THIRTY MINUTES BEFORE the end of the school day and the start of her car pool duties, Nichole pulled into Chase’s driveway. She stared at the three-story Mediterranean-style villa hidden behind a pair of lush olive trees. Chase lived in one of the most sought-after districts in the city within easy walking distance of the best the city offered, including bay views. Nichole rented an unremarkable two-bedroom in a dull duplex tucked away in a modest part of town. Nichole and Wesley relied on their bus passes to travel around the city most days.
But today wasn’t typical. She turned off her sedan. The four-door car outdated Wesley by a decade, tallied more than one hundred and fifty thousand miles and boasted several completed cross-country road trips. Not the luxury town car Chase was most likely accustomed to. Her rattleship as Wesley called it wouldn’t become the image booster for Chase. Neither would Nichole.
Why had she agreed to their pseudo marriage? Opposites do not attract. No scientific evidence existed to support the theory. Nichole and Chase were about as opposite as possible. Now she had to come up with a suitable explanation for Wesley. I’m helping out an old friend was the best she’d devised.
Nichole walked up the stairs to the main entrance and rang the bell. The door swung open. Chase stood in an unbuttoned dress shirt. His wrinkled tie hung loose around his shoulders. He looked disheveled and dashing and drew her in like a magnetic field. She said, “I’m guessing your grandmother didn’t take the news well.”
“My mother and sisters were there too.” Chase opened the door wider and motioned her inside. “They were thrilled I married you.”
“But,” she pressed. No area rugs softened her footsteps on the worn hardwood floors, nothing dulled the racing pulse buzzing in her ears.
“They have to be invited to my next marriage and be included in the wedding planning.” Chase shut the door and walked barefoot past her.
“You’re getting married again?” Nichole skipped her gaze from the fitted white T-shirt under his dress shirt to his bare feet and back again. Opposites do not attract. She ran her hand across the microfiber couch in a familiar red wine color rather than reach for Chase and conduct her own experiment on the outdated opposites attract theory.
“Definitely not on the agenda, but don’t tell them that, please,” he said. “What about you?”
“What about me?” I’m definitely not interested in you. Not like that. Her hand stilled on the couch as if he’d caught her reading his personal files.
“Do you want to get married for real?” He moved closer, his gaze serious. His tone thoughtful.
“I did.” I could. Nichole blinked, disconnected her old daydreams and blamed Josie. Had Nichole not put on the stunning wedding gown or carried a bouquet of her favorite flowers or stood inside Chase’s embrace, she’d never have imagined again. That old whimsy caught her, and she whispered, “Once upon a time.”
“And now?” His voice softened to a murmur. His gaze warmed as if he too saw her in the wedding gown. As if he too imagined.
Stop. She unplugged the illusion. Willed her racing heart to quit. She needed to be convincing. “I have other priorities.” Her son. In A Pinch. Helping her grandparents retire. Never getting her heart broken again.
Chase clutched the ends of his tie as if centering himself. “One of which is Wesley.” He checked the time. “We don’t want to be late.”
“I’ve mastered the car line.” She hadn’t mastered what to tell Wesley. Or how to tell him. Or how to protect her son. “We still have time.”
Chase motioned to his suit pants and started for the staircase. “Make yourself at home while I change. I’ll be fast.”
Nichole wandered into the kitchen, away from her ill-timed thoughts. The appliances looked a decade older than the dated ones in her rental. The cabinets might’ve been circa 1930s but the layered paint on the cabinet doors obscured the wood. The kitchen wasn’t restored vintage charm or modern and sleek. And nothing she expected Chase Jacobs to own. The Chase Jacobs portrayed in the media should have a high-end bachelor pad that converted to a swanky nightclub in the evening. Every extravagant toy from a speedboat to a 4Runner to a snowmobile in his garage. Yet she’d glimpsed the tailgate of an older truck on her way to the stairs.
One lone placemat sat at the head of the oval kitchen table. Nichole skirted the table and drab eating nook and moved into the connecting sunroom. A floral-patterned couch was the only foliage in the room aside from several small pots of herbs sitting on a TV tray—the kind she hadn’t seen since she’d been about six. The bright space begged for a potted palm tree or a fountain. She picked up several CDs from one of the many stacks towering on the floor. Her mouth dropped open.
Not CDs, but audiobooks. Nichole flipped through one stack. Everything from classic literature to biographies to current fiction filled the pile.
