Julia Connors, Author Facebook ad: “NEW Hockey Romance FREE in Kindle Unlimited!”

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“What if we got married?” The suggestion is out of my mouth before the thought even fully forms in my head. Holy crap. I did not just say that. She freezes, then pulls back, looking up at me with her eyebrows raised into high peaks above her swollen eyes. Head tilting, she coughs out a laugh. “What?” I swallow so deeply I can feel the muscles ripple along my neck, and I watch her eyes track the movement before her gaze returns to my face. And even though I didn’t intend to suggest marriage, even though I didn’t think it through before making that offer, now that it’s out there—the one thing I’ve always wanted but thought I could never have—I don’t want to take it back. “Think about it, Evie,” I say, bringing my hands up to cup her shoulders. “It could be a mutually beneficial solution to both of our problems.” “How so?” The fact that she didn’t laugh in my face and say, “you flatter yourself,” has to be a good sign, right? She didn’t push me away or immediately put up barriers, like she normally does the moment she senses us inching beyond “just friends.” “Well, if we got married, and then told everyone we were expecting a baby together, I think both our families would be thrilled. Plus, once the world knows about your pregnancy, it would make your change in the routine at the last competition more explicable, and fans would finally lose interest in you and Christopher being a couple. Plus, it would help explain my performance in Game 7.” Her eyes widen the slightest bit as she gazes up at me, and that’s when I realize I’ve said too much. Now she has to know that the way I played that night was because I was worried sick about her. And now if she says yes, it’s probably going to be out of guilt. “So you’d be painted as the father-to-be who was distraught when he found out the mother of his child was rushed to the hospital,” she says slowly, working out the story we could tell. “I’d be painted as someone who pushed herself too hard, given my condition, because I didn’t want to let my partner down.” I nod. “Mutually beneficial. No one needs to know how and why you got pregnant, and you wouldn’t need to worry about insurance or childcare or anything else, really. I’ll take care of you, Evie. Besides, our parents will be thrilled. Mine have been itching for grandchildren for years. Yours might still have concerns about your skating career and next year’s Olympics, but if they thought this baby was ours, conceived after years of friendship that grew into something more . . .” I say as my fingertips slide across her shoulders and up the sides of her neck so I can cup her jaw in my hands. “I don’t think anyone would question it.” Her cheeks push up as she smiles and lets out a bubbly laugh. “No, I agree. We could probably convince everyone that this is our love child.” I’m about to ask her if it’s because the two of us are so good at making people believe our ridiculous stories, or if it’s because our friends and family have always wondered whether there’s more to our friendship than we’ve ever admitted, when she says, “But I feel like I’d be taking advantage of you.” “How so?” I run my thumbs along her cheekbones as I try to figure out why she looks sad all of a sudden. “Because what do I bring to this marriage? You provide me with healthcare, and I live here with you. You make it so that I don’t have to admit how I really got pregnant, which gives me cover from the fans who would otherwise suspect I had cheated on Christopher. Instead of looking like an irresponsible harlot, I’m a woman in a secret relationship with her best friend, not with her skating partner like everyone thought. My dad will be thrilled, and hopefully my mom will be a little less mad than she would’ve been otherwise. Aside from still having to figure out how to train and compete, this solves all my problems. What do you get out of it?”

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