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“Right,buddy,” I say. “Guess you missed the news in all the papers that Petal and I aremarried.”
“Yeah. I read it. It’s kind of strange, don’t you think?” He turns to Petal. “That right after you leave me at the altar, you walk down the aisle with another guy? Who does that?”
He looks between the two of us, a question mark on his face.
Petal throws her arm around my waist, practically gluing us together. I like it. “Andy, as they say, sometimes you justknow.”
I could kiss her.
In fact, I do, laying a sweet one right on her temple.
Andy nods, still looking smug as shit. “I watched your last game, Hanson. Too bad about the bad assist.”
Holy shit. He’s really going there.
But if I can handle the top media outlets in the country, I can certainly handle this little weasel. “You know, the other team put up a good fight. But not good enough, right?”
Petal giggles nervously. “That game was so exciting, Rake.” She turns back to Andy. “My first game, and they won.”
“Yeah, we did,” I say. “In spite of thebad assist.”
Andy grunts. “You guys got lucky.”
My back stiffens. This is not lost on Petal, who pulls me even tighter.
Jesus. This guy is bad news.
And just when I’m starting to feel really salty, he looks at his watch. “Good seeing you, Petal,” he says, brushing his fingers down her arm again. “I gotta head out.”
“Say hi to Jessica!” she calls after him.
Good one.
Without another glance in our direction, he splits, and as he does, I relax.
“Damn. Jealous much?” Petal asks, letting go of my waist.
“No. I’m not. I mean… damn. I can’t believe you almost married that guy,” I say, hoping to redirect the conversation.
She looks down at our grocery cart and moves a couple items around, like she isn’t sure what else to do. “Me too. Believe me.”
“Do you... you know, have any feelings for him? Does he usually come here? Did you know we’d run into him?”
I sound like a whiny-ass bitch, and I don’t care.
“I’m just asking for the publicity thing. You know, we don’t want you photographed with him or anything. Might piss Vince off,” I say with a laugh, trying to keep things light.
But it’s too late for that. “What? You think I set this up? That I wanted to run into that creep? I hate his fucking guts.”
Her chin trembles, but only for a moment. She pulls her shoulders back and lifts her chin. “You’re jealous. My fake husband is jealous, and I don’t mean fake-jealous,” she sings, looking around to make sure no one overhears.
I roll my eyes. “Would you relax with the jealous bullshit?”
“You like me. And you think I’m pretty.”
She’s right.
But sometimes I also want to kill her.
