Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” Jake says, but his tone is a little too stiff. “So? Are we doing this, or what?”
I swallow hard. “Okay… Okay. Yeah. Let’s do this.”
“Great.” He gives the table a quick slap with his hands and stands up. “Peter didn’t seem to notice you weren’t wearing a ring. Otherwise, I figure he probably would’ve mentioned it. But we’ve got to fix that. Can you hop on a plane tomorrow? We need to go somewhere to pick out your ring.”
“What?” I ask. “I thought we were going to pretend to date first.”
“You’ll have the ring in case we run into Peter. You don’t wear it in front of our friends. Easy.”
“Easy,” I agree, sounding much less sure than him. “But Walker hasn’t ever flown.”
“Oh,” he says, then shrugs. “I can borrow the team’s private jet. He can cry all he wants. No big deal.”
“I’d rather he doesn’t cry if it’s all the same to you,” I say, a little tightly.
Jake nods slowly. “Good point. But the private jet will be quieter and a smoother ride. You can walk him around as much as you need or feed him when you want. He’ll be happy as a bug in a rug.”
“Okay, fine. But couldn’t we just order a ring online?”
Jake scowls at that. “My fake fiancée is not wearing an online wedding ring. Fuck that.” Then he grins. “Only the best for my fake girl.”
I work my lips to the side, trying not to smile too much at how this feels. One week, Caroline. You will tell this man he’s your baby's father in one week. Or sooner if the opportunity presents itself.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll go do some light packing for the trip.”
4
JAKE
When I stop the car on the tarmac, Caroline tries to get the gigantic baby bag out of the trunk. I take it from her and throw it over one shoulder. She gets Walker out of his car seat, which took me about forty-five minutes to get in after a lot of grunting, cursing, and even a little blood. Caroline seemed content to let me struggle with it while she went back and forth to the bed and breakfast a hundred times to gather more supplies.
Caroline is hardly five feet tall, with thick brown curls and a heart-shaped face. As a kid, I always had a crush on the school librarian, and Caroline is like that woman cranked up to one hundred. She even has the rotation of quirky glasses on-point. Today, she’s wearing jeans and a low-cut blouse that shows off her cleavage. I’m only a little sour as I occasionally sneak looks. There was a time when Caroline was more or less mine.
We had a loose arrangement where she was available and willing if I was in town during the offseason or between games. We kept it all very quiet and never asked each other questions about exclusivity or anything like that. I would’ve been too embarrassed to admit to her that I was always exclusive when we were fooling around. It just never felt right to hook up with other women, even if we hadn’t put a label on what we were doing.
At some point, I guess I even let myself stupidly believe she felt the same way. Imagine my shock when she turned up pregnant and insisted it was from some guy nobody had ever met. Worse, the asshole didn’t even stick around to help her with the baby.
“He really needs this much stuff?” I ask, adjusting the bag on my arm. “It’s like you packed for a doomsday scenario, not a day trip to Manhattan.”
“He’s a baby, Jake. The only thing predictable about them is that you can’t predict a thing. So you prepare for every possibility. Explosive poops. Projectile vomit. Ear protection. Bandaids, sweaters, blankies, mittens, hats, pacifiers, lovies, bottles, formula, and–”
I grin. “Okay. Point taken. Babies are terrible, and I should never consider having one of my own. Got it.”
She makes a sour face, even though I only wanted to lighten the mood.
“I mean, he’s fine,” I say, giving the little guy in his car seat a look. “Is it normal for them to be so… bald?”
Caroline’s sour face looks fully venomous now. I have to admit I’m just fucking with her a little, even if it’s very unwise. The kid is honestly pretty cute. If you’re into small, helpless humans, that is. I can’t say I’ve ever seen what all the fuss was about. Kids are what you create when you’re ready to give up on your own dreams and aspirations in life. They’re for passing torches, and I’m not ready to pass any fucking torches. Not as long as I can help it.
“I’m starting to think I may want a fake divorce,” Caroline says.
“We’d have to get fake married for that. I think you mean you want to call off the fake wedding.”