The officiant claps and congratulates us, but we barely hear him.
“Yeah,” I say, turning to face the photographer with a fake smile. “Didn’t you? I thought we were keeping this a secret.”
Libby grabs my hand and gently tugs me back down the aisle, grinning like she’s ecstatic to have just tied the knot with me. “I told them I was taking a last-minute trip to Hawaii.” Her tone sounds like,Of course.
I hold back a snort of laughter. “That would’ve made my family askmorequestions.”
Libby keeps her smile on as the photographer and videographer circle around us. “I thought you were going to tell your sister about this.” She stresses “this,” insinuating the fake part of the marriage. She laughs, as though we’re joyous, giddy in each other’s company.
“I figured I should wait until after we’d done it. Otherwise Baylee would have tried to talk me out of it.” Even with the videographer, that’s safe to say. Totally normal for a family member to want to talk sense into their brother, running off to get married to a woman he barely knows.
“Maybe she should have,” Libby mutters, but she’s still smiling for the cameras, so I don’t know what to make of it. “Okay, that’s enough,” she announces. “We’re going to gochange.” She puts just enough implication into the word to make our small audience chuckle—and immediately put down the cameras. What I would’ve given for that kind of command over the press when I was playing hockey. Press conference getting uncomfortable? Shut it down. Reporters asking dumb questions I don’t want to answer? Shut it down. And she did it so effortlessly, without making them feel bad for doing their jobs.
She’s incredible.
We hold hands as we make our way up the beach to the house Libby rented for us for a few days before we head back to Houston. When we get inside, Libby goes around shutting curtains and blinds.
“If this gets leaked, there’re going to be reporters with telephoto lenses lurking soon,” she explains as she floats around the main room—yes, floats. Her dress is lightweight and flutters around her, and she moves with such grace. I’m sure it’s because of years of practice of being “on” all the time, having an audience, always being poised. “And it’s probably going to get leaked,” she finishes.
Not surprising. The one photo we posted created rumors immediately. I’ve been tagged in other photos of us together—people who saw us at the restaurant for lunch, pictures from the fundraising dinner she came to with me, a shot of us walking down the street together. And of course we’ve been seen together on the plane and in the airport. Though it was only us on the beach, there were likely people in the houses nearby paying attention. As soon as people figure out that Libby Bennet is up to something, this is all going to explode.
“Mrs. Atkinson?” I step up next to her as she presses a button to lower shades on the floor-to-ceiling windows that cover the wall facing the beach.
She tilts her head at me, putting one hand on her hip, which is pretty sexy. “I’m keeping my name, Jordan.”
I grin. “Of course you are. But are you good? You’re on a mission with these shades, and this house is big.”
“I’m fine,” she insists, watching the shades come down and avoiding looking at me. “We probably just need to do this room so you can call your sister, and then the master bedroom—of course. Would it look weird if we lower the shades in one of the other rooms so I can sleep there?” she muses. She huffs. “It probably will makesomeonetalk. Like,what is Libby Bennet hiding about her honeymoon with her new man?”
I bite back laughter at the high-pitched voice she uses toimitate celebrity news anchors. “Permission to give you a friendly hug,” I ask.
She turns from the shades, studies me for a second, and then nods. “Yeah. Permission granted.”
I step forward, gathering her up in my arms. She wraps her arms around my back, but she’s still stiff. This won’t work if she can’t relax. We have a lot of pretending ahead of us, at least for a year, and so much of it in front of cameras. It’s going to be stressful, but I need her to trust that she’s completely safe with me.
I tighten my hold on her slightly and then take a deep breath, hoping she’ll mimic it. After a second, she does and then relaxes into my arms.
“This is going to be a lot,” I say softly into her hair. “I’ve got your back anytime, okay, Libby? I promise.”
She nods into my chest.
And then my phone starts buzzing again.
I groan.
Libby chuckles and pulls back to look at me. “You should probably talk to your sister before she calls the FBI.”
I sigh and pull out my phone to see a picture of me and Baylee at one of the first fundraisers we organized. The buzzing stops but starts again a few seconds later.
“I should have told her I was coming to Hawaii,” I say.
Libby gives me a small smile. “Next time I’ll help with the prep, Mr. Bennet.”
A laugh bursts from me. “Not mad about that term of endearment,babe.”
She gives me a shove, but it’s teasing, which is a big step for Libby. “Answer your phone. I’ll be upstairs changing.”
I swipe to answer. “Hello?” My tone conveys exactly how much I fear for my life right now.
