Nova Darkmore is my Charmer. That is the only thought that has been circulating my brain for the last two days. That the Captain of the hockey team, the very team my brother plays on, and once my nemesis, is the Charmer behind sending me all those messages, and what did I do when I found out? I bailed.
He isn’t a stranger, or a stalker, he isn’t a serial killer, or even someone I don’t know. It’s just him. The one whose touch sets me alight, and the one whose hands make me burn for him and him alone. He knows what I taste like, and even worse what my secrets are. It’s him, Nova, since that very first night, it has always been him.
I read his confession that was practically a love letter for someone like him, and then I ignored it, but what choice did I have? I already knew I was in too deep with the savior inside my phone who made me smile everyday, and that only got worse with the cocky hockey player hanging around me. The fact that they’re the same person? A disaster of gigantic proportions.
Of course it sounds perfect, that the sweet, charming and funny guy inside my phone also turns out to be the sexy, hot, and dominating guy on the ice, but it’s not. Not because I find him any less charming or sexy, but because he is both, because he is in fact perfect. You’d think it would be a story we would tell our future grandchildren on the porch of our pretty house someday, but that’s impossible when I am weeks away from being engaged to another man.
It might have only been two days since his revelation, but I am feeling his absence more than I’d like to admit. Hallie has been busy writing a paper, Josh has been practicing for his game tomorrow, and without the messages from my number one stalker, life feels pretty quiet. It’s mainly just me going to class, studying in the library, coming home, and going to sleep. Even Harold has been abandoned in my top drawer, not holding the same allure he once did.
Now to make matters worse, I am being forced to endure yet another dinner with my father and future husband. Just thinking that word in my head makes me want to throw up. Or maybe shove the fork I am using to play with my dull salad into the side of my neck, praying they let me bleed out on the table. It would be a better option than having to listen to him kiss my father’s ass and talk about me like I am a piece of meat he can’t wait to devour.
“My father is letting me handle the Landon deal in the new year,” Brad drones on like he has done for the last hour. “He wants me to be more active in the company, he thinks I’m ready, and having some decent arm candy won’t hurt with all those Landon fuckers,” he winks at my dad, and despite my dad nodding knowingly, I still spot the slight grimace pulling at the corner of his mouth. Of course, Brad doesn’t. Common sense could knock him right in the face and he still wouldn’t notice. “You know how it is, Mr Peters, your wife is still hot for an older woman, I bet that helps you out, and I haven’t forgotten about your taste in extracurriculars.” Another wink, as if they are sharing some completely tactless inside joke, and this time my father looks ready to combust.
Thankfully Brad stands, knocking into my shoulder and forcing my body forward, as he excuses himself from the table. Both my father and I watch him leave in silence, before I turn my focus to him and cock my eyebrow. “Isn’t my future husband just so charming,” I drawl, ensuring every ounce of sarcasm I can manage finds its way into my words. Somehow the fact that Nova is the one behind the texts has made my reality all that much worse to bear.
My father can’t honestly think this is a good match. Brad and I have nothing in common, and I don’t know how I will ever survive a marriage with him. There has to be a way out of this, and not just because I want a chance with a certain number nineteen wearing hockey player.
“Don’t start, Madeline,” my father almost begs, as if he is as tired of this ruse as I am, and I use this opening to plead my case one last time.
“There must be someone else, Dad” I start, lowering my voice so the people surrounding us can’t hear. “And I mean, quite literally anyone else. I know you have expectations of me, an obligation you expect me to fulfill, and I will, but there has to be someone else.” I’m begging now, but I don’t care. Bradley Thorne cannot be the future that was meant for me. Not that I ever thought that future would be Nova Darkmore, and I know it won’t be, but surely my father can find me a better match, or at least a kinder one.
Silence stretches between us, his eyes softening ever so slightly, and for once I think I am finally getting through to him, that he is looking at me, and hearing me, but then his Mayoral mask slips back into place. “Madeline,” he clears his throat, straightening his shoulders. “The deal is already done, so you’ll just have to make the best of it,” he adds quietly.
Tears sting at the back of my eyes, but after years of practice, the smile stretches across my mouth naturally, and I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “I’m going to Josh’s game in Crystal Valley tomorrow,” I start, changing the subject completely to safer, more neutral grounds for both of our sakes. “Hallie and I are driving out together to watch him play.” I can already see the refusal bubbling up in my father’s throat, the need to deny me, to keep me on that tight leash. One that feels even tighter with Brad around, so I rush to add, “Kind of like our last little trip before the engagement.”
That last part gives him pause, and I keep my perfect smile in place as he studies me closely, looking for a sign of deceit. He won’t find one, he doesn’t know me well enough, and I have been playing his games for far longer than he realizes. I’m his daughter after all, and eventually he smiles, the one I used to love so much when I was a little girl, one that does nothing for me now I know how fake it is. “Okay, that sounds fine,” he finally relents, just as Brad returns to the table.
