect her as much as she clearly affects me.

"Careful, ArtGirl. People might think you're checking out your husband."

I'm teasing her simply to see her flush my favorite shade of pink, which she does immediately, averting her gaze and turning toward her mat. She begins rolling it up. "Yes, I love yoga. I try to do it at least three times a week. Usually if I have time before class after leaving the bakery. I find it centers me. Have you ever done it before?"

I shake my head. "Nah, but… maybe I should. Actually, it looks very bendy ."

If it means I get to watch her bending like that again, consider me the next yoga master.

"You should try it. I've heard of a lot of athletes using it to strengthen their core and to improve flexibility. It's supposed to help prevent injuries."

Before I can respond, there's a hard knock at the front door, dragging both of our attention toward it.

Auggie's pointy white ears perk up for a millisecond before he decides that it's not worth leaving his spot to investigate, instead laying his head back down on the floor, eying us warily.

"I'll get it," I say, walking over to the door and wrenching it open.

When I see Davis on the other side, my eyes narrow. "Are we just showing up uninvited now? That what we're doing?"

He reaches up and pushes the dark hoodie off his head, then shrugs, his signature shit-eating grin present per usual. "I was in the neighborhood, figured I'd stop by. See what was up since you haven't responded to my texts. All ten of them."

True, I didn't text back. But also, I'm calling bullshit. He lives in the dorms, and let's be real, he's only here because, if I had to guess, knowing him the way that I do, he couldn't last another second without coming over to find out whatever he could about Addie. Obviously, the thirty minutes he was around her at our wedding wasn't enough to get his fill.

I'm not saying he's the equivalent of a hormonal teenage girl, but I'm also not… not saying that.

Sighing, I lift my arm and open the door wider so he can step through. Even though I'd much rather shut it on his face and let him sit out there, I know I'm not getting rid of him that easily.

He's persistent if nothing else.

He ducks beneath my arm and brushes past me into the apartment, and I slam it closed behind him with a little more force than intended.

"Hey, Addie. We didn't have a chance to really talk the other day, but I'm Davis, Grant's bestie ," he says as he crosses the living room to Addie. "Welcome to the family."

I can't hear what her response is because he reaches out and drags her against his chest in a hug so tight that it makes me want to rip his arms off and beat him with them.

Yeah, he can't ever touch her again.

And trust me, I realize that's a little fucking much, but I… just don't like him touching her. Or talking to her. Or even looking at her, for that matter. Considering he's one of my closest friends these days, I probably shouldn't be so irrationally jealous. But here we are anyway.

A problem for later since he's still hugging her, and that's long enough.

"Hands off, Davis," I growl in annoyance.

I'm truly having a Jekyll and Hyde moment, and I'm not sure how the fuck I'm supposed to feel about it.

His gaze whips to mine, and he smirks knowingly before shrugging and stepping back from her.

"Nice to see you again," Addie says with a small smile.

"Not sure you'll be saying that after you get to know him," I mumble.

Chuckling, Davis walks over to the couch and flops down on the cushions, spreading his arms along the back. "So, how's married life treating you lovebirds?"

Yeah… I kind of didn't tell him anything about our arrangement.

As in that it's fake. I wasn't sure what Addie would be comfortable with, and I don't really trust him not to keep secrets. So, I told him that when we reconnected that day in the park, we realized that we're madly in love and didn't want to wait another second to get married.

He believed me, so clearly, it was convincing enough. Plus, dude was practically giddy that he had a role in helping us reconnect that he probably would have believed anything. Now, we just have to convince everyone else that it was love at first sight that led us to acting impulsively.

"It's… great," Addie says shyly. "Even better than I imagined it could be."

Thatta girl.

"Grant's the best guy I know, and I'm happy for you two. I'm assuming this means that you'll be in the stands this season, cheering our guy on?" he asks.

She nods. "Um… Yes? I've actually never been… to a baseball game. Or any kind of game, for that matter."

