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

to fall for his easygoing charm and big heart. I keep holding myself back because I already know that when we divorce, it will gut me. But what if it never comes to that? What if Torsten and I find a way to make our marriage real? What if he wants what I want?

I shoot him a grin and turn back to the table. Claire’s eyebrows are up in her hairline and Indy’s mouth has dropped open. “Birthday shots!” I remind everyone, shifting the attention back to the reason we’re all here.

It works and in the next minute, we’re cheersing to Torsten’s good health and tossing back tequila. It burns and warms on the way down and I snuggle back up against Torsten’s body, realizing there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

We stay at Taps for another hour, everyone laughing and joking and celebrating the birthday boy. But since the Hawks have a game tomorrow, Austin claps his hands and calls the night early. On her way out the door, Claire turns to glance at me over her shoulder. She holds her hand to her ear in the symbol of a phone and shakes it, letting me know she knows that kiss was for real, and we are most definitely going to talk about it.

I grin and nod at her, feeling too giddy to be ashamed.

Torsten slips his hand in mine and links our fingers together as we leave Taps and walk to his car. Even after we’re away from prying eyes, he holds my hand and a warm thrill shoots through me.

We drive back to his place and he glances at me from the corner of his eye. “You have fun tonight?”

I nod. “Happy birthday, Torst.”

“I’m an old man, Ri.”

“You’re a sexy man,” I tell him, taking a big step out on the limb I’m desperate to run across.

He licks his lips, a cocky smirk glancing off his mouth. “You think I’m sexy?”

I snort, turning to glance out the window so he won’t see me blush.

We park at his building and take the elevator up to the penthouse. When we cross the threshold, I hold up one finger. “Hold up, I have something for you.” I dart to my room to retrieve the gift I bought him this morning. Even though it took a sizable chunk out of my photography course savings, I didn’t think twice about buying it.

When I enter the living room, his eyes widen as he takes in the wrapped present held between my hands.

“You got me a gift?” he asks the obvious and I nod, passing it to him.

“Happy birthday.”

“Sweetheart”—he turns the package over in his hands—“you didn’t have to do this, Ri.”

“You don’t even know what it is. You might hate it.”

He gives me a look and unwraps the present. He breathes in sharply as he studies the delicate cuff links. They’re hockey sticks, crossed at the center. Nothing fancy, just sterling silver, but when I saw them, they reminded me of him. “Rielle, you didn’t have to buy me anything. This, being with you right now on my birthday, is more than enough.”

I wave a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. I thought maybe you could wear them for your away games. Know I’m with you even if I’m not physically with you.”

“It’s not nothing. It’s thoughtful,” he murmurs, his eyes catching mine. “Thank you.” His voice is sincere and it warms my chest.

I smile and take a step closer.

He sets down my present and reaches onto the couch for something. “Close your eyes.”

“Wait, what?”

He lifts an eyebrow at me. “You promised.”

Yesterday’s conversation comes back to me and I laugh, closing my eyes like he requested.

“Hold out your hands.”

I do as he says, wondering what he’s up to.

He places something in my hands. It’s heavier than I expected.

“Open them.”

I open my eyes and glance down at a brand new DSLR camera. I gasp, “Torsten!”

He watches me closely. “Do you like it?”

“I love it. Are you crazy? This costs a—”

“Your photography course starts in a week. You need a camera for it.”

My mouth drops open. “This is too much,” I protest, trying to give the camera back to him.

He holds up his hands and shakes his head. “No way. You promised, babe. This is what I want for my birthday.”

“To give someone else a gift?” I ask, both overwhelmed by his generosity and so freaking touched by the thoughtfulness behind it.

“To see you do something you love,” he clarifies.

I place the camera down and step in between his thighs, where he’s seated on the armrest of the couch. Hesitantly, my hands lift and rest on the tops of his shoulders. “It’s still too much.”

“Trust me, the things I want for you…” He shakes his head. “This is nothing.”

“Torsten,” I murmur, unsure what I want to say next.

His hands find my hips and settle there. “That kiss at Taps, was it for real, Rielle?”

The moment of truth. I hesitate and his eyes begin to shudder closed.

“It was for real,” I rush to explain.

Torsten’s head snaps up and his eyes bore into mine, colored in hope and skepticism.

I wince at the mixed messages I’ve been sending, seeing the uncertainty in his gaze.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for weeks. Since before we even got married,” I admit, laughing lightly. But Torsten’s features are locked down. His hands grip me a little tighter but he doesn’t say anything so I continue. “I don’t know how to do this with you and not end up hurt or worse, hurting you,” I whisper, licking my bottom lip.

“You think me hurting would be worse than you hurting?” he murmurs.

I nod.

Torsten’s expression softens, the tenderness I recall from our first night together swelling in his eyes. It’s so honest, so brave, that I shuffle even closer.

His hand moves up my body, cupping my cheek. He stares into my eyes, and for a beat, we have an entire conversation without any words. It’s as if we’re standing on a cliff and we both know that if