“Smile, darling,” he purrs, draping his arm around my shoulder as he takes his seat, and I have to suppress my shudder. ”There are people watching,” he adds in a rough whisper, nothing like the one I have recently come to enjoy, and I grit my teeth in response. My smile doesn’t falter though.
I’d love nothing more than to rip the arm he is using to touch me, clean off his body, and beat him to death with it, but as my eyes flick across the restaurant I realize he’s right. There are multiple people watching us, of course they are pretending they aren’t, but as with every time I go out with my father, they are. It doesn’t bother me, in fact I am used to it, but when I notice one person sitting along the back wall alone, their gaze more scrutinizing than anything else, a sickening feeling hits me. Reporter.
“The press are here,” I grumble beneath my breath, only loud enough for my father and fake asshole boyfriend to hear, and when neither of them react, I huff a laugh. They don’t react because they already know. They probably even set it up, and this required dinner makes so much more sense now, especially when Brad lets his arm linger across my back.
This whole thing was a set up. Of course it was. I’m so fucking stupid. This isn’t about spending time with my father, or getting to know Brad. No, this is purely about us being seen together, so that when the time comes for my engagement to be announced, there is photographic evidence of our courtship. I should have known, my father is nothing if not strategic, and of course he wants to make sure his investment in us is worth it. It would almost be laughable if it weren’t so fucking archaic and ridiculous. Not that I bother voicing that, it would be wasted on their ears.
Instead, I lean into Brad’s heavy and disgusting touch on me, giving both him and my father my complete attention. If this is going to be my life I need to start playing the part, and as I sit there trying not to think how much I wish his touch belonged to someone else, I can’t help but think the noose feels tighter than ever.
The rest of the dinner is mostly painless, excluding Brad’s overly affectionate touch that is borderline sleazy, and my father’s approving stare lapping it all up as if it is totally real. As if I didn’t just beg for it to be anyone else in the world. By the time the plates are cleared and the check is being signed, I feel freedom in sight once more, and I couldn’t be more desperate for a reprieve.
We move through the restaurant towards the exit together, and I make sure to smile pointedly at the reporter still lingering at their table. Showing every bit of restraint I have by not flipping them off. My father barely offers me a goodbye as he excuses himself to go back to the office. It’s almost 9 o’clock, I doubt he has any work left, and knowing what he likes to do in his spare time, I grimace as I watch him go. Brad lingers, and I mildly panic at the thought of this night going on any longer, but thankfully he only stays long enough to tell me to show off more of my great rack at the next dinner. Pig.
Needing to loosen some of this tension now lingering in my body, I motion to Julian that I am going to walk for a while, and he climbs back in the car to follow me along. It would be kinder of me to just go home, but I don’t need him being witness to the turmoil going on inside of me right now, so I turn and start making my way towards home on foot.
I’m not sure how long I walk for, my mind is too distracted by the life I am going to soon be living, and by the time I make it to the market by the lake near my house, I know there is only one solution. There is a great little Chinese takeout place a few shops in that I absolutely adore, and after the dull dinner with the even duller company, I need something with a little spice to it. I cut through the people, smiling at the same woman that is always behind the counter, and quickly placing my usual order. I hand over some bills and stand off to the side to wait, knocking into another patron as I do so.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” I start, turning around to see who I attacked with my body, and shock floods me when I find familiar eyes, only they lack the brooding I am used to.
Diana Darkmore stares at me, eyes wide, and mouth speechless as she clutches her own little hoard of Chinese food to her chest. I don’t know why I am so surprised to find her here, she is the sole reason I even know about this place, many late night dinners scored from here in the past. It’s just I have been coming here for almost two years alone and not once have I encountered her. In fact, I haven’t seen her since before my dad fired her and the press dragged her name through the mud for my father’s sordid affair with her.
“Maddie Darling,” she says by way of greeting, a name she has called me a thousand times, and one I haven’t heard in far too many years. She smiles, some of her surprise subsiding as she takes me in, her eyes trailing over me and taking in the changes. I was barely a teen the last time she truly saw me, so I have definitely grown up in recent years. “Wow, look at you, you’re a woman,” she gasps, emotion shining in her eyes, a sad smile across her mouth. “How are you?”
I return her smile, the warmth of hers so familiar and safe that I feel like I want to cry. Diana was a vital part of my life. With parents like mine, and a brother mostly occupied by hockey, having someone like her around was like having a safe haven to escape into. She always looked after me, asked me questions about my day, helped me with homework, teased me about my crushes. Everything a real mother should do, I briefly think, and the tears threatening to spill start to sting. She hasn’t changed at all, sure she looks a little older herself, and she looks as if she has lost some weight, but apart from that she is still the same Diana.