Holy shit. ArtGirl really is anti-sports.

Kind of ironic that now she's married to a baseball player who's entered the draft.

"Damn, girl. Well, perfect timing. Your husband's gonna have all eyes on him this season. Scouts from all over the country now that they know he's entering the draft in June."

Mention of the upcoming draft has a feeling of unease churning in the pit of my stomach. I'm nervous as fuck that even after all of the work I've put in, I still won't make it. I haven't really told anyone about my fears, but it's been weighing more heavily on me with every passing day.

There's a chance I won't get drafted. A big possibility, and if so, I'm not sure what the future holds for me. Baseball is the only thing I've had my sights on since I was a freshman in high school, and until recently, I never really let myself imagine a world where it didn't happen.

I've spent the last fifteen years with tunnel vision, and now that it's closing in, I'm facing the sobering reality that it might not happen for me.

Unlike some of my teammates, baseball hasn't always come easily. I'm not as naturally talented as Reese and Lane are, and I'm self-aware enough to know that. I always had to work harder at it than most guys, had to practice more than others to reach the level I'm at now. I've known that since I started at OU as a redshirt freshman, and I've had to put in twice the work to prove myself just to show my coach I deserve to be on the starting lineup.

I'm not saying I'm talentless. I wouldn't be playing for a D1 college if I wasn't skilled. I just know that the vast majority of college players never make the big leagues, and if I want to be drafted come June, I've got to bust my ass and be at the very top of my game.

Addie's sweet voice breaks through my thoughts, saving me from going too far in my head. "That's amazing, Grant. Congratulations. I bet you're going to get drafted to the best team."

Laughing, I walk over and slide my arm around her shoulder, tugging her gently to my side. A primal side of me wants to erase Davis's touch from her. She tenses for only a moment before relaxing against me. Her wide, blue eyes dance as she stares up at me. "Thank you, ArtGirl. We'll see what happens. But… until then, I've gotta bust my ass and put in the work. I've got a long way to go."

"Yeah, we're going to be unstoppable this year. Watch," Davis proclaims. The side of his lip curls into a grin when Auggie saunters over to the couch and hops into his lap. "Yo, this dog is actually so fucking cute." He pats Auggie's head and offers him a scratch behind his ear.

"That is Augustus. But he prefers to go by Auggie," I tell him.

"Him's so cute. Who's the goodest boy? You are. Yes you are, aren't you?" Davis coos saccharinely, causing Addie to bury her face into my shirt and giggle.

He continues to prove my point of how ridiculous he is. At all times.

"As much as I don't want to leave this little guy, I gotta split. I've got a…" He trails off, glancing at Addie before clearing his throat. " Date tonight. I'll come back and visit Auggie soon, but I was thinking we all go out soon? Celebrate? Maybe the Redlight? We haven't been there in a while."

I mean… It's not a terrible idea. We actually have to be around other people in order to convince them that this marriage is real. Maybe after tonight, she'll be more comfortable acting married.

"Yeah, maybe. We'll talk about it, and I'll let you know for sure later," I say as he pushes to his feet, much to Auggie's dismay.

He nods. "Sounds good. See you tomorrow at the gym. Later, lovebirds ."

Once he's gone, my attention shifts to Addie, who's chewing the corner of her lip, lost in thought. I drop my arm from her shoulder and walk over to the coffee table in front of her and sit.

"I know you're probably not interested in going to a party… or a bar, and honestly, neither am I. I haven't been in a party mood in a while."

She nods. "It's not my thing, but if it's something you really wanted to do, then I'd be okay with it?"

"Nah. But maybe this is the perfect time to… practice? Not something like a stupid party with Davis, but maybe we could just spend some time together and practice before we do something more public? Not a party."

Her lip curves upward as she smirks. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

She nods with a hint of shyness shining in her bright blue eyes.

Now, I just have to plan the perfect fake date for my fake wife.