Chapter 6 #3
As he returned to our table, trophy in hand, Cam stood up and clapped him on the shoulder with obvious pride.
Their friendship – built over years of shared ice time, victories, and defeats – was evident in the wordless exchange of nods and smiles.
It was one of the things I'd always admired about Cam: for all his playful bravado, he was genuinely happy for others' success.
"And the winner of this year's Ted Lindsay Award for an outstanding player selected by the NHL Players Association is... Cam Murphy of the St. Petersburg Slashers!"
The announcement sent a wave of applause through the ballroom.
Cam looked genuinely surprised, his eyes widening slightly before a grin spread across his face.
I felt a surge of pride that had nothing to do with our pretend relationship and everything to do with knowing how hard he'd worked for this recognition.
He turned to me, eyes bright with excitement. Without thinking, I leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
"Congratulations," I whispered, the words meant only for him. "You deserve this."
Something flickered in his eyes – surprise, gratitude, and something deeper I couldn't name. Then he was standing, making his way to the stage amid continued applause, every inch the confident star athlete in his perfect tuxedo and easy smile.
At the podium, he accepted the trophy with characteristic charm, thanking his coaches, teammates, and the Slashers organization. Then his expression became more serious.
"I also want to thank the people who believe in me – even when I don't always believe in myself," he said, his eyes finding mine in the audience. "Who see more in me than just what I can do on the ice. Who challenge me to be a better player, a better teammate... a better man."
My breath caught in my throat. This wasn't part of our script. This wasn't planned. Yet there was a raw sincerity in his words that couldn't be faked for cameras or sponsors.
"Success isn't just about talent," he continued. "It's about who's in your corner. Who you're fighting for. And I'm lucky enough to have found that..."
The ballroom erupted in applause as he finished, but I barely heard it over the blood rushing in my ears. When Cam returned to the table, trophy in hand, his eyes sought mine immediately, as if gauging my reaction.
"Was that okay?" he asked quietly as he sat beside me. "Not too much?"
I swallowed hard, fighting the unexpected emotion in my throat. "It was perfect," I managed, peeking over his shoulder stealthily as I hugged him. "Looks like the Redline executives are definitely impressed too. They're smiling."
"Good," he said, but something in his tone suggested that hadn't been his only concern.
The ceremony continued, and when Zayne's category was announced, I squeezed Cam's hand in nervous anticipation. My brother's face remained impassive as the nominees were listed, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his knee shook restlessly under the table.
"And the winner of the Norris Trophy is... Zayne Decker of the St. Pete Slashers!"
Pride surged through me as my brother made his way to the stage, accepting the trophy with his characteristic understated intensity.
His speech was brief, thanking the coaches, his teammates, and our father – "who taught me that defense isn't just about stopping goals; it's about protecting what matters. "
As Zayne's eyes scanned the audience, they paused briefly on Cam and me, narrowing slightly before moving on. The subtle challenge in that look was unmistakable – a warning that said clearer than words: Touch my sister, and there will be consequences.
When the ceremony concluded, we moved to the afterparty where a live band was already playing.
Cam leaned close, his breath warm against my ear. "Dance with me?"
Before I could respond, a familiar voice called my name, sending a jolt of panic through me.
"Lana! Darling!"
I turned to find my mother approaching, elegant as always in a pale gold gown, my father trailing in her wake. Her eyes were already fixed on my left hand, widening at the sight of the sapphire ring.
"Mom! Dad!" I managed, forcing brightness into my voice as I hugged my mother. "I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow."
"Change of plans," my father said, hugging me. His eyes moved from me to Cam with thoughtful assessment. "ESPN called, and we didn't want to miss Zayne's big night, so here we are. Cam, nice to see you. Congratulations. Great night for the Slashers."
"Thank you, sir." Cam replied. "It's good to see you both again."
My mother barely seemed to hear, her attention entirely captured by the ring on my finger. "Lana Elizabeth Decker," she breathed, taking my hand in hers to examine the sapphire more closely. "Is this what I think it is?"
