The Husband Game

My eyebrows must rise as he opens the passenger side door for me, because he notices me checking out the car and shrugs.

“I’m on a hockey scholarship,” he explains. “Leaves me with a bit of free funds to play around with.”

Hockey. Well, that would certainly explain the abs he’s got. I step into the car and let him shut the door after me, my heart rabbiting in my chest. I’m not used to this kind of treatment. I’m not used to men holding doors or helping me put on my coat. I’m used to… well, modern guys. Guys who send you off tipsy after a mediocre date and ask you to text them to let them know you made it home okay, but who never respond to follow up when you do.

My heartbeat takes a minute to settle into a regular pattern. Especially once Charlie slides into the driver’s seat next to me and draws his own door shut. Because suddenly the air seems to get sucked out of the car through the closed windows, and I’m all too aware of how close we are. How his hand on the gear shift lingers near enough to graze my thigh—something he does briefly, as he shifts it from park into drive.

“So, where are we going?” I ask, my voice a little too high and wavery to completely disguise what I’m feeling.

He glances from the road to me and back again, smiling. “You’ll see.”

I huff out a sound that’s somewhere halfway between a sigh and a groan. “That’s not fair. You already planned the whole thing. I don’t even get a hint?”

His eyes dance. “You want a hint? All right…” He purses his lips, pretending to be thinking hard. “The place we’re going to is new, but already famous.”

I frown at the road ahead. New but famous? Nothing comes to mind. I fidget in my seat. “Is now a bad time to admit I don’t really follow the social scene in town?” I ask, which makes him laugh a little louder this time.

“Me neither.” He glances sideways at me, his smile widening. “But I asked around. Some friends who would know promise this place will not disappoint.”

“You asked some friends for advice on where to take me?” I fire back, equally amused.

“I wanted to make sure it would be somewhere up to your standards,” he replies.

“And what do you know about my standards, exactly?”

“Mm, well, I know you went out with me, so they can’t be that high.” He reaches across to nudge my leg, and I push back, playful, until he turns his palm upright and traps my hand in his, his strong, rough fingers wrapped tight around mine. “You’re worth the effort, Lila.”

“Because it’s tradition?” I ask, unable to keep a slight edge from my tone. But I can’t let myself forget that. I can’t forget that this is all a show, all just for an article I plan to write. This will all come crashing down soon, and I cannot allow myself to get caught up in the romance before that happens. No matter how appealing the romance might seem.

None of it is real.

“Because you deserve it,” Charlie responds, and his gaze searches out mine for a longer second now, until he has to turn back to the road once more. His hand remains tight around mine. “Lila, I would take you out even if you weren’t planning to write some article about how dating is a terrible idea.”

I laugh softly. He doesn’t. Then I shift in my seat once more, uncomfortable at the sincerity in his tone. “Yeah, well… Maybe you shouldn’t,” I whisper to my reflection more than to him.

Over my shoulder, I catch him peering at me once more, his jaw oddly tight, his forehead scrunched. But if he wants to protest, he doesn’t. Or maybe he just doesn’t have time, because a moment later, he makes a left turn, letting go of my hand to do so. And then we’re here. Standing at the base of a new high rise hotel that just went up in the middle of town. A hotel I’d never so much as set foot in the lobby of, because I figured they probably charged an arm and a leg just to do that, based on the reviews I’d heard about it so far.

“Um…” I start, assuming we’ve made a wrong turn somewhere. But Charlie is already climbing out from his side of the car and coming around to mine to open the door before I can do it myself. When he offers me a hand up out of the car, tossing his keys to a waiting valet at the same time, I have to stare. First at the building towering above us and then at him. “Are you serious?” I ask.