Chapter 20
kennedy
Sitting at what I am forever referring to as the Table of Disappointment, I mindlessly study my flight plans for tonight.
Work has always been an escape, and fuck do I need an escape right now.
My stomach groans, reminding me of the other thing I need.
Food. A knock on the door has me grinning ear to ear.
“Finally,” I whisper, as I push back my chair from the table.
My head tilts as a petite woman in a pink blazer, with the most perfect Barbie ponytail I’ve ever seen, stands before me.
I shift my eyes down the hall, trying to figure out if my food is on the way or if this is some sort of bizarre joke.
My pulse quickens. Please, God, tell me this is not a singing telegram.
That seems like a stunt my immature boyfriend would pull.
“You must be Kennedy. I’m Hannah Lavoise, PR rep for the Boucher family,” she introduces herself.
My head pulls back. “Oh. Hi! Yes, I’m Kennedy.” I extend my hand to shake hers. “Please, come in. I’m…sorry, I’m confused. Jordan said you were going to call me…”
She smiles widely, her blue eyes bearing a resemblance to Jordan’s.
“He did. But once he left for morning skate, he called and asked if I wanted to come and meet you in person. He didn’t want you to have to deal with this alone.
I don’t get very many chances to see him play in person, so it was a good excuse to hop on the family plane for the day. ”
My jaw clenches at the unpleasant reminder of rich assholes on jets. But I let it go, realizing Hannah doesn’t fit that mold. And now something tugs in my chest, a spark that’s too sharp—he’s making sure I’m okay.
“It’s nice to meet you, Hannah. You really didn’t need to come all this way.”
She waves me off. “It’s really nothing. Someone has to check up on my cousin once in a while. Can we sit down?” She gestures to the table. The goddamn Table of Disappointment.
I purse my lips, preparing for another fun conversation. “Sure, after you.”
At first glance, Hannah looks sugary sweet, like a poof of cotton candy, but the confidence in her speech demands respect—this woman is on top of her shit.
She’s in full-on crisis management mode, giving me a play-by-play of what to say to the media.
Where to go. What to avoid. I try, and fail, to stifle the yawn that escapes.
I do appreciate her professionalism, but I’m also exhausted and would rather ditch the niceties and cut to the chase.
“Hannah, I appreciate everything you’re saying, and I know your job is to treat this as a business transaction between your cousin and me. But…can I ask you a favor?”
“Of course,” she says in her extremely professional tone, but the slight tilt of her head gives her curiosity away.
“Would you shoot straight with me? I know you’re trained to talk corporate and say the right things, but I’m not big on bullshit. Jordan says we can trust you, and he seems to have a lot to lose if this gets out, so tell it to me like it is. What am I going to be dealing with here?”
She huffs a laugh, her eyes narrowing as she leans forward in her chair. “JJ said you were no nonsense, and he wasn’t kidding. I’m the same actually. How about we start over?”
“I’d like that.” I smile, my cheeks appreciating the slight reprieve from the perma-scowl I’ve had on my face most of the day.
“Perfect. So, the Boucher famil—crap. Sorry. My family. We’re very…guarded. Every story about us in the news is because we allow it to be there. It’s not that we’re hiding anything; we just prefer to keep our lives as private as possible.”
I can’t hold back the snort that escapes. “Jordan Boucher likes to keep his life private? He’s got a new story about him on a gossip site every day.”
She smiles through her teeth, something hidden behind her eyes.
I blink. She seems intelligent, but there’s no way she’s a fan of her cousin’s rich playboy image and having to cover up what can only be a multitude of indiscretions, right?
She must be good at her job, though, because outside of what I’ve seen about his latest flings, there isn’t much else about him out there except for his hockey stardom.
Clearly, she’s a PR genius.
She takes in a deep breath, fiddling with the hot pink pen resting on top of her pink notepad. “Believe it or not, JJ prefers to keep a lot of his life private. His public persona is…well, that’s a little complicated.”
My jaw clenches. Why does everyone keep telling me it’s complicated without elaborating? And JJ?