“Those aren’t mine.” Chase’s deep voice came from behind her, defensive and guarded.
Nichole spun around, still holding an audiobook, and swallowed her apology for snooping. “You have a roommate?”
“Never. I’ve always lived alone.” Chase bent down, straightened one of the stacks and avoided looking at her. “They belong to an old girlfriend.”
Nichole read the title of the audiobook she held. “Your ex liked to learn about how to build the supreme male body.”
Chase rubbed his chin. “What can I say? She had rather eclectic tastes.”
And Chase had secrets. Ones he refused to share with her. That shouldn’t bother her. Business deals were never personal. Emotions were always excluded. Yet the slight needled her. She set the audiobook next to the herb plants. “Did your ex grow herbs too?”
“Those are mine.” Chase checked the soil in one pot, affection in his tone. “Can’t cook without fresh herbs.”
The man before her was somewhat of a contradiction. She never liked those much. Always wanted to reason through the different layers and make sense of every inconsistency.
The boy she’d known had despised reading. Claimed literature belonged to the select few who could understand it. The man she fake married, the one she knew from the endless media stories, wasn’t sprawled out on a sofa, listening to Homer’s Odyssey, waiting for his fresh herbs to grow. That man was mingling with fans, devising new escapades and winning over the public. “You cook often?”
“As often as I can.” Chase carried one of the herb plants to the kitchen sink.
She walked back through the kitchen into the living room and stared at the stained glass windows framing the fireplace. The original glasswork attempted to stand out despite the deterioration around the rest of the house. The same way Chase stood out. Except now, Nichole questioned who he really was.
“Why haven’t you fixed this place up?” Even Nichole, the least qualified DIY-er in the state, could see the potential. Envision the possibilities.
“I don’t own this place.” Chase sat on the couch and tied his running shoes. “I rent it.”
“You rent?” Nichole rolled her lips together too late. The shock already bounced against the scratched hardwood floors.
“It’s not that much of a surprise.” Chase stood up.
“The details of your current football contract are public.” From his signing bonus to his earnings. His endorsement deals were not public. However, she could name four commercial products she’d seen him in campaign ads for. Chase could buy any home he wanted, including this one. He could also buy any image he wanted.
“I bought my mom a house.” He walked into the kitchen and pulled two bottles of water from the refrigerator.
Nichole moved to the kitchen table, glanced at the floral-patterned couch on the sun porch and remembered. How many times had she sat beside Chase at the oak table? The couch had been off-limits to food, pets and teenagers. “Then you took your mom’s furniture.”
“She wanted all new furniture for her new home.” Chase ran his palm over the scratched kitchen table. “This stuff is great. Still usable. I wasn’t throwing it out.”
His fingers lingered over a particular notch in the table. His face relaxed as if the history comforted him. Nichole turned around, scanned the living room, recognized even more from his family’s home. “You have all your mom’s original furniture, don’t you?”
“It fits perfectly for what I need.” He folded a hand towel and slid it over the handlebar on the oven.
But he could have a chef’s kitchen. Eight-burner stainless steel range. Double ovens. Modern leather sofas. Glass coffee table. He should have that. The headline-making Chase Jacobs certainly had that house. Not this. An outdated unit with used furniture that looked more like a college apartment than an all-pro football player’s home.
“You don’t like my place?” A playful note swerved into his voice.
“It’s not what I expected,” she hedged. Chase was not who she’d expected. Despite his mother’s cozy furniture, a loneliness filled the space. “It’s sparse.”
“What did you expect? A house that doubles as a nightclub?” Again, that tease swayed through his words.
“Yes,” she admitted. That would have made more sense. That wouldn’t have made her curious about him. That wouldn’t have made her wonder what else he might be sentimental about.
“I have all the essentials.” Chase indicated the counter. One plate, a fork and a single cup rested in the steel wire dish rack. “Everything I need.”
“You’re living like a college student on a slim budget.” She’d lived that life for too many years. Microwavable soup for dinner and scrounging together enough quarters for one load of laundry. Her paycheck from her library attendant job would arrive, but the money would’ve already been spent. Until she’d earned her degree and accepted her first and only teaching assistant job in graduate school. She’d gotten a raise and met the professor she’d believed she’d share her life with.
It was too late when she’d discovered his contradictions were not so easily overlooked.
“Don’t underestimate the merits of a good dorm room.” Chase set his hands on his hips and grinned. “The dorm room is like a tiny house in a building of other tiny houses. And a built-in entertainment center. There was always something fun going on in our dorm.”
