TWO MORE MOVIE nights rounded out the week. One had been a given after both Chase and Nichole had agreed they couldn’t leave the fantasy trilogy unfinished. The second night had resulted from Chase’s confession that he hadn’t seen The Maltese Falcon and Nichole’s determination to resolve that oversight.
Between therapy sessions, visiting Nonna and Nichole’s work on her app, it had been go, go, go. Chase had even stepped in as a test user on In A Pinch. He’d also introduced Nichole to one of his local sponsors who wanted to become a vendor on her app. More than one kiss had been shared. But it was holding her hand, sitting beside her and simply being with Nichole that had enriched every day.
Chase parked his truck in Travis’s horseshoe-shaped driveway, grabbed Nichole’s hand and pressed a kiss against her knuckles. “If I failed to tell you before, you look terrific.”
“Thanks.” Nichole squeezed his fingers. “Why am I nervous? It’s only dinner.”
“With the man who negotiates my career.” Chase opened his door and laughed. “He’s no big deal.”
“That’s not helping.” Nichole shut her door and scowled at him.
Chase wrapped his arm around her waist. A motion that was becoming more and more natural. If Nichole was in a room, he wanted to be right beside her. Letting her go was quickly becoming less and less appealing. “Travis likes details as much as you. You’ll like him.”
Nichole stopped on the doorstep and turned to Chase. “Will he like me? Will he believe we’re married?”
“Of course.” Chase almost believed they were married. He should eject himself from the game. He’d stepped out of the neutral zone. And yet he kept running toward Nichole. He tipped her chin up and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “He’ll like you because I like you.” A lot.
But his feelings were nothing he couldn’t handle. Nothing he couldn’t control just as he controlled the plays on the field to help earn a win for his team. Besides, liking Nichole a lot was far from confessing to something stronger. Something deeper and terrifying, like loving Nichole.
Nichole set her hand on his chest, her voice confession soft. “I like you too.”
Time-out. Offside. Too many men on the field. Chase searched for a penalty flag. All he saw was Nichole. All he felt was her hand resting over his heart. She said the word like delicately and carefully as if the word deserved special handling. As if the word possessed more meaning. His pulse raced, loud enough for his own ears to listen. She liked him too. But they hadn’t agreed on that.
The front door swung open and Travis flung his arms wide. “Security cameras are a thing of beauty. Welcome and get in here. You’ve had more than enough private time. We can’t start the festivities without you both.”
“Festivities?” Chase frowned at Nichole and linked his fingers with hers. His pulse tripped over his sudden unease.
Travis greeted Nichole and ushered them through the foyer and massive great room. An expansive outdoor living area spread from the patio doors toward an infinity edge pool. The view would’ve been spectacular if not for the crowd gathered outside.
Nichole’s hand clenched his. Chase’s steps slowed. His words came out measured and deliberate. “Travis? What’s going on?”
Travis nudged them onto the patio and shouted, “They’re here. Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs have finally arrived!”
The one hundred or more guests cheered and yelled, “Surprise!”
Nichole gasped. Chase swallowed and searched for his smile.
At the front of the crowd, Mallory and Brooke high-fived each other. Mallory pointed at them. “We did it. We surprised you both.”
Brooke pressed champagne glasses into their hands and announced, “Happy wedding reception.”
Wedding reception. This was only supposed to be a simple dinner to discuss publicity and appearances as a couple. Later, Nichole and Chase would’ve added their own private discussion: their breakup plans to the conversation. Chase lifted his glass, greeting Elliot and his teammates, several offensive coaches. He anchored his smile into place and willed his cheeks to relax. The Pioneers’ owners, Charles and Claire Faulkner, and the team’s general manager, Keith Romero, waved from the opposite side of the pool.
Nichole’s friends descended from the outdoor bar and kitchen area, wrapping Nichole and Chase in enthusiastic hugs. For the first time ever, Chase had no interest in being the life of the party. He wanted to tug Nichole through the side gate and disappear. Before he could anchor Nichole to his side and plot their escape, his sisters swept her away.
“Before you follow your new bride, and I don’t blame you, can I have a word?” The amused voice stalled Chase’s own retreat.
