The Faker: A Marriage of Convenience Hockey Romance (Boston Hawks Hockey) by Gina Azzi (little red riding hood read aloud .TXT) 📕

Father extends a hand to the lawyers. “Shall we begin?”

Johan scoffs. He mutters something about our whole family being fucked up.

In this moment, stunned but not shocked, I wholeheartedly agree.

How are we supposed to talk about business now? How could Father discuss anything other than how special, how important Farmor was to all of us? To this family? My hands shake as I repeat the lawyer’s words in my mind. She’s gone. I swallow back the bile climbing the walls of my throat and focus on my breathing which feels too shallow. Floaters swim in my peripheral vision and my stomach churns.

The lawyer’s voice begins to read aloud and then Father slams the top of the table, Uncle Erik swears, and the room grows eerily quiet.

“Torsten?” Anders shakes my shoulder.

I glance up, meeting his eyes, so familiar to my own. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He gives me a look of disbelief. “Farmor left the company, all of its shares, to the four of us.” He gestures to me and our cousins.

Johan looks dumbfounded and Daniel’s mouth is wide open.

“What?” I ask, confusion rocking through me.

“Daniel, Johan, and I each inherited twenty-four percent of the company. She’s left the other twenty-eight percent to you. You are the majority shareholder. The majority of the company is now in your name.”

My vision clouds over and I grip the armrests, knowing I’m about to pass out.

Right before I do, Anders wraps his arm around me in a one-armed hug and I cling to reality even as the Earth shifts under my feet.

“Welcome back, brother. I’ve really missed you.”

I nod but it’s not his voice that echoes in my mind.

It’s Father’s. “I’m contesting this. She can’t have meant to leave Torsten in charge, especially not now that he’s married to a woman he barely knows. A woman who will take half when he fails at marriage the same way he’s failed at everything else.”

20

Rielle

The moment I see Torsten’s face, I know something is wrong.

I rush to him, my hands hesitant as they grasp his. He’s cold to the touch, his eyes void, his expression blank.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“What’s right?” he responds and I recall that night at Taps, over two months ago now.

I frown and lead Torsten to the sitting area of our bedroom. We both sink to the couch, our knees touching.

“Torsten? Talk to me.”

“Farmor died,” he murmurs.

My hands clench his as a wave of emotion I didn’t expect to feel rolls through me. “I’m so sorry.” I shift closer and wrap my arms around him. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m glad I got to meet her, even for a moment. Thank you for bringing me.”

Confusion ripples over his face as he stares at me. “You really wanted to come?”

“I wanted to be with you. Be here for you,” I stammer.

“Why?” he asks and it’s as if he’s looking at me for the first time. There’s a cold dejectedness in his expression that alarms me.

“Because you’re my husband,” I say slowly.

“Am I? Farmor’s gone now. We don’t need to keep up this charade.” He disentangles our hands and jumps to his feet.

He paces back and forth in front of me, like a caged beast desperate to break free. A memory, a moment when I once paced in front of him, worried and hopeful and overwhelmed, blooms in my mind but I blink it away.

“What are you saying? Torsten?”

The longer he paces without answering me, the more my nerves ricochet through my body, the more my anxiety unfurls in my limbs. It feels like one of Magnus’s dinosaurs took up residence in my chest and I press the heel of my hand into my breastbone to loosen the pressure building there.

He stops suddenly and turns toward me. His blue eyes gleam with a million things I don’t understand except for one. Acceptance. Whatever he’s about to say, he’s already accepted. He’s made his peace with it. And it’s going to decimate me.

I brace for the impact as his lips part. “We jumped into this. We jumped into everything because I wanted to stay in the US and you were struggling under your loan payments. But now…things have changed. We don’t have to stay in a situation we never would have found ourselves in otherwise.” He shakes his head before meeting my gaze again. His eyes are wild. “We should get divorced.”

I squint up at him. “What? Why?” I shake my head. “You’re not making any sense.”

“I’m making plenty of sense.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “My farmor has passed. I’ve inherited the majority of the company.”

I suck in a breath, not expecting that at all.

“My career is finished. My body is fucking breaking. What am I going to do in the US anyway?”

“What?” I jump to my feet now, my hurt bleeding into anger. Anger is good; I know what to do with anger. “Wasn’t that the whole point of this?” I gesture between us. “For you to stay in the States?”

He nods, his eyes bleeding with emotion but then he blinks and it’s as if triage managed to stem the flow. “Yes, it was. Because I didn’t know what was waiting for me here. My brother and I, my cousins, we’ve made amends. I have a nephew, Ri. A kid I could adore. This is my childhood home. My family.” His voice holds a tone of longing and it rips through me.

He wants his home.

Haven’t I felt that way before? When I was missing Mom? When I was desperate for Dad to really see me? But when I left, I swore I’d never return. Until now, my pride has always prevented me from trying to find a way back. Isn’t it fortunate for Torsten that his family is welcoming him with open arms again?

My throat expands and suddenly, breathing is difficult. Panic rises in my chest, my fingers tingle, and dread fills my limbs with dead weight. I suck air into my lungs but it’s too thin and