Nichole laughed—the good kind, not the nervous or awkward or forced kind. The kind of laughter that rolled from deep inside and speared delight into every cell inside her. Chase had always been able to make her laugh. Even when she thought she couldn’t. Finally, she found a real connection between the man standing before her and the boy she once knew. Nichole relaxed, settling back into the comfortable friends-only zone.
Chase rubbed his hands together. “I’m ready to take on the car line.”
Nichole chuckled and followed Chase to the front door. “It’s not that bad.”
“Should we practice what we’re going to tell Wesley?” Chase locked his front door.
That conversation could be bad, or at the very least, awkward. “Can we give him the truth? We’re two old friends helping each other out.”
“What about the marriage piece?” Chase opened her car door and walked around to the passenger side.
“You’re supposedly married, but no one knows it’s to me.” As it should be. She buckled her seat belt and started her car.
“Except my family, your friends and the Fund Infusion guys.” Chase slipped on a pair of sunglasses and drummed his fingers on the center console.
“You think the press is going to figure out it’s me in that photograph,” Nichole guessed. She had no experience with the media. Chase had achieved expert status. She wanted to hope he was wrong. Wanted to ignore her gut that agreed with Chase.
“In case I didn’t tell you before, I never contacted the press.” Chase pulled out his cell phone and typed on the screen. “The media wasn’t part of my need-to-know category.”
“I’m going with the waiter or busboy.” Nichole’s need-to-know category had consisted of two people: Vick Ingram and Glenn Hill. Then she’d fabricated a story for her best friends. And she feared how much larger her need-to-know category would become. “It’s a pretty bad picture. Maybe the press won’t identify me.” Nichole pinched off that bud of hope.
Hope and wishes were a waste of energy and time. Time that could be spent actively working toward achieving a goal. Nichole had done nothing that morning to help the sale of her app. She’d have to work into the night to keep up with her schedule.
“Local news reporter Vanessa Ryan has located one of our high school yearbooks.” Irritation fueled Chase’s tone.
“That’s not a problem.” Nichole relaxed her grip on the steering wheel. She had more time before the press identified her and more time to enhance In A Pinch to ensure Vick and Glenn couldn’t say no. “The media won’t put us together from an old yearbook.”
Chase and Nichole hadn’t interacted much at school on purpose. Chase had wanted to preserve his popular status and Nichole had wanted the same for herself. She hadn’t wanted her advisors or peers to ever question her dedication to her studies or her judgment. She hadn’t wanted her future derailed by a boy. And falling for a boy like Chase could’ve done that and more. She’d graduated top of her class, gained a full-ride scholarship and earned her freedom from a small town that only ever referred to her as that tall, smart girl. As if she’d had nothing more to offer than in-depth class notes and the ability to reach the chemistry beakers from the top shelf.
“You always were too good for me,” Chase said. “Back then and even now.”
“Thanks for that.” Nichole stopped at a red light. “But we both know the truth.”
“Which is what?” His voice lowered as if guarded.
“You’re at your best surrounded by people. You’re at your best on center stage.” Nichole frowned.
Chase was more like her parents than Nicole ever could be. He wouldn’t have been banned to live with her grandparents had he been their son. What would her parents think of her now? Claiming to be married to a famous athlete and still struggling to conquer her stage fright. Surely by now she should’ve grown beyond her fears.
She peered at Chase. He took up the entire passenger seat, and where his body didn’t touch, his confidence took over. “I prefer the backstage role and less people.”
“So, the press won’t connect us because we’re too different.” Chase nodded, and his usual sideways grin dropped into place. He leaned on the console and wiggled his eyebrows at her. “What about that saying—opposites attract?”
“Be serious.” Nichole pushed him back into his seat, pressed on the gas pedal and stalled her own impulse to close the distance between them. She’d earned immunity from his ever-present charisma years ago. She wouldn’t fall for it—or him—now. “This was never about attraction. This was about closing our business deals.”
She hadn’t pushed him far enough away. She still felt his regard. Don’t look. Drive. Don’t look.
Another red light stopped their progress. Silence squeezed into the car like a crowd at the bus stop. And Nichole looked.
One of his eyebrows lifted, the slightest flinch. His intense gaze dropped to her mouth. Only a quick dip. Quick enough she rolled her lips together. Recalled their kiss. In remarkable detail. Before he focused again on her eyes.
