Chapter 28
POPPY
If I thought there were a lot of eyes on me at our wedding, I had another thing coming.
Today is Jett’s competition day, and now everyone knows that I’ll be standing at the end of his run as his wife, not his girlfriend, or just a random fling he decided to keep around.
Dan keeps himself close to me as we weave our way through the crowd, and a security guard opens the metal fence and lets us squeeze through the gap.
The last event had drawn a crowd… but this one?
The sea of people stretches on until I can no longer see where they end and the ski hill begins.
I have to wonder if it has anything to do with the news story announcing Jett Landry’s nuptials, and the outpouring of commentary on the internet that followed.
Other friends and family are gathering around the end of the run, eagerly awaiting their skier to come celebrate their finish with them.
I adjust my earmuffs and bounce on the balls of my feet to keep warm while we wait. Brooke has me in another one-piece, Nuclear snow suit, white winter boots, and white fluffy earmuffs. I’ve been getting used to looking the part, like a professional skier’s wife.
How I even ended up in this situation is beyond me. Lesson learned to be careful what you wish for, because while I was busy trying to manifest a husband, the universe was preparing to hand me… this.
I glance around at the rest of the crowd behind the fence, the women who have probably been waiting here all day to make sure they have a front row seat to Jett’s big finish today.
Despite the chill in the air on the otherwise crystal clear, sunny day, they’re all in string bikini tops. That same girl is back, still with Jett’s name written across her breasts. They’re all looking me up and down, and the back of my neck starts to prickle, my palms sweating in my mittens.
Jett could have his pick of whoever he wanted here. Any one of these women would jump at the chance to be with him for even one night. He could be living it up, going home with one of them to celebrate his run… and instead he’s saddled to me.
A virgin who has no business pretending that I’m anywhere near his league.
But we have a plan, and as much as I can’t help but worry that this little side quest is taking away from both of our relationship goals, we both have a lot to gain from this marriage.
Today will be easy. We’ve done it once before, we can do it again.
Jett just needs to finish the run, meet me at the bottom, and plant one right on my lips for the world to see. Butterflies flutter around in my belly.
I’ve only ever kissed one man, so I don’t have anything to compare this to, but my god, Jett is a good kisser. It might take me longer to find my real husband, but I have to admit, there are some perks to being married to Jett.
Someone approaches me from behind and taps me on the shoulder. When I turn, there’s a giant camera lens and a microphone in my face, a reporter wearing a snug fitting puffer jacket and a pink toque with a pompom behind it.
“Poppy, can we get a word?” She asks, wide blue eyes staring at me intently.
I glance around to try and find Brooke or Dan, but they’re standing to the side, facing away from me and deep in conversation.
“Sure.” I can manage on my own in a quick interview without Brooke handing me a script. Though, she never prepared me that this would even be a possibility.
“You must be excited to watch Jett compete today, since you’re here not as his girlfriend anymore but as his wife.”
It’s not a question, but she waits for my answer anyways.
“It’s pretty surreal,” I admit. Keep the answers short, Pops. Short and sweet. You got this, I think to myself, even though my pulse is roaring in my ears.
“It all happened so fast, I can imagine it’s been hard to wrap your head around.”
Another non-question question.
I try to think of how Jett would respond, because I’ve seen him do it so many times in press conferences. “Is there a question in there somewhere?” He’d ask, brazen and rhetorical. But I’m not as ballsy.
“When Jett wants to make something happen, he’s a determined man.” I go with instead.
“Everyone wants to know what it’s like to be married to the world’s most notorious playboy. He was famous for saying he would never commit. Has he fully changed his womanizing ways?”
Now, we’re edging into dangerous territory, and I nervously glance around for Brooke, Dan, anyone.
Brooke clearly hasn’t noticed that I’m over here being bombarded by this reporter, or else she’d be over here breaking it up in a second. I don’t want to take too long to come up with an answer, or the media will have a hay day.
I can see the headlines now: MRS. JETT LANDRY PLAYED FOR A FOOL.
What’s the word for a female cuck?
“I should hope so, since we’re married. But yeah, Jett has settled down in a lot of ways. He’s not who most people think he is.”
Okay, this is good. We’re trying to change Jett’s reputation, and this is a good direction.
“Is Jett Landry a secret romantic?” The reporter suddenly looks a lot more intrigued. Any never-been-heard-before news is good news, I guess.
“No… I mean. Kind of? Not in a grand, sweeping gestures kind of way. He’s more of a small acts of service kind of guy. Bringing me my favourite tea, being protective over me, those kinds of things,” I say.
The reporter looks as though she just remembered something, and her pin straight blonde hair falls over her shoulder as she looks down at her notebook and flips a few pages over.
“Speaking of being protective, he punched a waiter in the face for you recently, didn’t he? Maybe you could explain what happened?”
Oh god. Here we go.
“Jett has always valued his family, and now that includes me. He needed to step up and protect me, so he did,” I explain the situation, careful to use keywords I think Brooke might like.
“Values family” seems like a good direction to go, considering what Nuclear stands for. But something I’ve said has put a surprised look on the reporter’s face, and she clicks her tongue before answering me.
“He’s a changed man. That kind of behaviour could get him disqualified from the World Cup. That waiter must have said something that really riled him up,” she points out, and the ground sways beneath my feet.
