Page 135 of The Blame Game

Audra nodded.

“I suppose,” he said dubiously.

“Look, the post I put up on social media is already gaining traction. And you sharing it helped too.”

“I know.” He rubbed his face. “And you did a great job with it. The whole ‘oh, I was just filling in as a date for my roommate at the gala since he was under the weather that night’ angle was good.”

“Kate is very good at what she does,” Audra said drily.

Shea managed a faint smile. “So I gather.”

“And I think a lot of people will be willing to accept that angle.”

“Sure.” Shea sighed. “If they’re not already convinced about the escort thing.”

“Well, that’s why you and Dom are going to work the happy couple angle.”

“And you don’t think it looks suspicious that I’m moving in with him immediately?”

“I think that people will see what they want to see and if you spin it so it seems like it’s something you’ve been wanting to do for a long time but—”

“That’s just it,” he said, his tone raw. “I have wanted this. I’ve wanted this for years. But I want it to be real, Audra. I don’t know how I’m going to live with him and pretend that we’re in love. Because I am in love with him and when this PR shit dies down it’s going to kill me to walk away from him.”

He sat heavily on the mattress, his legs no longer holding him up.

Audra sat next to him. “Hey, I get that. But I think I was wrong.”

“About what?”

“About Dom.”

Shea glanced up, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“That man made a huge statement today. He publicly outed himself to protect you. You expect me to believe that’s not love?”

Shea hesitated, torn. “I mean, maybe? He has a lot to lose too. And so does the Fisher Cats organization. They’re not exactly going to sit idly by while people speculate about one of their players paying an escort for sex.”

“I’m not disputing that. But what I saw from him earlier, he wasn’t thinking about himself or the organization. He was thinking about you.”

A couple hours later, as Shea followed Dom into his apartment for the second time that day, he was hit with a sudden feeling of déjà vu.

Only this time, it wasn’t for a PR meeting. He was moving in.

It wasn’t like Shea needed any furniture or kitchen utensils, so it hadn’t taken him long to pack his clothing and a few bags and boxes of personal belongings and mementos, along with his hockey gear.

He’d unloaded in front of the building, where Dom had met him with a cart and a building employee who was more than happy to help. They’d already gotten into a minor argument about Dom not lifting heavy boxes.

Shea watched the man move his belongings into Dom’s apartment, barely believing this was happening.

When the guy was gone, and Dom tipped him—because he got there before Shea could do it—they stared at each other.

Shea had no idea what to do from here. He’d never lived with a partner before. And well, this wasn’t exactly a normal situation anyway.

“I made room for you in the closet,” Dom said.

For a wild moment, Shea had the weirdest thought that he was talking about the metaphorical one, and then it clicked that he meant the literal one in the bedroom.

“Uh, thanks. Which room?”

---