Chapter 28
THE EXES IN THE BUILDING
REMY
Technically I don’t have to be here for the game, but when Mabel texts me that she’s got her Knight jersey on and is bringing the “family”—Clementine, Skylar, and Trevyn—that’s reason enough to stick around.
I’ve finished the VIP tour and some prep for the week, so I put my work aside now that it’s time for warmups.
Speaking of, I’m still warm from the sixth rule of napping. I haven’t stopped thinking about what happened under the sage green blanket.
As I head down the corridor toward the rink, I replay those moments again. Who even was that woman grabbing his hand and shoving it between my thighs?
Let me hear you.
Other things repeat too.
I’m this close.
All those ragged words of his echo in my mind, and I swear I can feel his beard whisking against my shoulder, his firm lips pressing open-mouthed caresses to my neck, his magic fingers finding that spot inside me.
I make a tiny noise in the back of my throat that I should not make in public.
A quick glance around confirms I’m alone.
But still. I need to get my thoughts together.
I clench my thighs as I walk—which, for the record, is kind of hard to do.
I try though, like I can squeeze out the desire. News flash—I can’t.
Best to avoid all the player haunts then, so I dart around a corner, ducking into another hallway that doesn’t pass the workout room, the locker room, or the tunnel.
I circle all the way around the arena, avoiding any possibility of bumping into a growly hockey star who made me come hard and also admitted he wouldn’t date his college crush today.
I stop for a second by the escalators, letting that confession hit me again. And it hits me even harder than his moans, than his dirty commands. Lake Axelrod doesn’t want to hurt the people he cares about.
Like me?
Yeah, I think he meant me.
My head spins from all this new information.
I’ve got to get a handle on my thoughts, so I try to sort them into neat boxes as I resume my pace up to the ticketing level.
I don’t know if there will be an extra seat near my friends right now.
But as I weave past the early crowds on the counter, a text lands from Clementine that she’s running late.
I should be able to steal her seat for a bit. This’ll be good. Time with my friends will reset me. Settle my overactive mind. I dart past a gourmet sandwich stand, then a thirty-flavors-of-pretzels vendor, before saying hi to the ushers at the top of the bowl.
As I head down toward the ice, I’m strangely glad Clem isn’t here yet. I’m not sure how to face her after what happened earlier today with her brother. From the truths we shared with words and hearts at the table, to the ones we shared with lips and hands in his bedroom.
I don’t know how to organize any of this.
How to sort it.
Understand it.
Lake’s both my fake wedding date and my partner in trying to complete a bride’s unfinished bucket list. He’s also the guy who wants to show me how a good boyfriend treats a woman, with honesty, with passion.
Passion like Lake’s grunts. Like the sounds he made when he lost control once I came—once he tasted me.
Heat climbs up my neck from the memory of his fingers in me, then in his mouth, right as I reach my friends.
Trevyn, Mabel, and Skylar are huddled together in a row, talking and laughing, Skylar’s freckles dancing across her pale complexion, Mabel’s brown eyes sparkling with laughter, Trevyn’s witty smile coasting across his warm brown skin.
When he spots me standing in the aisle, he snaps his gaze my way, and arches a knowing brow.
“Why do you look like you just got some?”
Are you kidding me? It can’t be that obvious, can it?
I sink down next to him, acting all cool. “What are you talking about?”
He pats my hand placatingly, then swings his gaze to our friends. “Have you ever seen our girl’s cheeks so flush before?”
Mabel shoots me an assessing look. “Not since she started vacationing.”
Shoot. I am obvious.
“Oh, is that a euphemism for a little hockey action?” Trevyn asks.
Skylar hums appreciatively, then gives me an I know what you did look. “I told you hockey butts were the best. Did you find out for yourself about the perfect squish?”
This is bad. This is so bad. I’m so transparent they can already tell my fake date is real banging me.
“Yes,” I whisper, motioning for them to lower their voices. “But don’t talk so loud about it.”
“Why?” Trevyn asks innocently, but speaks in a whisper. “Everyone thinks it’s real with you two. And if it were real you’d be climbing his hockey body like you’re evidently doing, you minx, you. Ergo, it shouldn’t be a secret you’re getting the D.”
“And you deserve the D,” Skylar adds, “especially after that cad of an ex of yours, who I just walked past at his beer stand and hissed at. Which, for the record, represents serious growth. I had previously considered hiding a carton of rotten eggs under the beer taps.”
“Major growth,” I say, approvingly.
Skylar preens. “Thank you. I think so too. But back to you and your D face,” she says with a naughty glint in her eyes.
“Yeah, I don’t recall you ever showing up for a game looking like this,” Mabel adds as she waves her hand toward my face, since I must be wearing my thoughts on it. “You must be getting it good.”
It’s a compliment. Really it is. And the zing in my body confirms it. But I also feel so flustered, and I’m not sure why.
Before I can say another word, the lights dim and the ominous voice of the announcer booms over the sound system, taking everyone’s focus off me and onto the ice as purple strobe lights flash on the slick surface.
The deep baritone tells the tale of a fearsome fox who defended his den, like the Golden State Foxes will defend the net. When the light show finishes, the spotlight swings to the tunnel. “And now…your Golden State Foxes.”
Mabel hoots and hollers when Corbin hits the ice. Once it’s Lake’s turn to fly out of the tunnel, I cheer, but my friends nudge me like they expect me to behave like Mabel. To be all lovey and exuberant.
But is that my place as a fake girlfriend? My stomach dips and rolls, and that’s the answer to why I’m out of sorts. Because I don’t really know what my role is—how far to go, how deep to fake, who to fool.
I’d thought I was controlling the narrative, but I don’t know what string to pull or button to push.
By the time Clementine texts that she’s finally here at last, I’m grateful to slip away. I definitely can’t face her right now since not only did I blow her brother today (he’s complicated, she warned me), I also bought a gift for her dad last night—since her dad is Lake’s dad of course.
I’m buying gifts for my friend’s dad. I’m hooking up with her brother. Who’s also my fake boyfriend.
My stomach dips. Every molecule in me feels stretched too tight, like I don’t fit in my body anymore.
I need some time alone.
I trot up the steps, then do something I haven’t done before—avoid a friend. I head the other way to avoid running into her. But that other way means I’m walking right past Jameson’s beer stand.
What a stupid move. But I keep my focus forward, blinders on.
“Remy!” he calls out, and I try to avoid him, giving him a quick wave and walking on. But he rushes around the counter, leaving it to one of his servers, and catches up with me in the concourse.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“I was thinking it’d be nice to get coffee and chat.”
He’s really milking this friendship BS. “Why would that be nice?”
Oh wow. Did I say that?
“Because I bet you’ve got a lot on your plate with the wedding,” he says, totally missing the bite in my tone. “And I’m your friendly expert when it comes to libations. I can recommend some beers for the reception.”
He’s so relentless in his fake friendship project. I’d really like to tell him to stop using me to get to my sister. But if I say what’s on my mind, I might rock the boat. Caroline wants everything to go smoothly for the wedding. Everything includes me, so I bottle my snappy retorts up.
I flash him a fake friendly smile. “I can’t do coffee, but I will totally think about your offer,” I say with a wave, then waggle my phone, the universal sign for I need to take a call.
I hustle off, but once I round the corner and dart into the personnel hallway, my heart is beating too erratically, my mind racing to too many places. I stop, set a hand on my chest, and try to calm down.
Since now I have another thing to worry about, and it’s not how far to go with this fake dating.
It’s what happens when I run into Lake like this when our fake romance is over? How the hell am I going to handle having two ex-boyfriends in the same building?
I close my eyes and sink to the floor.