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These guys are a bunch of gossips.
“That was kind of the point. The whole thing started as a big misunderstanding, and then my new agent suggested we make it look real, so I paid her to fake date me. Go ahead, judge me.” I rest my hands on my hips, ready for their bullshit, because I know it’s coming. There’s no way these two are letting something like this go.
But then Tag does the one thing I least expect—he laughs. Like full-on clutching his stomach he’s laughing so hard. “You… are such… an idiot.”
Linc chuckles, and runs the back of his hand over his mouth like he’s trying to hide it, but he fails. I fucking see it. “So instead of telling your agent that maybe pretending to date your teammate’s sister wasn’t such a grand idea, you decided to recreate Pretty Woman? That was what you went along with?”
“Rhett… is going… to kill you,” Tag wheezes, slapping Linc’s shoulder. “He’s a dead man.”
“And you’re not helpful.” I frown, crossing my arms, and trying my best to ignore him and focus on Lincoln. “I was trying to do everything I could to help my contract renewal. This new guy is a fucking hard ass, and Lucas heard he liked guys that were committed to things outside of hockey.”
“Makes sense, I guess,” Lincoln answers slowly.
“I don’t see why. Doesn’t matter now though. The whole thing blew up in my face. There’s no way he’s going to renew my contract now. I’d better start packing my bags.”
“Don’t you think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself? And what about Avery?”
“What about her? Didn’t you hear the part about our relationship being fake?”
Tag holds up a finger and takes a deep breath. Glad to see he’s gotten a hold of himself. “I’ll take this one. You’re an idiot.”
“You said that already. Let’s move on.”
“You’re an idiot because you don’t see the parallel in this situation.” He pauses, looking for some sort of recognition, and when I give him none, he continues. “Don’t you remember going to Rhett’s penthouse, and when we confronted him, he told us their whole marriage was fake? Do you not see the similarities?”
With a shake of my head, I reply, “I admit there are some similarities, but Avery and I are not Rhett and Lucy. We didn’t accidentally marry each other in Vegas. We didn’t have secret feelings before this whole charade started like I bet they did, and we sure as shit didn’t fall in love during the short time we were together.”
“You sure about that?”
“Positive.”
“Looked like you were pretty into each other the night you baked her that awful cake.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat, the words turning to ash in my mouth. “We’re good actors.”
This time it’s Lincoln’s turn, and he puts his hand on my shoulder and meets my eyes. “No one’s that good. I don’t know what kind of baggage you have from your past, but don’t let it keep you from your future.”
And just like that, the two of them are gone, leaving me with my spiraling thoughts and a stretching goalie.
Fucking baggage.
He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Neither of them do. We are nothing like all those fake relationship stories Avery loves so much; nothing like Rhett and Lucy and their rock solid marriage. There’s nothing to salvage. We had a good time. That’s it.
Except things felt different with her. You were different.
I’m not in love with Avery, and she’s not in love with me.
End of story.
I rub a hand over my chest, right where my heart should be.
So why does that feel like the biggest lie I’ve ever told?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“Happy Birthday.” Lucy greets me with a warm smile and a chocolate cake as soon as I open the door to my apartment.
I want to shut it right in her happy face.