“I’m sorry, JJ?”
Her eyes go wide. “Oh my gosh, sorry about that. Bougie? Jordan? He goes by a thousand names. I’m not sure what you call him.”
Is this what they mean by complicated? His fifty-thousand names?
“Jordan is all I’ve ever called him. You call him JJ?”
“All the family does. His middle name is Joseph, and it just kind of stuck when he was a kid.” A small smile softens her face.
“JJ and I have always been super close. He has three older sisters, and I have two older brothers, so we were always left to our own devices while they were all out doing older-kid stuff. Plus, our parents were the closest of all the Boucher siblings. We actually lived on neighboring lots in Montreal. If we weren’t all at one house for dinner, we were at the other for game night and movies.
I honestly can’t imagine growing up any other way than having that big house full of people, a million kids running around, and all the memories we made.
Because of that, we have always been tighter with each other than the rest of our family.
He’s actually more like a brother than a cousin. ”
I rub my fingers across the seam of my sleeve as warmth spreads through my chest. I open my mouth to ask a question, but my brain can’t seem to send the words fast enough before she continues singing the praises of the immature fake boyfriend I’ve accidentally acquired.
The one that, apparently, has a warm, loving, super close family.
“Oh! You should see him with his nieces and nephews. Talk about uncle of the year—it’s like no one else exists when he comes home to visit.
Everyone loves Uncle JJ.” Her eyes go out of focus, a memory I won’t get to see taking hold.
“Family is everything to the Bouchers. He keeps trying to get me to move to Milwaukee now that I own my own PR firm, but that involves things like work visas, moving literally everything I own, and leaving all the delicious Canadian snacks behind. Who knows, though, maybe someday down the road I’ll find myself in the States again. ”
My body stills as my brain officially has a computer blue screen of death, trying to comprehend her words.
This is not what I was picturing when he said his PR agent would call me.
Especially now that she’s here. The way she’s talking about him is in no way, shape, or form the Jordan I’ve seen.
Or the Bougie. Or JJ. Or whatever the hell we’re calling him today.
I glance toward the door between our rooms. Are we talking about the same person?
She’s talking about him as if he’s being nominated for a top gentleman of the year award despite living the playboy life every night.
Grilled Cheesus, make this make sense.
“So, how about you, Kennedy? Are you close with your family?” she asks.
The corners of my lips turn up, thinking about them.
“Yeah. They live in South Carolina. We’re not as close as your family.
With my crazy travel schedule, I don’t get to see them as much as I’d like, but we still text and call as much as we can.
Our family group text gets a little unhinged at times. ”
Hannah’s laugh is boisterous and full of understanding. “Oh God. Our family group text would probably have you running for the hills! We love each other, but I swear our love language is giving each other shit every moment of every day. And you’ll never guess who the biggest shit-giver is.”
I grin, feeling relieved to finally hear a believable characteristic about him. “I would expect nothing less.”
“Family is everything to us, so I love to hear you get along well with yours. And while you’re in this relationship, you’re my family too. JJ is my client and my family, but he’s also one of my best friends. Anything I’d do for him, I’d do for you as well.”
My heart warms, the kindness easing the twisting in my gut.
Is this some sort of weird fever dream? I figured Jordan’s PR cousin would be a total hard-ass bitch who shamed me for even suggesting we fake date.
I swallow back the thought as I realize I’m doing to her exactly what people do to me as a female pilot.
Making me feel like I have to fit into a certain mold or act a certain way when in reality we’re just two women with cool-ass jobs.
“Thanks, Hannah. I appreciate that.” I’m shocked to realize I truly mean that. “So, tell me what to expect with all the attention that comes with being Jordan Boucher’s latest fling.”
A wince crosses her face, her nose crinkling as if she’s upset by the description of him. She said he’s her best friend. She knows how he acts. What the hell am I missing here?
She leans forward, placing her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her hands.
“I’ve done this with celebrity couples before.
Now that it’s out in the open, if they see you out a few times, they’ll usually back off.
