Page 24 of Fake Out Hearts

“Anything for my wife,” he says as the roar of the plane’s engines floods the cabin.

We’re soaring above the red-orange meteorite that is the Vegas desert just a few minutes later, and as the city’s casinos and sprawling highways grow smaller and smaller in the window, I decide to leave all my worries there too.

Yes, what Theo and I just did is crazy, but it’s going to work.

It has to, because my dreams depend on it, and because I’m finally coming around to believing that after all the shit I’ve been through in my life, I deserve it.

The flight attendant brings us a second round of champagne, and Theo asks her if he can borrow a phone charger before we clink our glasses together again. The bubbling liquid strangely calms my stomach, and I watch with a smile as Theo plugs his phone into the jack built into his seat and starts tapping away on the screen, making notes of all the things he needs to do and people he needs to call when he has signal again. I don’t have to say a single thing because he has it all covered. Movers. My flight to Denver. Grocery delivery for whatever I want or need. Everything’s there.

We touch down back at LAX about an hour later, and as soon as the wheels touch the tarmac, Theo flips his phone out of airplane mode and starts placing calls. After all the time I’ve spent being Shawn’s glorified personal assistant, managing his calendar and filming schedule for him, being taken care of like this really does make me feel like a princess.

After grabbing Theo’s bags, we spill out in the warm LA afternoon and into an Uber that’s already waiting to take us back to my place. Theo stays on the phone for most of the journey, but I don’t mind. For once, I’m happy to let someone else take the wheel.

But as soon as we pull up to the curb outside my place, Theo pockets his phone and returns his attention to me. “Are you okay? Sorry I’ve been so distracted.”

“I’m fine, and I understand. Thank you for taking care of all that stuff. I don’t think I could’ve handled it.”

He smiles at me. “Yes, you could’ve. But I wanted to do it for you. Do you mind waiting here for me for a second so I can walk her inside?” he asks the driver, and when they agree, Theo climbs out of the car with me. He walks me to my door, and we stand in front of it uncomfortably, neither of us sure what to say or do.

“I guess I should give this back to you now. You’ll probably be needing it before I will,” I say after a beat, then reach up to lift his jersey over my head.

But before I can complete the motion, he reaches out to stop me.

“No. Keep it.” He leans forward a bit like he’s going to kiss me, then freezes for a second before planting an innocent peck on my cheek. “I’ll see you soon, wife,” he says in a low voice, then reaches for my ring hand to give it a squeeze.

“Yeah, see you soon,” I breathe. He steps back, and I stand in the doorway watching him walk back to the car. “Wait, Theo!” I call after him, and he spins around like he’s back on the ice. “Shouldn’t we, uh, trade phone numbers or something?”

He grins and pulls out his phone. “Oh, damn. Can’t believe I almost forgot about that. What’s your number?”

I recite it to him, and his thumbs fly across the screen as he types it in.

“Got it.” He nods. “Oh, hold still for a second.”

“Why?”

“I need a picture to go with it.”

“Oh. Okay.” I laugh, then lean against the door frame with a smile.

His phone makes a clicking sound as he snaps the photo, and he checks the screen, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“Perfect.” He looks up at me, a momentary flash of heat passing through his expression. “And I still think you look better wearing my jersey, princess.”

My stomach swoops a little, and I run my hands over the fabric of the jersey, hoping he doesn’t notice the goosebumps scattering over my arms. “Thanks. We’ll talk soon?”

“Can’t wait.”

He raps his knuckles against the door frame, then turns and strides back to the Uber, and I don’t tear my gaze away fromthe car until it rounds the corner and disappears. Even after he’s gone, I stay where I am, frozen in my doorframe and blinking absently as I try to process everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours.

I can’t believe I just got married.

Or that Theo Camden, the bad boy of the NHL, is now my husband.

Chapter 9

Theo

I can’t stop smiling. In the Uber all the way back to the airport and onto the private plane with the rest of the Aces, a smile never leaves my face. The guys are all talking, cracking jokes, being their usual rowdy selves, but all I can think about is what I just did. Whatwejust did.

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