The Faker: A Marriage of Convenience Hockey Romance (Boston Hawks Hockey) by Gina Azzi (ink ebook reader .TXT) 📗

him. I place mine down so I can rest my left hand over the right side of my chest. Slowly, I rotate my shoulder. The loud popping and clicking sounds ring out in the quiet space and James winces.

“Physio? Treatments?”

“I’ve pretty much run the gamut. Look, I’m going to be thirty-eight. I’m getting too old for this and I know it. I’m not re-signing.”

James sits straight up in his chair, his eyes narrowed, his expression grim. After a moment, he scrapes his hand over his face. “Fuck.”

“I need to be realistic.”

“You had an incredible career.”

“It wasn’t awful,” I agree.

He gives me a lopsided smile, understanding and compassion in his eyes. No one wants to see a player go. When you do, it makes you start counting down how much time you have left. But for a guy like James, whose been through hell this year, playing hockey doesn’t hold the same weight it once did. “What does this have to do with marriage?”

I shrug. “It’s time, James. I need to start thinking about the next chapter of my life.”

“Okay. But this girl, Rielle—”

“She’s a good woman.”

“How well do you really know her?”

“Enough to know I could spend the rest of my life by her side and be happy.” Once the words are out, I realize the truth behind them. Rielle could make me happy forever; it’s me who can never make her light up like the sun.

James gives me a long, searching look. After a moment, he sighs, and I know that he knows there’s more to this than I’m willing to discuss. “Then why the long face?”

“It’s complicated.”

He chuckles and it’s the first time I’ve heard him almost-laugh in months that I look up, surprised. He shakes his head at me. “What do you need, Torst?”

“Well, now that you’re here, I’m not opposed to a little advice. You’re right, things with Ri happened fast. We don’t really know each other the way most couples do when they marry. But I know the parts that matter to me the most. I know the kind of woman she is.”

“And that’s great, man. But Torsten, marriage isn’t just some agreement you make for a few years. It’s a lifelong commitment. It’s sacred and special. You say vows.”

I swallow against the tightness in my throat. Heat spreads across the back of my neck. James would feel sorry for me if he knew that I said vows knowing I was going to break them. But God, I don’t want to. I’m desperate for even a shred of what James shared with Layla. I just have no clue how the hell to create that with a woman who has her whole life ahead of her, one who married me for all the wrong reasons.

Do Ri and I even stand a chance? Getting married for a green card and a loan buyout is clearly starting off on the wrong foot.

I uncap my water bottle and take a long swig. When I slam it back down on the dresser, James swears.

I look up and freeze. Because James, my old friend, is looking at me in pure disbelief.

“What?” I ask.

“Jesus, Torsten. You want this for real, don’t you? I thought it was some kind of midlife crisis. Some desperate attempt to fill some void, to deal with the weight of almost turning forty. But you want the whole thing, the vows and the marriage and the wife.”

Pins and needles travel up and down my limbs at the truth, the accusation, in James’s tone. I feel exposed in a way I never have before but after years of being on my own, with no one to count on or trust save for Farmor nearly 3,500 miles away, yeah, I fucking want it.

James leans back in his chair and rolls the water bottle between his hands. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“What day?”

“The day that Torsten Hansen truly wanted something more than one night only. Or, in this case, one month only.”

“Rielle is my wife, James.”

He nods, considering my words. “Do you trust her?”

“Yes.”

“Does she care about your best interests?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it all about the money or social status?”

I chuckle, remembering how Rielle wanted to pay half my rent. I never bothered to tell her I own the penthouse outright. There’s not even a mortgage. “Not at all.”

“Do you guys laugh when nothing’s funny? Do you enjoy her company?” He lifts an eyebrow at me.

Slowly, I nod.

He smiles back. “Then there’s hope for you yet. You don’t have to be madly, passionately in love, although that helps.” He tilts his head toward mine, his eyes serious. “You need to have the foundation of a friendship, the ability to communicate, and the desire to care. If you’re starting off with that, you may be able to grow a relationship that blossoms into the kind of love you’re searching for.”

I stare at him for a long moment, suddenly realizing just how much he, Milly, and Mason truly lost when Layla passed. “I don’t know if I’ll ever have even half of what you did with Layla. But fuck, James, I’m so sorry you lost her.”

He dips his head and a long beat passes. When he meets my eyes again, his are ringed in a sadness so acute, I feel it in my chest. “I hope you do, Torsten. As for me, I’m just grateful as fuck I got to have Layla for as long as I did.”

I nod, a lump of emotion swelling in my chest.

James stands from his chair. “Come on.” He clasps my shoulder. “We’ve got a game to win. Everything you’re twisted up over, and trust me, you’re going to have more days feeling like this, put it into your play. Turn off the thoughts eating at you, and channel everything you’re messed up over into your performance tonight. At least then, you’ll go to bed feeling better about something.”

I snicker, seeing the merit in his advice. I shoulder my bag and follow James out of the hotel room. As