Travis’s voice was grim. “You can’t avoid the team doctors much longer, Chase.”
“I’m not avoiding them.” How many times could he stretch the truth in one conversation? He must have reached his own personal record. Chase loosened his smile into easy and relaxed like his carefree tone. “I’ve been a little distracted with my new wife.”
Elliot chuckled beside him.
Travis remained still, from his stiff arm braced on the light bulb–framed mirror to his subdued expression. The lack of movement intensified Travis’s voice, ensuring there would be no misheard words. No misunderstanding. No distractions. “This isn’t like the last contract negotiation. The last negotiation, you had no injury and your stats obscured your off-field antics.”
“I have better stats now than when I started playing. I’m repairing my off-field reputation. Check the social media likes. My approval rating is climbing,” Chase countered. Unfortunately, he did not have the same healthy shoulder. Or his youth. “As for my shoulder, I’ll be ready to play by the preseason opener.”
Travis nodded and held out his hand.
Chase reached out and shook it. “I’m counting on you to take care of me and my career.”
Travis clenched Chase’s hand and held on like a father about to impart an important life lesson. “Don’t let me down on your end.”
CHAPTER NINE
HIS TRUCK TIRES SQUEALING, Chase motored into the last empty parking space at Bright Heart Sanctuary. He grabbed the to-go bag from The Panini Parade, hotfooted it toward the entrance and hoped for a onetime miracle. Anything that put a hiccup in his grandmother’s typical morning routine: cappuccino sweetened with cream and sugar and a splash of hot milk, two almond biscotti and an in-depth review of the day’s headlines both newsworthy and gossip.
Ten yards from the entrance, his eldest sister charged toward him like a defensive back after the receiver. “I knew you’d come to Nonna’s first. You’ve ignored my texts and calls all morning.”
Chase deflected to the left, sprinted around her and rushed the glass doors as if the assisted living center was the locker room at halftime and he had twelve minutes to revise his game plan.
Mallory kept pace with him. “When I suggested you get a wife, I didn’t mean literally overnight.”
The miracle train had obviously departed the station hours ago. He lunged for the door and stretched his grin extra wide. “I was just following your advice.”
“You never listen to me.” Exasperation creased his sister’s forehead. Her voice was curt.
“That’s not true.” Chase urged Mallory inside the lobby. “I listened in high school and got myself a tutor. Then again, in college, I reached out for tutoring assistance like you told me to do.”
“You wouldn’t have passed high school without Nichole’s help. And she helped you stay in college long enough to get drafted.” Mallory wasn’t fading. “You had no choice.”
He had no choice last night either. Nichole had called him her husband. If he’d corrected her in front of Vick and Glenn, he might’ve ruined her opportunity to sell her program. As for convincing Nichole to continue their charade, his rationale sounded much less sensible and much more selfish without Nichole glowing in a wedding dress in front of him.
He picked up his pace, hurrying toward the front desk and the check-in station. The receptionist called her congratulations to Chase. He waved, offered the woman an appreciative smile.
The press had often labeled him selfish. He’d always pretended the label never stung deeper than a mosquito bite. More nuisance than liability.
But the label fit. He was selfish. That truth surged through him like a full body dunk in an ice bath, uncomfortable and cloyingly cold. “Mallory, don’t you have classes to teach? Dissertations to read? Or even patients to put to sleep before their surgery?”
“Never mind my schedule.” Mallory made a slashing motion with her hand. “What is this about you having a wife?”
“We have to talk on the way. Nonna prefers her paninis hot.” And Chase preferred to discuss startling and unsettling news with his grandmother after she’d eaten. She’d always been more receptive to his pranks and mischief between dinner and dessert.
“What’s really going on?” Mallory followed Chase down the corridor. “Who is this woman? Someone looking for their five minutes of fame, I suppose.”
“It’s not like that.” Mallory hadn’t recognized Nichole in the blurry photograph. He could salvage things. His family had always liked Nichole. “She’s not like that.”
“Then it’s true?” Doubt lingered in Mallory’s frown.
Carter Jones, one of the nurses, leaned on his medicine cart outside the elevators and held up two thumbs. Carter’s smile hooked from one ear to the other. “Pioneers are going to the big game this coming year. I can feel it already.”
The constant ache in Chase’s shoulder intensified. The speculation from the staff and the judgment from his sister hurtled toward him, pushing on him to falter. Chase beelined for the staircase, taking two at a time. “Let’s get Nonna her lunch.”
“You aren’t going to tell me anything, are you? That’s fine.” Mallory rounded on Chase outside their grandmother’s apartment door. “Nonna will get the truth out of you. You’ve never been able to lie to her.”
There was a first time for everything. His mother and grandmother had often recited that particular phrase after one of Chase’s adventures. How could he deceive Nonna now? How could he not?
If Nonna believed Chase, then surely his fake marriage had merit. If his grandmother called him out, then he’d end the pretense and find another way to help Nichole.
He opened the door and entered the one-bedroom apartment. Everything inside him stumbled. His mother and his younger sister, Ivy, sat beside Nonna at the square kitchen table turned crafting center. News traveled fast in the Jacobs family. He braced the cheer in his smile and his tone. “Hello, everyone. This is unexpected.”