Jett and I talked about the incident later that night.
I knew that his acting out in public might come with some backlash, that it wouldn’t help his case in keeping his sponsorship with Nuclear…
but I never stopped to think about the fact that a potential assault charge on top of everything could get him disqualified before he even makes it to the final.
The reporter keeps talking but I can’t hear her over the ringing in my ears.
“Oh my god,” Brooke sidles up to me and shoos away the reporter. “Are you okay, Poppy? What did she say? More importantly, what did you say? Nothing that could spread like wildfire, I hope. I am so fucking tired of putting out fires.”
“No, no.” I wave the air in front of me in a there’s nothing to worry about gesture. “Nothing like that. I’m fine.”
“Good.” She tugs my arm to lead me back to where she and Dan were standing earlier. “Because Jett’s up next.”
The last skier before him has just finished their run, and the announcer shouts the score over the loudspeaker.
I don’t know a lot about skiing, but from what I’ve learned being around Jett the last couple weeks, that’s a near perfect score. Jett will have to beat it, or else he could get out ranked, and his road to the World Cup Final would end here.
This event, the World Cup, it means everything to Jett. This is everything he’s been working toward his entire career. He’s already had the rug pulled out from under him once when he injured himself last year.
I clasp my hands together under my chin as I squint to look up the mountain. He’s too far away to see, but I hear the buzzer sound, and my gaze snaps to the big screens set up around the crowd.
Jett is flying, knees bent, elbows tucked in at his sides for maximum speed.
He hits the incline, then straightens his core as his skis fly off the end of the jump and he sails through the air.
Time seems to slow down while he’s airborne, as if he’s floating.
Come on, Jett. It’s become a mantra in my mind now. Clean landing.
He twists like a corkscrew through the air. The crowd erupts in a cheer as he tucks his legs in so he can grab the back of his skis while he flips and turns. Now, he’s on the downward trajectory, and his skis straighten out as he prepares for impact.
They make a satisfying soft thud in the snow. I watch him as he lands, and while the crowd hollers, chanting his name, I get a sinking feeling in my stomach that something is off. To anyone unfamiliar with how Jett skis, his landing would have looked half decent. Good, even.
But I’ve watched Jett ski many times on television, and something isn’t right. The way his leg flexed and tensed, it wasn’t a smooth landing, not graceful, and I think it will affect his points.
“Yeah, that’ll cost him,” Dan mutters behind me, and my stomach sinks.
Not because I’m worried he won’t qualify if he takes a hit to his points today. But I feel sick that he might have re-injured himself.
He slides to the bottom of the hill, and as planned, beelines right for me.
Jett quickly pops his skis off, picks them up and hands them off to his coach.
As soon as his hands are free, he scoops me up, wrapping his arms around my waist. He goes to lift me off the ground, but he buckles underneath me.
I place my hands on either side of his face, his hair wet with sweat and sticking to his skin.
“Are you okay?”
“Now that I’m with you, yes.” His lips slide into his cocky smirk before he places them on my mouth and captures me in a kiss.
Although I’m seeing stars again, my world spinning and stalling at the feeling of his lips, I can’t get my mind to stop fixating on making sure he isn’t hurt.
He pulls back from me, and I look into his deep brown eyes. Something in them seems almost pained, like he’s holding it all in, putting on his famous unbothered, confident mask.
“You’re hurt,” I whisper between us.
He nods slightly, imperceptible to everyone but me.
“Let’s get you out of here.” I wave to Dan to come over.
He realizes what’s going on when he gets close, pulling Jett’s arm up and over his shoulders so he can help him off to the side. Mark is already there, waiting for him to assess the damage. He bends down and lifts Jett’s ski pants, though there’s no sign of an injury—yet.
“Call for the car,” he instructs Brooke, already punching something into her phone.
Murmurs ripple through the crowd wondering what’s going on.
The announcer speculates over the speaker whether this will knock Jett out of the running, and if not, if he’ll even be able to perform at the next cup stop.
Brooke, Mark, and I push through the crowd until we get to the parking lot and find the car waiting for us.
Dan puts Jett inside, and then I climb in behind him.
“Make sure he ices it tonight,” Mark tells me. “I’ll come and see him tomorrow.”
The car door shuts and pulls away, stopping and starting through the parking lot as we wait for people to cross, making their way to the event. Tonight was supposed to be our first after party appearance as a couple, for Jett to show that he’s cleaned himself up.
“My driver can take you back to Heartwood once he drops me off,” Jett says, breaking the silence between us. I turn and look at him, head tilted in question.
“Now why would I want to do that?” I ask.
Jett looks out the window, avoiding eye contact with me.
“It’s not whether you want to or not, Poppy. It’s what’s best right now.” His tone gives him away, and when the end of his sentence cracks a little, so does my heart.
This is hard on him, letting people see him in a vulnerable state. Letting his guard down enough to let someone else care about him.
“I’m your wife. So, I’m going to look after you. Just like you did for me the other night,” I say plainly.
Jett turns and looks at me now, a crease forming between his brows.
“That’s what married couples do, Jett. So, deal with it.”
Something crosses his expression that I can’t quite place. What looks like a flash of fear in his eyes quickly changes to acceptance, maybe even relief. The corner of his mouth lifts up at that, and something behind my sternum ignites.
“You’re cute when you’re bossy.”