Was that attraction in his gaze? Interest? No. This was charming Chase. She was plain Nichole. Still she fidgeted, tugged on the suddenly too tight seat belt. The city rarely had a heat wave. But she wanted to roll down every window and turn the AC to full blast. Was she attracted to him? She wanted another kiss... Just to test her theory. Prove she was right. No attraction existed. Impossible thoughts solved nothing. Actions mattered. Nichole leaned toward him.
A car horn blasted behind them. Then another. Nichole jerked away, grabbed the steering wheel and what was left of her common sense. She sped through a yellow light, vowing not to waste another red light or minute on the improbable. Kissing Chase proved nothing.
Four green lights in a row kept Nichole’s concentration on the road. Finally, the school came into view. Nichole turned into the car line. A familiar man, his usual bow tie in place, waved at her and motioned her into a front row parking space.
“What’s happening?” Chase looked outside the window. “I thought car lines were moving. Is this usual?”
“Never. I have no idea what’s going on.” Nichole turned off the engine and climbed out of the car. Had something happened to Wesley? She reached for her phone. Why hadn’t the school office called? Why was Mr. Burton, the school principal wanting her to park?
Chase rounded the front of the car and met Nichole on the sidewalk. He stood beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched, as if he understood her alarm, yet wasn’t quite certain how to help.
Mr. Burton hurried toward them, his bow tie tilted. His gaze swept from Nichole to Chase and back. “Ms. Moore, we had a bit of an incident today.”
What was a bit? If Mr. Burton was involved, surely that implied more than a minor mishap. Where was Wesley? “You’re just telling me about this now. Why?”
Mr. Burton rubbed his chin, his gaze got stuck on Chase like a fervent fan’s. He seemed unable to believe his idol actually existed. “It’s just that...”
“Hey Dad!” At the entrance of the school, Wesley managed a wave that lifted his feet off the ground. His grin splintered across his entire face. He yelled again. “Hey Mom!”
Nicole swayed and would have given in to her buckling knees if not for Chase’s supportive hand on her lower back. Surely, she’d misheard. No one had openly recognized her in that photograph. Certainly, a bunch of schoolkids weren’t interested in Chase Jacobs’s marital status. Her knees wobbled.
Mr. Burton sighed, almost as loud as Wesley’s greeting. He lifted his hand toward several staff members as if reassuring them all was well now. Or perhaps he was holding them off for the moment. The staff members already had their phones out.
Across the parking lot, parents pointed. Teachers huddled together. Then recognition flared, rocketing across the crowd. As if on cue, everyone produced their cell phones.
Wesley sprinted away from his two best friends and raced toward Chase and Nichole.
Before Nichole could fling open the car doors and order everyone to safety, Wesley reached them and launched himself into Chase’s arms for a full hug.
“Ms. Moore, call me tomorrow and I can explain.” Mr. Burton smiled at Chase and Wesley. Tenderness reached from his gaze to his voice. He touched Chase’s shoulder and nodded as if offering his approval and support. The principal added, “Right now, I’m going to get the car line moving.”
Nichole wanted to get moving too. Wesley had yet to release his hold on Chase.
“I can call you Dad, can’t I?” Wesley’s whisper fell far short of a whisper.
Chase’s gaze collided with Nichole’s, his bewildered and stunned. But in the corner of his mouth, there was a gentle weak quiver as if he was touched by Wesley’s unexpected question.
Or maybe that was only Nichole wanting to see what she needed to see. That Chase wouldn’t hurt her son. But she’d done this before. Saw what she’d wanted in someone else and not the truth. That careless error had broken her heart and left her a single mom, determined to love her child better than two parents. “No, you may not call Chase Dad.”
“Why not?” Wesley released Chase and rounded on Nichole. “You’re married now. That makes Chase my dad.”
Nichole tried to gather Chase and Wesley, herd them back toward the car. A crowd had gathered on the stairs outside the school. The car line barely moved. Cell phones were aimed in their direction from every angle.
A gaggle of kids approached. Wesley’s two best friends separated from the rest: a redheaded boy, Ben Sawyer, and a blonde curly-haired girl, Ella Callahan. Ella gripped Ben’s elbow and kept her walking stick extended. Ben leaned his head toward her as if giving her a rundown of the unfolding scene. Ella nodded every other minute, her face intent.
“I told Mr. Burton I wasn’t lying today in his office.” Wesley adjusted his backpack and scanned the onlookers. “I knew it was you, Mom, in that photograph with Chase.”