“Not so very surprising.” His grandmother’s wry tone lacked the bright happiness of the pastel pink flowers she clasped. “If you read the news and keep up on current events. Which I might remind you we are obliged to do, thanks to your fondness for always making the headlines.”
His mother and sisters nodded, slow and solemn, as if Nonna had just recited the keys to a long life and they were part of her inner council.
Chase dropped the panini bag on the kitchen counter and searched for the key to survive the next half hour. “Had I known you would all be here, I would’ve ordered more food.”
“Now that you’re here, you can call the newspaper and demand a retraction for reporting false and harmful stories.” His mother wrapped burlap around a large round wreath frame, quickly and efficiently covering the green foam. The same way she’d raised three kids on her own: organized, controlled and tender. Her gaze settled on him. “After all, the mother of the supposed groom should know about her only son’s wedding before some unknown reporter.”
Chase took off his suit jacket, folded it over a kitchen stool. Guilt clung to him. He’d never wanted to disappoint his mom. Ever. If he lost his football career, he couldn’t provide for his family and give back through his foundation. Without football, what would he give, but more disappointment?
“What about me?” Ivy waved her hand from her seat at the table. Her mouth, usually set in a wide, open smile that revitalized the most dreary room, flatlined into an unwelcoming grimace. “I only run your nonprofit. I have access to your full financials and tax records. Yet I wasn’t even told you had a fiancée.”
Ivy’s words sliced at him. She’d expanded his foundation and grown its impact in the city and surrounding communities. She was business minded and career oriented. Were those tears pooling in her eyes? Ivy never cried, never allowed anyone to see a weakness. Chase loosened his tie.
“What about
me?” Mallory cut in.
Her words stopped Chase from handing Ivy a tissue. No doubt, Ivy would resent him all the more for pointing out her tears.
Mallory pinned a silk flower behind her ear, the baby blue color enhanced the spark of victory in her perceptive gaze. She’d already suspected foul play. “I know his full medical history. I should’ve been told too.”
And that ended Mallory’s case. She wouldn’t believe Chase had kept such big news from her. Mallory and Chase had shared too much over the years. Chase released the button on the collar of his dress shirt. If he continued, Mallory would leave Nonna’s apartment bewildered and betrayed. If he exposed the plan, his family most likely wouldn’t understand or approve. If they spoke to the press, they could accidentally ruin everything.
“A reporter called my house, Chase.” His mother walked to him and gripped his hands. She owned every inch of her petite stature and her regal stance alone demanded obedience. “She wanted a comment about my son’s nuptials.”
His sisters scowled at him. But his mom’s dismay and outrage diluted the silence.
“My only son gets married and I wasn’t even invited.” His mother dropped his hands like a spider’s nest and sagged into the chair beside Nonna.
Chase yanked off his tie. When had his family become champions of marriage? His mother had never remarried. Rarely dated in the two decades since her divorce. Ivy and Mallory put their careers first, the same as Chase. Marriage wasn’t supposed to be this big of a deal.
Nonna patted his mother’s forearm and peered over the rims of her glasses at him. “This family does not work that way, Chase Baron Jacobs.”
Chase winced. The hurt on her face fused the guilt deep inside him. His throat tightened around his confession. One admission would end all of this. But the disappointment would no doubt remain for his latest foolish stunt.
“Maybe he’s taken too many hits.” Ivy sorted silk butterflies by color on the table and avoided looking at him. “Concussion damage is very real.”
Mallory tipped her head, her gaze narrowed. He already knew she was making a mental note to order an MRI on his brain.
“You dismissed your family as if we mean nothing to you. You refuse to request a retraction.” His mother’s voice was as empty and stark as the wreath frame she clutched. “What’s happened to my son?”
He hadn’t really excluded his family. That truth hardly eased his torment.
“Because marriage and you, Chase...” His mother’s voice faded away.
Her apprehension landed like a boulder in one of Nonna’s ceramic birdbaths. Chase recoiled. He’d supposedly gotten married, not sentenced to jail. First, he’d upset them for disregarding the sanctity of marriage. Now his own mom refused to believe he could even be married. As if marriage and Chase repelled each other. “Would it be so bad if I was married?”
“Marriage isn’t a joke, Chase.” His mother stood, set her hands on her hips and stared him down. “Marriage is definitely not something you do on a whim or because it sounds fun in the moment.”
He paced away, avoiding the crafting table and the jury seated there. He chose not to commit to a relationship. That hardly meant he couldn’t commit. But if he committed to football and to a relationship, then one was certain to suffer. His own father had struggled to remain committed to his marriage and his career. And his family had paid the price. Chase kept his focus on football and avoided the collateral damage of bruised feelings, crushed expectations and damaged hearts, including his own. And that occasional twinge of loneliness he simply stomped beneath his cleats. “I know exactly what marriage means.”
His mom brushed his words aside. “It’s a commitment that requires hard work, patience and dedication.”