In my experience, seeing you leave a restaurant together after a nice dinner will squash any rumors of you two doing this for publicity. ”
I snort. “That is exactly what we’re doing.”
“Precisely,” she laughs, “and they’ll get their precious photos, then move onto the next ‘it’ couple, assigning them their precious ship name.”
My jaw drops. A ‘ship’ name? Fuck. “Do we…do we have a ship name?”
She nods. “They’re calling you Jennedy.”
My head shakes like I’m watching the world’s slowest tennis match. How the hell am I part of a celebrity couple called Jennedy? I sit at home. I read my books. I work, go on a vacation or two. I’m not a celebrity couple with a ship name.
“I guess it could be worse,” I mumble.
She purses her lips, her brows narrowing slightly. “Kennedy…are you sure you’re okay with this? If not, I can talk to JJ, and we can come up with something—”
“It’s fine,” I spit, not wanting her pity. “Fake dating was my idea. I’m all in. It’s just…it’s hard to wrap my mind around all this.”
“I can imagine this is quite the upheaval in your life.”
“Just a bit,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm as another news alert pops up. “My poor phone hasn’t had a break all day.”
She smiles and sighs in understanding. “I promise it will calm down. Turn it on do not disturb and make sure all your favorites are set to ring through. That will help until the media dies down.”
“Will do.” I pick at the edge of my nail with my thumb. “What exactly do I need to wear for this date?”
“Oh!” She bounces in her chair as her eyes light up like a Christmas tree. “I almost forgot!” She reaches into her houndstooth bag and passes across an envelope. “This is for you. It’s a black card, no limit, so get whatever you need!”
I straighten in my chair and raise a hand to stop her. “Hannah. I do well for myself. I don’t need a credit card. I am quite capable of buying my own clothes.”
“I know, I know. I appreciate that, really, but listen. JJ wants to make sure you have everything you need; that’s all. You don’t have to use it. But…” She grins mischievously. “If it were me? I would be running to the hotel spa and getting a massage and a stiff drink.”
The warmth and humor in her words loosen something tight inside me. I suppose I could capitalize on this. Just this once.
“You know what? That’s not a bad idea. I think we’ll get along just fine. And…hey. Thanks for just chatting with me like a real person and not just a client.”
“Anytime. Like I said, I’m here if you need me at all. If you need someone to talk to about all of this, or need a fit check, I’m happy to help.”
“Thanks.” I flash her a warm smile.
She checks her watch, a small frown marring her features. “I should get going. I’m going to meet with another client while I’m in town,” she says as she goes back into full business mode, packing up her bag. “Also, Kennedy? One more thing.”
“Sure, what’s that?” I ask, my voice wavering like a jet hitting a pocket of turbulence.
She twists her lips. “I know this is just an arrangement, but JJ’s been through the wringer. Even though this is fake, just keep in mind you both have real hearts.”
Her words sink in, curling low in my gut. This isn’t real. This is fake. How the hell would real hearts ever be involved in this? He may be attractive, but there’s a lot more that I’m looking for in a relationship. We are not compatible, and there’s no way in hell he’s in the same place I am.
I shrug, lifting my hands in surrender. “I’m just trying to come out of this with a positive public image. I’m not trying to hurt him. Promise.”
“Good,” she says with an uneasy smile as I walk her to the door. “It was really nice meeting you, Kennedy!”
“You too, Hannah.” I close the door after she flits down the hall like Glinda floating off in a pink bubble.
Grilled Cheesus, I am fucking confused.
I feel like I’m trying to put together a puzzle, but none of the pieces fit together.
Jordan has a completely different personality around me.
He seems nervous, scared almost. All anyone can talk about is the way he does nice things for people.
Add to that the way Hannah gushed about him and his family and how close they are, how she asked me to, in not so many words, not hurt him.
I stare out the window as my thoughts spin like an out-of-control ceiling fan about to crash onto a bed some poor sap is sleeping on beneath it.
Why the hell am I starting to think there may be something more to Jordan Boucher? And where the hell is my damn room service?!