“How long were you in the principal’s office?” Nichole slapped a hand to her forehead. For one blurry picture, she certainly was recognizable. First Brooke and now Wesley. The press wouldn’t be far behind.
“It doesn’t matter.” Wesley waved at a trio of boys across the parking lot, a smirk on his face. “Now Tyler Mills knows I wasn’t lying. That’s all that really matters.”
Except Nichole and Chase were lying. To everyone. And that mattered very much. Nichole shifted her stance, but the guilt never dislodged.
Chase stepped beside Wesley. “Do I need to talk to Tyler?”
Absolutely not. He was a fake parent. Nichole always protected her own son and hadn’t requested Chase’s interference. She had to get inside her car. Had to get home. Maybe then her world would right itself and she could think reasonably clearly again.
Wesley rubbed his hand under his nose and grinned at Chase. “That’s cool, but it’s all good now.”
Except it was far from good. It was bad. So very bad. Admiration sparked in Wesley’s gaze more and more vivid every time he glanced at Chase. He even edged closer and closer into Chase’s side and farther away from Nichole.
“They want pictures with you.” Wesley motioned toward the growing crowd. “I might have sort of promised.”
Nichole cringed. No more pictures. Pictures got Chase and Nichole in trouble.
Chase’s arm bolted up and he waved the crowd over. Once again, he never even considered the consequences.
Ella and Ben joined Wesley and Chase. Ben hopped from one foot to the other. “We can help too. My dad is going to be so bummed he missed car line today.”
Nichole wished they had missed car line too.
A line formed of kids first, then parents followed. Then teachers stepped in. All the while Chase shook hands, laughed and greeted every stranger like a friend. Every picture, every interaction seemed to energize Chase even more. He never tired, never lost his patience. Never appeared anything but genuinely thrilled to meet each person.
Wesley and Ben took the photographs, Ella asked names and called out the correct spellings for anything Chase autographed. All the while Nichole acknowledged parents she knew only from car line and slipped farther into the background. Chase never noticed. Never turned to check on her. He simply surrounded himself with his fans as if they were all he needed. And Nichole took careful notes.
Chase and she belonged in two different worlds. She couldn’t afford to lose sight of that fact. If she hurt now, so much the better. The twinge at his disregard in a crowded parking lot was a bee sting compared to the full body misery of a broken heart.
Finally, car line ended, and the teachers returned to their classrooms to finish their workday. Everyone climbed into Nichole’s car and they gained some privacy. Two stops later, Ella and Ben were dropped off and Wesley scooted into the center seat.
“This is so cool.” Excitement colored Wesley’s voice. “Ben has Kyle Quinn as his uncle. Chase, you’ve heard of Kyle Quinn the inventor, right?”
“Yes, I’ve heard of him.” Chase looked back at Wesley. “We haven’t officially met.”
“I can introduce you,” Wesley offered.
“Kyle is engaged to Ava,” Nichole explained. “Ava is Ben’s aunt.”
“Their engagement is old news, Mom. That’s why Ben has Kyle.” Wesley waved gleefully at someone they passed on the street.
“Ella’s grandmother is Mayor Harrington.” Her son rambled on, his voice gained traction and his enthusiasm spilled out. “Now I have Chase Jacobs. Everyone has someone famous to call theirs.”
As if it was a game of tag and they were picking teams. Nichole had a solid team with Wesley and her friends. Chase had his own team. The rules were already set. Wesley couldn’t claim Chase. Neither could Nichole, even if she wanted to. Opposites did not attract. Besides, Chase couldn’t offer anything that Nichole couldn’t provide for herself and Wesley.
Nichole eyed Wesley in the rearview mirror. “You think someone as famous as Chase married someone like me?”
“Of course.” Wesley never hesitated.
Nichole smiled and appreciated his team loyalty. Her son hadn’t completely abandoned her for team Chase.
“The surprise is your mom marrying someone like me.” Chase twisted to look at Wesley. “Your mom is too good for a guy like me.”
Chase couldn’t really believe that. He was making the statement for Wesley’s benefit and hers. She peeked at Chase. His usual grin wasn’t in place to tease away his claim. His expression was thoughtful and serious. How could he believe Nichole was too good for him? She was a single mom, unemployed and a developer of an app no one wanted to buy. He was the Chase Jacobs—charismatic, talented and celebrated.
