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“And how is everything with you, miss?” the manager asked graciously, turning to me. I let Drew catch a second of my vacant stare before putting on a good face and looking up with a smile.
“Everything’s perfect.”
26
For more than a week after the engagement, there was a palpable tension at home.
But as far as faking it went, Evie and I had never been better.
In fact, I was pretty convinced we deserved Oscar nods for our performances to combat the media. SHE’S GOT THE RING – NOW THEY’RE ON THE ROCKS! That headline and pictures of our heated conversation had been splashed all over the tabloids the morning after our dinner, along with speculation that I was already regretting my decision to leave my “wild bachelor ways.”
It was all bullshit on top of bullshit, but I knew how it looked. My reputation combined with those images created a pretty damned believable narrative. And since I had a job to keep – since I refused to waste all the work I’d already put in – I went with every sappy goddamned date Iain suggested.
And to my surprise, considering the way she’d begun acting since the night of the dinner, Evie went along with them too.
Tuesday, she sat with the WAGs, wearing my jersey fitted tight on her body as she cheered me on to my seventh win of the season. At the end of the game, I jogged over to her by the first base line, flipped my cap backwards and let her cup my face with both hands as I gave her a very public kiss.
“Good game, babe,” she murmured as the WAGs cooed behind her.
By the time I got home that night, she was asleep with her door closed and locked.
The case was the same for the next four nights.
Not only that, she was always out of the house when I woke up and only met me at the location of our public date – whether it was a stroll at the farmers market in Union Square, a sidewalk cafe lunch with Diaz and his wife, or grocery shopping in a ridiculously crowded Trader Joe’s, her favorite store in the world. Whatever we were doing, I found myself with consistently no time or privacy to talk or ask Evie questions – not that I had any by the third night of this pattern.
I knew what was happening.
I wouldn’t talk to her about Tim, so she was reverting strictly to business.
My initial reaction was that of amusement. It felt like a direct challenge from her, and I was always up for one of those. So I laughed to myself, albeit slightly bitterly, and I let that sense of game carry me till Sunday morning, when we went shoe shopping at some store with a big, paparazzi-friendly window up front.
Evie lost her mind over strappy heels, I watched her try a dozen pairs in a pair of little denim shorts, and I was pretty sure neither of us was faking our interest there.
But at the register, the act was on.
“Babe, wait. Which color should I get? The white or the tan?” she asked, her arms wrapped around my neck as she gazed down at the shoes.
“Get them both,” I shrugged. The salesgirl smiled as Evie beamed up at me, saying something about me being the best before she went on her toes and kissed me on the lips.
But it wasn’t a quick peck like I expected – it was a slow, sexy swirl of her tongue as she pressed her tits firmly against my chest, and after a week without contact, my dick reacted immediately. I knew Evie felt it because she let out a sexy little mm into my mouth.
Then the second my hand slid from her hips toward her ass, she pulled away, smiling brightly at the salesgirl who handed over her bags.
I was pretty sure the only reason she waited at the door was because there were a few paparazzi camped right outside the door, and she didn’t want to walk alone. Considering how aggressive those assholes could get, I couldn’t blame her. I was glad she waited.
But after letting me guide her to the car and open the door, Evie slid in and went straight to answering emails on her phone. I could tell the immediate silence was jarring to the driver because he kept peeking at us through the rearview mirror. It was at that point that I wished I’d just called my usual driver Gary instead of using some app, because I was pretty sure this guy was paying far too much attention to us.
“Everything okay, guys?” he dared to ask with a little laugh after about thirty seconds of silence. I gave him an odd look but just as I wondered whether the kid was going to sell a tabloid some tidbit on our failing engagement, I heard Evie purr.
“Babe, I love them so much. I can’t stop looking at them,” she said, peeking into the shoeboxes inside the bag at her feet.
I grinned, partially over her wariness of the driver, but mostly over the little fuck-me voice she was putting on for me.
“I’m glad you like them. You should put them on.”
“Not now. Tonight. When you get home,” she said, leaning back on the window and briefly teasing me by rubbing her ankle against my knee.
It lasted all of two seconds but I couldn’t erase the image of mostly naked legs on display for me like that, so when she went back to her emails, I took advantage of our nosy driver’s eavesdropping and held my arm out.