I opened my mouth, prepared to launch into our carefully crafted non-explanation that would imply without confirming, but Cam stepped forward before I could speak.
"Mrs. Decker," he said, kissing her cheek in an old-world gesture that made my mother actually blush. "It's so lovely to see you again. You look radiant tonight."
My mother, typically composed and articulate, actually giggled.
"Please, call me Diana, Cam. You and Zayne aren't in college anymore.
And this – " she gestured to the ring, " – is breathtaking.
Almost as breathtaking as the fact that my daughter hasn't mentioned a single word about your relationship until those photos appeared last week. " She glared at me teasingly.
Cam's smile was apologetic but not overly so. "That's my fault, I'm afraid. Given my position on the team and Lana's role as the team's publicity director, we thought it best to keep things private until we were... certain."
The way he said "certain" – with just the right gentle emphasis – left no doubt as to what he meant. My mother's eyes softened, and even my father's stern expression relaxed slightly.
"And now you're certain?" my father asked, the question directed at me rather than Cam.
I felt three pairs of eyes on me, awaiting my response. Cam's hand found the small of my back, a warm, steadying presence.
"Yes," I said, surprised by the conviction in my voice. "We're certain."
My mother beamed, pulling me into a tight hug that smelled of her signature perfume and years of unconditional love. "Oh, darling. I'm so happy for you."
Over her shoulder, I caught Cam's eye. He was watching us with an expression I couldn't quite decode – something warm but wistful and complicated.
"Thank you," I murmured, guilt twisting in my stomach at the genuine joy in my mother's voice.
When she released me, my father stepped forward, offering his hand to Cam. "Congratulations on your award tonight, Cam. And on..." he gestured vaguely between us, "...this development."
"Thank you, sir," Cam replied, his handshake firm and respectful. "I know how important your family is to Lana. I hope you know I'm the guy lucky enough to be in her life right now, and I don't take that lightly."
My father studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded once, a gesture that conveyed both acknowledgment and warning. "See that you don't."
An awkward silence threatened to descend, but my mother, ever the social butterfly, clapped her hands together.
"Well! This calls for a proper celebration.
You must come with Lana to Siesta Key this weekend.
The whole family will be there for our annual end-of-summer gathering.
Zayne will be there of course. And Drake. "
Panic flared in my chest. A weekend with my entire family? Pretending to be engaged to Cam? It was one thing to maintain the facade for a night, quite another to sustain it for an entire weekend under the watchful eyes of the people who knew me best.
"Mom, I don't think – " I began.
"We'd love to," Cam interjected smoothly, his smile dazzling. "Wouldn't we, Lana?"
I could only stare at him, words failing me as I processed the enormity of what he'd just committed us to.
"Wonderful!" my mother exclaimed, clearly delighted. "We'll expect you Friday afternoon. The good bedroom is already made up. She leaned in close to Cam for a stage whisper, “We've been hoping Lana would finally bring someone special home."
“Mom!”
With promises to call with details and congratulations on the "engagement," my parents moved on to greet other acquaintances, leaving me standing in stunned silence beside Cam.
"The good bedroom?" he murmured, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Should I be honored?"
I found my voice at last, turning to face him fully, whispering, "Are you out of your mind? A weekend with my family playing happy couple? This was not part of the deal, Cam. We're having a serious discussion about this later. Stick to the plan. It's showtime."
His expression sobered, but there was still a warmth in his eyes that made my heart beat faster. "Would it really be so terrible? Think about it – if we can convince your family, we can convince anyone. Including those Redline executives over there who have been watching us all night."
I followed his subtle nod to where two sharp-suited men stood near the bar, their attention indeed fixed in our direction. Well, at least the scene with my parents was probably convincing from afar.
"Besides," Cam continued, his voice dropping to a more intimate register, "wouldn't it be nice to have a weekend away from the rink? Just us, the beach, maybe a sunset or two..."
The band began playing a slow ballad, and without waiting for my response, Cam took my hand in his. "Dance with me?"