Wesley slid forward and popped his head between the front seats. His excitement bounced from his smile to his voice. “How long have you guys known each other?”
“Since high school,” Nichole said. Even then, their differences had stood out.
Wesley’s mouth dropped open. “You never told me that.”
Nichole shrugged. “It never came up.”
“Is that why you watch every Pioneers game?” Wesley’s fingers drummed an animated beat against the seat. “Why you wear your special jersey and Pioneers socks on Pioneers’ game days?”
“I’m a fan. There’s nothing wrong with supporting my team.” Nichole kept her gaze fixed on the license plate of the car in front of her. Specific socks and a specific jersey had been Chase’s ritual before every high school and college football game. Nichole had adopted the habit for reasons she couldn’t explain now. “There are a lot of Pioneers’ fans out there who do the same thing each game day for good luck.”
“Is it also good luck because you wear Chase’s number?” Wesley asked.
Chase shifted and cleared his throat. Still, she heard his muffled laughter.
Nichole stared straight ahead, willing the light to turn green. The heat burning her cheeks spread up into her ears. Did Chase think she was a silly superstitious fan girl now?
“I have a secret,” Chase offered.
Wesley popped between the seats again, shifting closer to Chase.
“Your mom was my tutor in high school,” Chase said.
Very few people had known about their arrangement back then. Chase had passed his classes. As for Nichole, she’d gotten out of the farmhouse a few times every week and alleviated her grandparents’ concern. They’d been worried Nichole had missed all her potential high school fun spending too much time studying in her room. They’d met Chase and believed she’d discovered a social life.
“She’s supersmart. She helps me too,” Wesley said. “What subjects?”
Chase slanted a wry grin at Nichole. “All of them.”
“Cool.” Wesley flopped back into his seat.
If only everyone could’ve been as receptive back then. But there were those unwritten social rules of high school. Neither Chase nor Nichole had wanted to break them. Nichole had believed she wouldn’t be taken seriously if she’d been seen with Chase. Ironic that now Nichole knew Chase was the reason the Fund Infusion gentlemen treated their meeting seriously. After all, they’d requested a second meeting on a night that Chase could attend.
“Have you guys been talking in secret?” Wesley rushed on before Nichole or Chase could answer. “Ella, she’s the one with the walking stick and one of my best friends. Anyway, she said because Chase is famous you couldn’t tell anyone, even me. So, you had to put on disguises and make up stories to see each other in secret. Like when you dressed up as the school mascot, Mom. Remember that? You had to put on the Roadrunner costume.”
Chase covered his mouth and glanced out the passenger window.
Nichole cleared her throat. Twice. She’d been the only parent tall enough to wear the costume and march in the school parade. She could explain or keep silent.
Wesley seemed oblivious to Nichole’s silence and continued on, “Last Christmas, I told everyone what I got them for Christmas. I did the same thing for Ella’s and Ben’s birthdays too.” Wesley chuckled to himself. “I’m really bad at keeping secrets so that’s why you couldn’t tell me. Mom is really good at secrets. You must be too, Chase. ’Cause it was all one big secret, wasn’t it?”
Chase smiled. “Something like that.”
“This is so cool,” Wesley blurted. “Chase Jacobs, the best quarterback ever, is my dad. And I don’t have to keep it a secret.”
Nichole flexed her fingers on the steering wheel. She’d need more fingers soon to count all the secrets piling up. And she’d need more than hands to heft her guilt.
What happened when the truth came out? Wesley was going to be crushed. One hour with Chase and Wesley was hooked. Wesley had referred to Chase as his dad a second time. What happened if it became a habit? Nichole’s stomach rolled, twisting around the secrets, the guilt and her fears.
She’d been diligent about filling the void of no father in Wesley’s life. Had she failed? Should she try harder? Chase had mentioned nothing about wanting to be a father, not in any interview, not even in college or high school. He’d rarely talked about his own father. Always laughed off engagement rumors during press conferences. Now he had a fake marriage and pretend stepson. What had he been thinking?
Nichole had thought nothing through. Now it was an avalanche about to consume her. Once she sold her app, she’d have money. Surely money would solve everything this time. This time she was in control. She’d earned her success on her own. Wesley’s biological dad had believed money solved any problem. He’d wanted to convince Nichole the same thing. She’d taken his money, faced more problems alone and carried her broken heart like a badge. She turned into her driveway and rolled over the past to focus on the present.
