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

that my team is going to be okay without me. Just as they should be. I watch as the guys sitting with me on the bench rush the ice. I push off after them, gliding over the ice and throwing myself into the team celebrations.

When Austin is awarded the Stanley Cup, he doesn’t hoist it overhead like tradition dictates. Instead, he points to me, skates over, and passes me the trophy. I shake my head at him but he grins. “Congratulations, Torst. Thanks for getting us here.”

My hands tremble as I lift the trophy overhead. The team’s cheers are deafening. The jubilee of the crowd shakes the arena. My eyes find my wife and hold her gaze.

In a handful of moments, I realize just how much my life has changed. And just how okay I am with it all.

24

Rielle

I know the moment he enters Taps because a cheer works through the crowd. Fans whisper excitedly, some ask him for autographs or selfies, and everyone tracks his movement as he makes his way to the bar. To me.

Claire and Indy are already in the private room at the back. Claire’s mom, Mary, has decorated the space with balloons and streamers and every throwback decoration you can imagine to make these big, brawny hockey guys feel the same magic of their childhood hockey wins. It’s sweet and thoughtful and something I know the team will revel in.

But I stayed out front so I could remember this moment. The one where my husband walked through the door as a hometown hero. The one where I still got to enjoy calling him my husband, if only for a tiny bit longer. I waffled back and forth on whether to come to the game or not. But at Claire’s pleading and Mira’s urging, I booked a flight. I need to see if there’s anything between Torsten and me worth salvaging. Because my choice is him. Once he confirms that I’m not his, that he doesn’t see a way for us to move forward together, I can sign divorce papers with a clear head.

But if there’s any chance that he’d choose me back… Well, I’m not willing to keep living my life on my own assumptions. I witnessed firsthand how that ruined my relationships with my brother and dad and I don’t want to ruin everything with Torsten if there’s still hope.

He stops next to me and his eyes flash. I grin at him and bring my wine glass to my lips.

“What’re you drinking, Ri?”

“Just a merlot.”

His smile widens. “Just a merlot, huh?”

“Congrats on the win.”

“Thank you.”

“You earned it,” I tell him the truth, my voice laced with emotion.

He must hear the nervous thread in my tone because his smile slips a little. “You came to the game.”

“I wanted to see you accept the trophy.”

“How’d you know we’d win tonight?”

I take a sip of my wine. “If you didn’t, I would have been at game seven.”

“That right?” he asks, his arm wrapping around my waist. “You want to relocate to the back?”

I nod, knowing this is a big night for him. More than anything, Torsten and I need to talk. He still hasn’t sent me divorce papers. I never went back to the penthouse. He has my belongings and I have his last name and everything between us is a big, complicated mess. But tonight isn’t the night to hammer out those details. Tonight, I want him to celebrate with his teammates and smile at me like he’s truly happy I’m here. Like he is right now.

He leads me to the back room and everyone stands and claps. Even though Torsten didn’t play in the Finals, everyone knows this is his last season. Tonight was his last game as a Hawk. If anyone has helped the team progress over the past two decades, it’s been Torsten, and I love seeing him receive the recognition he’s earned. I love the blush that works over his cheeks and the gratitude in his voice when he thanks the group even more.

I sidle up to the bar as Torsten is pulled into congratulatory hugs and photographs with his teammates and their families. East takes the barstool next to mine and orders a club soda.

“Big night for you.” I bump my hip against his. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Ri. Glad you decided to come out for the game.”

“Me too.”

“You talk to him yet?” He tips his head toward Torsten.

“It’s not the night for that.”

“Oh, please.” Claire appears at my other side, sandwiching me between her and Easton. “As if he’s going to let you walk out of Taps tonight without knowing exactly where you guys stand.”

“I need to know where we stand too.” My voice wavers and I clear my throat. “Either we’re married for real or we’re done for good.”

East snorts and takes a gulp of his club soda.

Claire straight up laughs.

I glare at her.

She shrugs. “Ri-Ri, I fucking adore you. But sometimes you can be so thick.”

“What?” I swat at her arm but she catches my hand and holds on to it.

“Torsten is a man of means. I mean, come on, look at him.”

We both turn toward him and I drink him in greedily, memorizing the breadth of his shoulders, the slant of his cheekbones, the shape of his mouth.

“If he wanted to divorce you, you would have been divorced weeks ago,” Claire mutters beside me. “The truth is staring you straight in the face. That man is head over heels in love with you. He just thinks you don’t love him back.”

I whip my head toward her and frown. “That’s ridiculous. I—”

“Have you told him, point blank, how you feel?” East asks from my other side.

“What?” I face him, my head spinning.

“We don’t always get it,” East cuts me off. “Sometimes, it takes us guys longer to catch up to what’s really happening. But Torsten isn’t like most guys. He’s more caring, more empathetic. If you didn’t spell it out for him, then he’ll keep believing that he trapped