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Jesus. I feel like a high school girl looking for gossip. But fucking A. It's about time.
"She feels bad," Camila says as Kris disappears from sight. "She thinks you wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for her."
"It's not her fault."
"She thinks it is."
"I'll handle it," I promise, which makes Camila smile.
"I know you will. Go play hockey, handsome. And don't worry about this. Whatever happens, we'll handle it, okay?"
"Oh, fuck me," I growl, glancing behind her to see Jamie Knight headed our way. She's the nosiest reporter I've ever met in my entire life. I'm not even sure reporter is the correct term for her. She chases gossip in the sports world. Apparently, people love that shit because her segment on ESPN is popular.
"What?" Camila asks, spinning around to see what I'm looking at. As soon as she spots Jamie headed our way, she huffs out a breath. "I'll handle her."
"No, let her come,querida," I say.
Camila shoots me a look that asks if I'm crazy. I might be but fuck it. I'd rather talk to her now than after the game when Rhonda's interview is out in the world. At least this way, I can avoid commenting on it until I get a chance to see it for myself.
"Gray!" Jamie waves a hand in the air when a seat attendant tries to stop her.
I lift my hand and motion for her to come over. The attendant lets her squeeze past him into the first row. She steps up beside Camila, smiling at us. Despite the fact that she's relentless, she's not a bad person. I actually think she's pretty decent. I just think her job is lame as hell.
"If you're here to ask him about Rhonda Sarris, he has no comment," Camila says, stepping in front of me like she plans to physically keep Jamie from asking her questions. I'm twice her size and could probably bench press her in my sleep, but my angel is protective. I love it.
"Good to know," Jamie says. "But that's old news. I'm actually here to ask about the two of you."
"Excuse me?" Camila asks, caught off guard.
"Rumor has it you were seen arriving at his house yesterday morning. You didn't leave again until today," Jamie says, looking at Camila. "Any truth to the rumors that you're more than just his new publicist?"
"Dammit," I growl when Camila turns to me with wide eyes. How the hell does Jamie find shit out so fast? And who the fuck has been keeping tabs on my house? "You don't have to answer that,querida. You don't have to answer any of her questions."
Camila looks at me and then back to Jamie. There's something in her eyes, but I can't get a read on it. I'm not sure what I'm expecting, but it isn't what comes out of her mouth.
"If you're asking if we're hooking up or having some secret affair, the answer is no," she says. "If you're asking if I'm in love with him, the answer is yes."
"Oh. Wow. Okay. That was not what I was expecting," Jamie mutters, her surprise obvious. "So I guess you were at his house all night."
"What did you expect?" I ask, not sure if I'm more curious or annoyed.
"A denial," she says. "Neither of you are exactly known for dating."
I grunt instead of responding.
She jots something in her little notebook. "I don't even have to ask him how feels about you. It's written all over his face."
"We're getting married," I blurt.
Camila gasps, turning to glare at me. "You can't just tell the whole world we're getting married, Gray! You didn't even ask me."
Jamie laughs, glancing between us like she's at a ping-pong match. "Did you plan to say no?"
"No," Camila says. "Of course not."
"Then I'm saving us an unnecessary step," I mutter. "You're marrying me, Camila. Don't give a fuck who knows it."
Camila shakes her head at me, but I see the smile blooming on her lips. She wants it as badly as I do. Who cares if the whole world finds out now or in a few months when she's round with my baby and wearing my ring? But if she wants me to ask her, I will.