He turned and took in the linebacker-sized man eyeing him, his thick hand outstretched. Except he wasn’t any player Chase had ever faced on the field. “Have we met? I’d remember you.”
“I get that a lot.” The man shook Chase’s hand. “We spoke on the phone. I’m Drew Harrington.”
“I should’ve known.” Chase grinned and enjoyed having to tilt his head to look into Drew’s eyes. It was rare he encountered someone taller than him who wasn’t playing for the opposing team. “The press hasn’t exaggerated your presence. And I’m suddenly glad we never met on the football field.”
Drew laughed. The sound, genuine and natural, transformed his entire face from imposing to teddy-bear approachable. “I have to agree.”
Chase followed Drew away from the crowd. Drew rubbed his hand over his short beard and glanced at Chase. “I would’ve called sooner, but I’m waiting on one more contact to get back to me.”
Chase scanned the crowd, spotted Nichole surrounded by his family and her friends on the far end of the patio. “Is Fund Infusion legit?”
“It’s a real, functioning company.” Drew frowned and studied the deck as if he’d stepped in a red ant hill. “If Nichole had any other product, I’d let her sign a contract with them.”
Chase straightened, suddenly more alert, and eyed the former DA. “What’s wrong with her app?”
“Fund Infusion already represents Nichole’s biggest competitor in the market.” Drew lifted both eyebrows and allowed Chase to fill in the rest.
Like a serious conflict of interest. Glenn and Vick wanted In A Pinch but most likely not to launch it nationwide. “She could still take the deal and the money. Build a different app.”
“She could.” Drew accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. His voice remained noncommittal.
“Except she’s already worked years on this program. It’s personal to her. She believes in her product.” Chase scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Killing it would be like destroying a part of herself.”
“We’re looking too serious and drawing attention.” Drew tapped his glass against Chase’s and smiled. “I’ll put together my findings and you can tell Nichole.”
“Why me?” Chase forced his smile wider. Nichole and Chase’s deal had been until both contracts were signed. Now he was going to ruin her deal with Fund Infusion and there’d be no contract to finalize. He’d have his contract signed, his life reclaimed on the football field and his freedom. Nichole would have bad press from their sudden fake divorce and an app that never launched. The last of his optimism deflated inside him, lowering his shoulders. Regret seeped in.
“I don’t envy you.” Drew drank his champagne and shuddered. “I never could handle disappointing a woman. Something about their tears always gets to me.”
This was about much more than tears. This was Nichole’s future. And Chase had promised to protect her. He had given his word to her grandparents. His gut clenched as if wanting to be wrong. “Thanks, Drew. Wish I could say it was good to know my intuition was still sharp.”
“Hey, at least she’ll have you to lean on.” Drew set his palm on Chase’s shoulder, supportive and encouraging. “Bad news is always better with someone you love beside you.”
Love. The word lodged in Chase’s throat like an elbow thrust to his windpipe. If he’d loved Nichole, he’d never have fake married her. Never have convinced her of the brilliance of his plan. Never have entwined her in his world of schemes and slanted press. If he’d loved her, he would’ve walked away.
“Looks like you’re wanted.” Drew angled his chin toward the tables situated near the beach entrance of the pool.
Nonna sat at one of the rectangular tables and motioned to him. The Pioneers’ general manager, Keith Romero, and Travis talked to her. From her position at the head of the table and her regal bearing, Nonna appeared to control the conversation and every decision being made. Perhaps he should’ve requested she join Travis for his contract negotiations. His grandmother could be a formidable opponent or valuable ally. Chase shook Drew’s hand, thanked him again and headed toward his grandmother.
Nonna removed her glasses—something she only ever did when she wanted to see a situation clearly, or so she always claimed. A thread of apprehension trailed through Chase. He intercepted Nichole on his route, wrapped his arm around her waist, suddenly needing her by his side. “Having fun?”
“Would you be surprised if I said yes?” Her arm curved around his waist and she leaned into him.
He’d miss that connection—simple yet so very settling. He said, “I like your friends.”
“Your teammates are funny and kind.” Nichole grinned; delight colored her voice. “Your sisters and I already have lunch scheduled for next week.”