“I’m good, Mrs Darkmore, how are you?” My manners overtake my personality, pushing me away from the emotion threatening to spill right here in the middle of the market, and she pops the bag of food onto her hip and glares at me. “Sorry, Diana, I’m doing okay thanks, how are you?” I add in a rushed ramble, feeling nervous for some reason, and she just laughs.
“Oh, Maddie, you haven’t changed a bit, have you dear?” Just as she asks that the server calls my name, my order ready, and I excuse myself for a second to grab it. When I return she glances down at the bags we are both holding. “I was just gonna head home and eat alone, but I would love some company.” She gestures to a nearby empty table under a small patio area, and I bite my lip nervously as she waits for me to answer.
In truth, I would love to have dinner and catch up with her for old times’ sake, hell, just to see how she is, and catch up, but I feel a little weird, and for once the problem isn’t my father. It’s her son. The one who just threw away months of texts with me so he could be with the other me, the one he doesn’t realize he already knows so well.
Despite that I can’t turn her down, not when it’s been so long, I’ve missed her. Which is why I find myself saying, “Sure, I would love to have dinner with you.” I hold my hand out to the table she gestured, letting her take a seat first, before I sit down across from her.
“So, how are you really?” she questions with a knowing smile. “How’s your brother? I’ve seen him play a few times, he’s doing amazing.”
Choosing the easier answer, I focus on my brother. “Josh is great, dominating and focused as always.” I roll my eyes playfully, she knows how great my relationship is with him. “He will be getting drafted next year, I’m going to miss him so much when he leaves.” She looks at me knowingly, seeing right through my attempt to avoid her question about myself, but before she can push me on it, I quickly add, “How’s Nova?”
I don’t know why I ask, it’s a stupid question, an even stupider notion to actually care, especially now I know what I know, but it’s been days since I have talked to him in any capacity and I have to know. Yet when her knowing smile morphs into confusion I mentally curse. “I didn’t realize you two knew one another,” she says slowly, and I curse myself again. Of course she thinks we don’t know each other. Until a few weeks ago we hated one another, or at least I thought we did, that shouldn’t have changed. Stupid stupid Maddie.
“We don’t,” I say too quickly, the two words not even sounding believable to my own ears, and I scold myself. “Not really anyway,” I add with a shrug. “I mean, he plays on the team with Josh, I see him around at parties and stuff.” I aim for my words to be casual, but I may as well be wearing a sign across my head that reads ‘I screwed your son’.
Diana watches me closely for a few seconds, no doubt searching my words for the lie they are, but thankfully she doesn’t seem to pick up on anything. “He’s doing well, he’s a good boy, always looking after me and making sure I’m okay. He cooks dinners with me, and helps me clean up. I struck gold with him” Her eyes go a little misty as she talks about him, and I am fascinated by her insight on him. Nothing like the cocky, alpha hole hockey player he portrays around campus, but I suppose given what I know now, that I was already aware of that.
You could stop most people in town and ask their thoughts on him and they’d all have something to say. He’s like my brother, thanks to hockey, everyone knows who he is, but their answers would all be the same. They would say what a great hockey player he is, how he will for sure be drafted into the NHL, and that he is one of the greats in the making. And they’d be right, he is, he will, but hearing someone talk about him as a person, about what he is like without a stick in his hand, it’s refreshing.
My mind rushes back over every text he ever sent, knowing most of them by heart considering I have reread them a hundred times in the last couple of days, and considering I can’t exactly agree with her, or add to her insight by telling her he gives great head. So, I say the only thing I can say without repercussion. “He’s a great hockey player.” Five words that sound so ridiculous that even I laugh a little as I say them, and it feels like Diana is seeing right through me, just like she always did, but she doesn’t call me out on it.
Instead, we spend the next hour catching up on the last few years. She asks me about the rest of my school years, how college is going, about the boy I had a crush on when I was thirteen, whose name she still remembers, and the yearly vacation we still take to the Hamptons every Summer, and the Bahamas every winter. She also catches me up on what she has been doing since leaving her position in my father’s office, and the guilt I feel is unmatched. I know it’s not my fault, but my father is the reason she lost everything, and the fact she isn’t holding it against me the same way her son once did is a miracle.
By the time we finish dinner and finally part ways, we have exchanged numbers and agreed to not go so long without talking again. Any tension I had from my earlier dinner has disappeared, along with the lingering guilt I had in relation to Nova’s mom, and my night actually turned out okay. I let Julian drive me the rest of the way home, greeting Hector on my way inside with a smile as they swap shifts, and when I head upstairs to shower, I feel lighter than I have in weeks.
I know the number of days until I lose my freedom is getting dangerously low, and I also know the rope around my neck will be so tight soon that I won’t be able to breathe. But right now I still have my freedom, and I plan to enjoy it one last time, afterall, I have a hockey game to look forward to.