Wesley gathered his backpack. “When are we moving into Chase’s place?”
Nichole stumbled and braced her hand against her car. Even more details she never considered. Their home wasn’t as large as Chase’s, but it wasn’t as empty either. Joint living had never been part of their agreement. Nicole liked her home she shared with Wesley. Chase preferred his solitude and no roommates. End of discussion.
Wesley unlocked the front door and glanced at Chase. “Your place has to be better and bigger than our little house.”
Chase stepped inside and looked around. “I like your home.”
“But your house is bigger, isn’t it?” Wesley pressed. As if bigger always equaled better.
“It’s being remodeled,” Chase said. “So, you’ll have to wait to see it until the construction crew clears out.”
Or until the pretend divorce occurred and visiting Chase’s place no longer became an option.
Wesley dumped his backpack in the entryway and raced into the kitchen. “Who wants popcorn?”
“Hey, I... I should’ve mentioned this earlier.” Chase picked up Wesley’s soccer ball and held it between his hands. “Is there any chance you might be able to take a trip?”
Disrupt her schedule. Adjust her to-do list. Not possible. Days off were carefully selected and arranged in advance, according to her budget and calendar. She never did anything on impulse and whim. Except fake marry Chase and the results of her one uncharacteristic move had become more than complicated. Nichole dropped the mail on the side table and studied Chase. “Why?”
“I might’ve told my family we were going on a ski-moon.” He squeezed the soccer ball as if he’d stepped in to coach the team and now had to defend his qualifications. “I did tell them that.”
“A what?” Nichole asked.
“They wanted to plan a party for us this weekend. Travis wants to plan a reception.” Chase tapped the soccer ball against his head. “It was the only thing I could come up with on the fly.”
“What is it?”
“Basically, a ski trip to Tahoe.” Chase peered at her over the soccer ball. A cringe creasing his eyes.
“We’re going to Tahoe!” Wesley cheered in the doorway to the kitchen and knocked popcorn onto the floor from the bowl he was clutching.
Something knocked inside Nichole, spinning her even more out of control. She whispered, “This wasn’t part of the arrangement.”
“I know.” Chase sighed. “I panicked.”
Now Nichole panicked. Chase wanted to take her to Tahoe. They’d stay in the same house. They’d be together. She could discover the real Chase. Or test her attraction. Her nerves tingled. Anticipation or anxiety, she didn’t know.
She did know that she could not go to Tahoe. Not with Chase. A ski-moon sounded too much like a honeymoon. She shouldn’t be tempted. First, she wore a wedding gown and saw herself as a bride. Now she saw herself pretending to be married in Tahoe. With Chase. This was what happened when she didn’t follow her plan, stick to her schedule. Chaos ensued.
“Can Ben come too?” Wesley buried his hand in the popcorn bowl. “He loves the snow more than me.”
“Works for me. Invite Ben’s parents, too.” Chase propped the soccer ball against his hip, natural and easy as if he belonged in their house. As if he’d always been in their lives. Always planned their vacations.
But Chase had only just arrived. Barely been invited into Nichole’s world. The one she controlled. That was it—she had to take control.
Chase added, “It can be a family getaway weekend.”
No. It could not. They weren’t family. Nichole muted the buzz in her heart and silenced the part of her that wished. That still hoped for a complete family and love. Love? She had no wish to love and find herself set aside. Displaced and forgotten as if her love never mattered. Nichole pressed her hand against her core, pulled herself together, opened her mouth.
“I have to go pack!” Wesley shouted first, and dropped the popcorn bowl on the coffee table. “There’s so much I have to remember to bring.”
“Wait. Time-out.” Nichole raised her hands and regained her focus. Her sharp voice cut into her son’s celebration. “You have homework to finish right now. Then school tomorrow.”
“So, no Tahoe?” Disappointment crushed Wesley’s eyebrows together. “No fun in the snow?”
“Let me call Brooke and Dan.” Let me think. Let me develop an action plan. Give me more time. Nichole rubbed the back of her neck. Tahoe was a bad idea. “It’s spring break next week. Maybe we can go up there this Friday.” She looked at Chase. Another bad idea. Her heart tapped against her chest. “Friday works, right?”
“Definitely.” Chase high-fived Wesley. “Fun in the snow is a go.”
Wesley whooped and raced away.
Nichole collapsed onto the couch and vowed she’d made her very last misstep. Tomorrow she’d get back on schedule. Back on track with the life she’d already planned.