“If your schedule is open, you can join Nonna and me for lunch.” Chase leaned over and kissed his grandmother’s cheek. The tension creasing around her eyes wrenched Chase’s calm, knocking his composure askew. He shook Keith’s hand, worked the kinks of worry out of his words. “My grandmother and I haven’t missed our weekly lunch in over two years.”
“It’s quite the streak.” Nonna patted the seat beside her and smiled at Nichole. “Sit, my dear.”
Chase dropped into the chair beside Nichole, noted Nonna’s slight toward him and pushed his shoulders down against the unease.
“But it seems all streaks must be broken.” Nonna touched her ear as if signaling Chase to listen well. Her mild tone rendered her voice all the more grim. “The surgery on your shoulder and neck will certainly disrupt our weekly lunch plans.”
Surgery. Chase froze in the chair, wouldn’t have been surprised to watch his body wilt onto the deck. Now he understood that phrase, world crumbling. Understood how it felt: numbing and disorienting. And him: powerless.
“So, it’s true.” Travis rocked back in his chair, betrayal thick in his voice.
Keith shook his head. Anger lit his dark gaze.
“Chase.” Alarm rattled Nichole’s voice.
He locked onto her and stumbled over the pieces of his broken future. Guilt paled her skin. “Who...who told you?” Who did she tell?
“Mallory and I were talking...” She wavered, became soundless. She cleared her throat. “Mallory assumed you’d told me.”
“You never corrected her.” Bitterness seeped into his tone.
“You should’ve told me,” she countered brusquely, as if she were the injured party. As if she had the right.
“Why? So, you could tell my agent, my coach, the rest of my family? Ruin my life.” His anger rolled toward fury. “Wait. You already did that.”
She flinched. Her voice never trembled. “I was only trying to protect you.”
“Why?” He lashed out. “You aren’t even my real wife.”
Their audience gasped. Or perhaps that was the shocked cry of his mom. Or Mallory’s sharp inhale. Anything decent left inside Chase shriveled and faded. His career was most likely over and he’d exposed their deceit. Thrust Nichole into the lion’s den without protection. He really was a bad guy—selfish and cruel. She deserved so much better than him.
“You’re right. I’m not your real wife.” She shot up and out of the chair, rigid and proud. Her gaze uncompromising and resolute. “I’m only the woman who loved you before all this. And the woman who loves you now, faults and everything included.”
She couldn’t love him. He barely even liked himself. A chill rooted into his core; ice-coated vines extended the incessant cold to every part of his body. His voice, even to his own ears, sounded frigid and detached. “This was all a farce. One elaborate lie.”
Elliot’s deep curse rumbled through Chase. Travis closed his eyes, his hand curled into a fist on the table. Ivy pressed her hand over her mouth; her gaze skidded away from him. Disappointment, so much disappointment, flowed from his family and friends. Betrayal, not warmth, poured from the outdoor propane heaters around the patio. And Chase flatlined to a new low. A new rock bottom. He’d betrayed them all. Betrayed those he’d loved the most.
The handful of reporters Chase had noted mingling within the crowd swooped in, alert for the unfolding drama.
“Was it?” Nichole’s gaze never wavered.
Chase rose and kept his focus on her. Only her. Don’t love me. Please. Don’t. Love. Me. “Yes. One big publicity stunt like I always do. It was only ever about me.”
But it could’ve been about us. If he was any other man. A better man. The kind of man she deserved.
His words aimed true. The illusion shattered. Sadness cracked through her gaze. Her shoulders stiffened. Her chin tilted up. She turned, set her diamond ring on the table. “My sincere apologies, gentlemen.” She shifted again. “Nonna.”
Only then did her voice crack. Only then did something splinter inside his own chest. If he recognized his heart, he’d have considered it broken. But that would’ve meant he’d fallen in love too. Impossible.
Nichole walked away, linked her arm through Brooke’s and never looked back.
Chase sidelined his own pain. Sidelined his concern for Nichole and his regret. They’d always planned to break up. Their plan was never supposed to be long-term. That chill overtook him. He’d been cold after his father had left. Empty and cold. Now the chill was sharper. More biting. The emptiness even more stark. Chase was more like his father than even he could’ve ever imagined. And it appeared the son had become the father after all.
He buried his heart and embraced the incessant cold and the man he’d always feared he was. Then he faced the table and focused on the only thing he knew: damage control to save himself.