Even then, marriages failed. Yet marriage was clearly important to his mother and sisters. He’d never considered how important until now. Not some simple word to be tossed out like confetti to celebrate a win. An odd, uncomfortable sensation rooted between his ribs.
Were marriage vows as sacred to Nichole as his own family? Had he ruined marriage for Nichole too? Dread and regret coiled through him. “I can do all that. I can be a good husband.”
He just never had the inclination. He never wanted to divert his attention away from football for a relationship. There it was again. Another checkmark in the selfish column. He’d always referred to himself as singularly focused. That was simple sugarcoating, like the powdered sugar his grandmother sprinkled on her crinkle cookies.
“It’s really good to know you can be all that.” Ivy walked into the kitchen and unpacked the paninis. Frustration had crept into her voice. “Because you’re going to have to do all that and more now that you’re a husband.”
His sister lengthened the word husband as if capitalized and highlighted in bold. Chase pulled plates from the cabinets and debated confessing.
They’d discourage him from continuing a fake marriage. Might even let the truth slip to someone outside the family, believing they were being helpful. Nichole’s chances at a sale would diminish. And he had his own contract negotiations to consider. Selfish check mark number two.
He was quickly earning the championship title in the all-about-me category. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked his messages: more congratulations from teammates, coaching staff and Pioneers’ management filled the text previews. Mission Reputational Repair was in full progress.
Quick beats of pleasure pulsed inside him. The approval proved difficult to ignore.
An image of Nichole on the stairs outside the cathedral flashed in his mind. His breath skipped again. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had made him breathless from nothing more than a brilliant smile and perfectly fitted gown. He’d almost believed Nichole was his...
Chase set the plates on the counter and cast his misplaced thoughts aside. Defeat came when players lost focus. They had a business arrangement and contracts to finalize. Nothing that should make his knees buckle and his heart trip over itself. “Mallory suggested I needed a wife.”
“Only to speak as your conscience.” Burlap tangled around Mallory’s hands. “And not immediately.”
“It wasn’t a bad suggestion.” Nonna unwound the burlap from Mallory’s grip and frowned at him. “Yet your methods to achieve such a goal make me consider that Ivy might be correct. You’ve taken one too many hits to your head.”
Chase grinned. His grandmother hadn’t questioned his ability to be married. She’d been disappointed he’d excluded his family. He’d be sure to include them if he ever decided to step into marriage for real.
“I’m sorry about this. Really sorry. I know you’ll need time to forgive me.” He loaded regret and chagrin into his voice, lowered his shoulders, dropped his chin to his chest. “It just all happened so fast.” Literally, in one day. With one misspoken phrase.
“At least tell us who you married.” His mother held a plain, unadorned wreath frame in front of her as if to protect herself from the answer. “You’ve excluded us enough already.”
Perhaps this revelation would ease the hurt and usher in their forgiveness. His family had adored Nichole. Chase straightened and embraced one truth he could admit. “Nichole Moore.”
Four sets of eyes stared at him. Unblinking. Composed. Unimpressed. Surely, they remembered Nichole. She’d been an important part of his life. A vital part. An unforgettable part.
“Nichole Moore,” Chase repeated, putting more emphasis on Nichole’s name. “From high school.”
“Sweet, smart Nichole.” Ivy’s bold, buoyant smile returned. She set a sandwich on a plate with more flourish.
“Little Nikki.” His mom’s smile softened into her eyes.
She wasn’t Little Nikki any longer. Nichole was engaging and intriguing. And in a wedding gown, captivating. But she’d been captivating on his lap, right before he’d kissed her. Focus. Focus. Focus. He wo
uld’ve hit the side of his helmet if he’d been wearing one.
“You married that Nichole Moore.” Mallory jumped from her chair. Confusion pulled her eyebrows together. Her words came slow and succinct. “Nichole the class valedictorian. Summa cum laude. National Honor Society. And student voted most likely to invent the next generation’s iPhone.”
His family’s collective shock set him back. Or perhaps not. He’d always known, even in high school, Nichole was far out of his league. The idea she’d marry him, a jock without a college degree and a learning disability, was somewhat far-fetched. Chase managed a small nod.
“How did you reconnect with Nichole?” his mom asked.
“She invited me to dinner. I accepted.” That sounded reasonable. Plausible. What wasn’t reasonable or plausible was Nichole marrying him. “But the marriage...”
“I always liked her,” Mallory cut in.
He’d always liked Nichole too. Even when she had frustrated him. Or had pushed him to read more. He’d liked her. Now he’d convinced her to pretend to be his wife. How could she like him? He rarely second-guessed his decisions, even the bad ones. He simply accepted the consequences and moved on. But Nichole not liking him soured his insides. He swallowed but doubted a barrel of water could wash away the distaste. And if that wasn’t a bad sign, then he had learned nothing from Nonna and her tales about omens.
Ivy carried a sandwich plate into the family room and set it on the end table beside the couch. “How is Nichole?”
“A single mom. Her son’s name is Wesley.” Now it was more important that Wesley liked Chase. Now his family was involved. “Nichole created a computer program and an investment firm wants to buy it.”
Her Surprise Engagement Page 8
